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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/?
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Kowalski rallied his thoughts into a conclusion stating that the word voodoo was of French origin and thus a no-no to Skipper until France changed its tax laws. Skipper continued to use the term rather than the factual Santeria for the magicks of Frances Alberta. It was a mystery why, but there it was, the term cemented into narrative so voodoo was what Kowalski would use for clarification in relaying further intel to his commander. There: Conclusion Number One. He continued, quite on a roll this evening.
Conclusion Number Two was that little Private's little gut contained an oviduct where it didn't before - ovalduct Private would likely interpret the term, how cute - and thus the costiveness due to crowdedness. Would the oviduct continue to exist after the egg was laid? Would any future canoodling between commander and private engender further eggs despite their species of penguin producing only one per season? Was Chango's power enough to wreak permanent change? Unknown. Mason said that Phil signed that Chango was a he-man woman-lover so the danger existed. No more sex of a certain permutation for either of them without precautions? Kowalski swallowed hard because oh, oh my, he did not wish to tackle that debrief. He flogged his thoughts onward.
Conclusion Number Three was that his darling big sugar cube snookums accurately diagnosed pregnancy in Private and that his otterly perspicacious friend, Marlene, did so with Private and Alice as well. Both discerned the condition by the sense of smell, although they didn't realize what they were, er, smelling. He himself had noticed nothing strange. Was this another case of his genius brain overriding hearing his gut instinct? Kowalski thought not because some things defied explanation no matter how smart anyone was and if the agenda called for concentration on a matter pressed for time, that took priority.
Which brought him to Conclusion Four, speaking of pressed for time: the egg would prove an attraction any zoo would welcome, so McSlade would continue his friendly attentions to penguins and hype the egg rather than transfer it to an incubator that would remove the egg from Mama Nature's wise precedents. Kowalski swiped his brow. Whew. He looked around their island through the fence to a lady lifting her toddler up to see him more easily. He waved to the two of them. They waved back. There was no worry of leaving this comfortable home with its three squares daily and its marvelous lab.
The next step - well, that could wait for cerebration because Rico beckoned from the water and he could use a refreshing swim to clear his head.
IOIOIOIOIO
Private readied for rumbling Frances Alberta as the woman approached their patch of weeds. Punish her for making his dream of parenthood come true? No way! He wanted to punish her for all the trouble she had caused in Hoboken, though, because just losing her job wasn't enough. The punishment of slippysliding from a position of power over her employees, zoo animals, and the human public to a position of jollying nickels out of humans wasn't enough. She had forced him to fight himself as a bio-mechanical android double, and he didn't like his appearance in battle. No, not at all.
What a ninny he had looked to himself, slapping and wincing and windmilling his fists like a - like a - ninnyish girl or girlish ninny! And in front of other team members, too! At the time of general melee, nobody took notice of him in particular, thank everything that was penguin.
Skipper, now, Skipper had looked as he always did: resolute, courageous, effective. Once he rejoined the melee after completing the ruination of Frances Alberta, he had smashed foes right and left, including Bio-Mechanical Savio. Bio-Mechanical Savio faced down both his fleshy original and a boisterous penguin team only to be soundly trounced, although afterwards Skipper's purist nature concluded that defeating Bio-Mechanical Savio did not count towards defeating Savio himself. It was too bad that the Hoboken Truce denied Skipper's team and Savio an opportunity for a rematch, but life went that way sometimes. The team threw growls over their shoulders towards Savio as they departed Hoboken, which Savio rebutted by pointing his tail, thrusting upwards sharply, and hissing. Private hadn't understood his teammates' fury as Skipper resorted to half-Nelsoning Rico from going ballistic on the boa until Kowalski explained that Savio was flipping them the bird. Then Private burned with indignation but as was often the case with him, it was a day late and a dollar short.
Private slapped himself mentally as footsteps padded on the rubber mats and then he tensed. Frances Alberta set down a block of wood off the mats and topped it with a shallow bowl that she arranged with great care. After avoiding mud on her walk through her museum lot, she groveled in it now as she lay on her stomach.
They listened to her words with interest.
"Today is doubly your day, Chango, because it is the sixth and a Friday. Allow me to address Eleggua so we can start our journey."
In the growing darkness, her black hair blended into the mood of the night while her white lovelocks bobbled when she prostrated herself. She had her face towards the ground so Skipper and Private listened hard to discern a forceful "Eleggua ... " and softer words that escaped them. Skipper made as if to break cover and attack now.
