The Secret Ingredient
By Deadbolt Polished
First Sequence: Fish
"Kowalski, this is the third week in a row that we've had these... cakes..." Skipper said, breaking the dry fish cake in half and watching the crumbs pile up on the floor at his feet. "Tell me the analysis will come back soon?"
"While I was able to confirm that it meets our requirement of proteins, vitamins, etc. I was not able to determine out of what materials they made it out of. I suggest regular fiber and vitamin supplements-..."
Skipper cut him off as he grabbed Kowalski's face and pulled it close to his. "This is not fiber and vitamins, man. This is dirt on top of dirt and dirt. But we need you to prove that before we can make a statement."
The plan was to prove that it was made out of dumpy materials and then get a police investigation into what the food was really made of and get the production line canceled.
"All I can tell you at this moment is that it has a higher dosage of protein than is necessary, but not so much that it could cause any problems."
Skipper released Kowalski's face and stepped back. He rubbed his beak in thought. It certainly wasn't fast enough. They needed definite answers and they needed them now. Observing the process would yield faster answers and hopefully help them get rid of this garbage sooner.
"Kowalski, forget the sample analysis. What intel will we need to trace these cakes back to their source?"
"We wait for the next shipment and look for shipping information with the crate. That or hack the zoo computer for answers on the shipping information."
"Rico? What's your decision?" Skipper asked looking over smugly at the manic.
Rico upchucked a chainsaw and gave an excited cackle of maddened glee.
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Two days later, in Detroit, they were positioned inside a large factory lying in boxes, each with a pair of binoculars pointed at the beginning products for the fish cakes. It began with grains being poured into a machine. It was churned with water until it was a fine paste. It was followed by some different colored liquids which quickly became the same color as the rest of the substance.
"All routine so far. "Kowalski reported.
"Keeping watching, you never know when they'll make a surprise move." Skipper replied.
The liquid was poured into a large pot and seemed to be simmering. The machine then moved the pot aside and a belt began moving, bringing more materials for the cakes.
"We can probably wrap it up, Skipper." Kowalski said, shaking his head. "They'll probably add some sort of flavoring and that'll be it."
Suddenly, flowing along the belt came a man, strapped down to the belt. His mouth was taped over and his eyes were wide as he was brought to sit beside the pot. Two more men were brought to be held beside it. Three workers came out of the next room, wearing protective suits that were customary when working with high concentrations of certain chemicals.
"What are they doing?" Private asked.
"I have no idea." Kowalski said.
Each worker wheeled in a table covered with a white cloth on it, and various instruments in a careful arrangement on the cloth. They workers seemed to examine each man before taking a large, deadly looking scalpel off the tray.
A swear left Skipper's beak before the scalpel was used to cleanly make slits over each of the knuckles of each person's hand and then one at the legs and the shoulder. The humans writhed in pain as the gashes opened up, grinning up at the workers as they continued their task. They then took a large cleaver and chopped each finger off at precisely where they had cut it just a few seconds ago. The fingers simply fell off like a piece of a chocolate bunny. The ingredients howled into the tape over their mouths. The blood flowed steadily from the severed stumps as the workers picked up the first finger that was closest. Another set of workers came in as though on clockwork and brought a disposal bin to the side of the butchers. Each worker took a sharp instrument that looked like a modified pair of tweezers.
They pushed the sharp points into the clean cut flesh of the fingers and began working it into under the skin and muscle. Soon they pulled white bone from the fingers, splattered with blood. They tossed the bone into the disposal bin, reaching back into extract each piece of bone until the fingers were nothing but hollow pieces of flesh.
"Good God..." Skipper groaned, his stomach wishing to toss its contents up.
The workers then used a pair of scissors to cut the flesh, so now it was nothing but a strip, white and blood on one side, bloody and covered in veins on the other. They then tossed this into the batter of the fish cakes. All of the penguins' eyes widened they all began to hack and cough, feeling their lunch rising, and rising further still as the aroma of baking flesh began to reach them. The works then covered the bleeding hands of the ingredients with paper and tied tourniquets at their wrists.
They then took an even larger cleaver than before and began hacking into the thighs of the victims. After one or two hacks a piece, the limbs came off, and the blood and bone were revealed underneath, all spurting and gushing blood. They then took the thigh, using a straight blade to tear a hole inside of the severed limb to loosen the flesh inside the thigh. They proceed to cut it away. By now Rico was smiling evilly but feeling a bit queasy, Kowalski and Skipper had both vomited their last meal. Private just saT motionless, staring in awe. The femoral artery was now exposed over the bone. One of them was still pulsing slightly, pushing blood out on to the already blood covered work area. The workers carefully removed the femoral artery from the rest of the flesh and bone and squeezed the blood from it into the vat before throwing the piece of flesh- that now resembled a wet pasta noodle- away. They then scraped the rest of the flesh they could off of the femur into the vat while another team came into to start injecting adrenalin into the victims and stopping the bleeding.
"Won't some of the bone fragments get into the cakes?" One of the workers asked.
"It doesn't matter, it just comes up as an especially hard piece in a cake." Another replied.
Skipper vomited again, he had had a particularly hard one earlier today. The one he had held in his flippers. It was made from flesh and bone...
The butchers then returned to the people who were tied down making incisions in the stomach and opened them quickly. They began digging in the internal organs and pulling out the organs they wanted. One pulled a blackish brown glob.
"This one is an alcoholic." The one holding it said.
"Toss it in. The animals don't know the difference." Another said.
Kowalski vomited again this time, the last part of his sick tasting a bit like liver.
They cut the stomach off of the esophagus and poured the contents of the stomach into the vat and then dropped it in the disposal bin. They then began making incisions in the victims heads. They were all still alive, only just so. They still felt the pain and still struggled.
"Why do we keep them alive so long?" One of the butchers asked.
"They say the pain makes the meat taste better. And the part of the brain we use is better if its still alive when cooked." Another answered.
They cut a lump of the brain out, holding the wrapped tubes in their hands for a second, turning it over and feeling the mass, looking for tumors before dropping it into the batter. They then disposed of the body in a meat grinder. Long strips of flesh and fragments of bone were forced through the machine, landing in bloody heaps in a pan, with a splat. They meat was marked to go to the U.S. Navy and sent out of the room. The pieces of the body were meanwhile cooked in the batter and stirred with coloring until it was all the same bland color. It was then poured into molds and cooked at a higher temperature. By the time the cakes were being packaged, all but Private had fainted. Private gave a hiccup that tasted like sick, but his eyes stayed wide as he watched them take the new food away, the question of the high amount of protein was no longer a question.