"Hssss," pssshed Private. Well, yes, she was prostrate and a good target at their level; Skipper and he could deliver a proper smack down. The word mystical rattled inside his head loud enough to make delay worthwhile, so he yanked Skipper's head around and mouthed, "Later."
Skipper jerked his head out of the grip, trembling with pent up energy. "Why?" he whispered.
"She's up to somethin' and I need to hear wot it is. Please wait. I'll join you when you clobber her."
Private calculated the tip of the iceberg of control that his love exercised to pull himself back from the brink of fury. With a wordless snarl, Skipper rolled away from Private's side, the commander's every psht and hsss an eloquent commentary on restraint.
The next part proved interesting indeed as Frances Alberta rose to her knees and chanted, "Changó obá adé oko, obá ina, Alafin Oyó aché o" once before placing the unmistakable shape of a banana into the bowl with both hands. She bowed after placing it and then settled tailor fashion, hands resting on her thighs. She was dressed in a flowing poncho and leggings that oulined her figure as seen in the streetlights, quite a nice figure if Private had to compare it with Shawna's, although Shawna was a kind human and Frances Alberta was not. She had planned to sacrifice his love and himself, for Lunacorn's sake! She'd, she'd slit their throats if she had her way! A flood of temper surged through him, too, and he fully understood Skipper's wrath.
It was easy to pick out her next words. "Chango, I offer your favorite fruit and call you now." From under the flowing poncho she produced a maraca. Clattering it slowly and then faster, she rolled her head on her shoulders, calling Chango's name loudly until she ended with a shout. A final clack clack of the maraca and she settled back down once more. After some minutes spent searching the sky, she sighed and placed the maraca at her side before picking up another item. The next implement proved more deadly. It was a double headed axe the size of a campground hatchet and she held it in front of her with both hands.
Skipper tensed beside Private, whose eyes bugged at the potential for violence. Not now, he couldn't attack her now, what had he been thinking? Attack when the precious proof of their love needed nurturing inside him? He would have to break his word to Skipper and deny his own yen for revenge. Somehow he thought this was not the first accommodation he would make for his child.
"You do not see fit to sit on my head this time, Chango. I thank you for all you did in Howe Caverns and offer fruit. I wanted to offer penguin blood, but it was not to be. You alone know why. Hear me, Chango, and accept my sacrifice of fruit and the screaming pain that the little penguin will know. Hear me!"
P-Pain? There was pain in his future? Uh oh. Now he really wanted to hear more. He clamped his flipper firmly over Skipper's back. The planes of muscle that he knew intimately bunched with no respite as Skipper panted in desperation. "I promise you'll get revenge later, honey."
The wind rose despite Gil Force's prediction of "rain's over for awhile, folks!" as it seemed Frances Alberta responded to the weather. She rolled her neck, outstretched her hands, and continued speaking to her god. "Chango, yes! Chango, show everyone your power while you accept my sacrifice! The pain foretold is what pleases you most, correct?"
She tilted her head as if hearing Chango's reply and then a lightning flash lit one dark cloud that had come from nowhere. "It's the pain of birth! The price of life renewing itself! Let him know what females endure every moment of every day as long as this realm lasts!"
The muscles of his love relaxed even as the wind grew. Frances Alberta threw back her head to swallow down a spate of raindrops and then licked her lips. "Yes!" She made a whirling kiddie's toy top of her posture, shifting weight from hip to hip, stretching her arms, and bending forward and back. She laughed, not the titter of the genteel zookeeper she had been but the full throated laughter of a Santeria devotee in sync with the spirit world. "I know I am a child in your eyes as I worship you, Chango! I did not perform the perfect sacrifice but I did the best I could! Thank you for hearing me, for inspiring me to build Genderblender" - and she gestured broadly to the copper pipe construction behind her - "and guide me always." With her last words, she grew still as she slumped forward, breathing heavily.
What was this? Skipper was laughing? "Come on, Private! To the car!" In the rising wind and spitting raindrops, the damp earth dampened further to a respectable slurry.
"Wot?"
"Just follow!"
And then they sprinted to where they had parked the car. Skipper leaped into the driver seat without waiting to see if Private followed. He seemed hell bent on crashing into Frances Alberta, Private thought, a bit of mayhem that he had not foreseen. In her enervated state, she might not get out of the way in time. At least her injuries would punish her for what she had made him witness about himself, although his commander's wild laughter disturbed him. Skipper wore a demonic look close to Rico's when Rico neared implosion, or explosion, whatever term fit. Skipper's shout rivaled the rumbling heavens.
"Hooha! We'll get you, Frances Alberta!"
Not towards the woman seated in the mud, but towards her mecha they sped, bumping over the mats as Skipper gunned the car at each patch of earth. Mud spattered the rocket-shaped kiddie ride, the smoothie making thingy that Frances Alberta called Genderblender, and a dozen more rusting metal structures. A giraffe's legs were all they could smear, but the rest of the rides got satisfyingly dirty.
By the time the woman connected the dots and rose to her feet to confront them, all her mecha showed gritty polka dots and hey, the brief weather event passed so she would need to hose them off herself in lieu of rainwater! Private wondered where they would head next as Skipper zzzzzrrrred their car through the mud to head their tailpipe towards the woman at five feet away, who walked or rather stumbled tiredly towards them.
Skipper gunned the engine, flat out floorboarded it, and Frances Alberta threw up her arms to protect her face from spattering earth. The leggings and loose top showed all the punishment that Skipper intended to inflict, Private supposed, because then they raced away onto Manhattan's slick streets.
"Great! You did it, Skippa! You got her good!" It was like a date that proved better than planned. He didn't need to risk injury to his little parasite inside himself, Skipper looked satisfied as he continued laughing crazily, and the prediction of pain hadn't happened yet and perhaps would not, if Frances were the noobie in Santeria she claimed.
"Yeah! I feel great!" Skipper said as soon as he could talk. He straightened from his hunch over the steering wheel and pulled Private close for a kiss before releasing him. The kiss tasted of glee.
"Where are you takin' us?"
"Dunno, kid! Dunno! Just go with the flow, huh?"
And so Manhattan's alleys saw their speedy travels, the sidewalks provided smooth stretches, and life returned to normal. The niggling worry about pain lingered, however.
"Wot do you think she meant by pain, Skippa?"
A wild burst of laughter gave way to, "Don't you get it, Private? Frances Alberta is a mammal! Mammals go through hell giving birth and we're not mammals. I never heard that birdies like us have problems that way. Frances Alberta is self-centered and for a zookeeper, not very smart about animals."
Several blocks passed before Private finished thinking about that intel. "I, I suppose you're right. Anyway, can we stop for a bit? Right there, in the alley behind the - behind the - "
"Right here? Sure, babe." Skipper pulled into the alley and pulled Private onto his lap. He snuggled and kissed until Private's silence grew longer. "Babe?"
"Skippa, I can read!"
"Astounding. How did that happen on my watch?" Skipper rumbled. "I want you barefoot and pregnant and illiterate." He lazily rubbed the webbing of Private's toes.
Private sounded as if a touch of ditheriness lingered. "Not really!"
"No. Not really." Skipper ghosted a kiss between the third toe on Private's left foot and its adorable neighbor. "If this is Chango's doing, way to go and the team appreciates it, Chango."
"No, it's not him or at least I think it's not, it's just - well, glom the motel sign across the street."
A modest motel flashed neon words that Private knew Skipper couldn't read, but to his own mind it was a revelation and oh, so perfectly on point. "See? It says OXXO and then wotever is next is the word Motel, I s'pose."
"And?" Skipper continued inventorying Private's charms until the young penguin pushed away the questing flipper.
"I'll teach you, Skippa, it's easy. The crossed hockey sticks are kisses and the round snowballs are hugs. That's all we need to learn about readin', am I right or am I right?" Private's smug level just blew off the needle on its meter, so he ought not to have been surprised Skipper reality checked him with a goose as fast as Lundqvist could block a goal. "Crikey, that's all we animals need to learn and oh. Oh. Oh! Do that again!"
"I'm afraid I'll hurt the egg."
Private sobered. "I hadn't thought of that. You're right, we'll abstain for awhile and maybe beyond our week, even."
"I - guess it's wise?"
Pregnancy gave courage for what he felt compelled to say next. "And no swearin' in my presence, either, and I'll do my best not to cuss, too. You never know wot littles pick up when we - "
He broke off when Skipper stared at his face and then his belly. "Not even - "
"Not even. Especially not that one."
"Braap! Sorry, last one! Just had to get it out of my system."
IOIOIOIOIO
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Undertow