Marlene stood outside the cave in her habitat. The rain poured down soaking her fur, but she didn't notice. A shiver ran down her back, it was freezing outside, but she didn't care. It was dark, ten o'clock at night last she looked at a clock, but once again, but Marlene had blocked out the real world long ago. It was too cold and cruel for her.
"Marlene?" A British accented voice asked cautiously. She didn't look up. She didn't want to see anyone who could possibly remind her of him. It hurt too much, "Marlene?" The penguin laid a caring wing on the otter.
"Why'd he have to be so dammed heartless, Private," She choked, the tears welling up in her eyes again. She shrugged, hoping that if she just brushed it of it would go away, "Or does he just not see it?" she forced out a small cough, intended to be a dry chuckle.
"Marlene, why don't you come inside." Private pleaded. Marlene's head lifted slightly, then dropped. She trudged after the youngest penguin and back into the cave. Private sat her down on her bed, before setting a kettle on the boil for a cup of tea. He sat down on the beanbag next to her, "Skippah… he's not good with emotional stuff."
"Understatement of the century. He just, I don't know if he notices me or pretends he doesn't, or if he's blind. Can't he see how much I…" Marlene's voice cracked.
"It's okay, Marlene." Private comforted. For the first time, Marlene looked at the caring penguin. She noticed a red mark across his face.
"What happened to you?" She questioned angrily. Private turned his head, attempting to hide the injury.
"Oh, nothing. Tripped up on the ladder." He lied, though Marlene knew all too well how he got that mark.
What'd he slap you for this time? Blinking? Being alive?" She questioned. Marlene hated the way Skipper treated the boy. Private stiffened.
"I wish you won't say that about Skipper. I tripped up Kowalski while he was carrying the maggufium, if you really want to know." Private replied uncomfortably. He hoped Marlene wouldn't notice that he was, once again, twisting the truth.
"You spoke up for me, didn't you? You tried to explain how I feel about him."
"It was the least I could do for you, Marlene. I don't regret it."
Kowalski wrapped a bandage around his wing. "Early training!" skipper shouted in the scientist's ear. Kowalski jumped, his wounded wing hitting the table. He winced. Slowly, he followed his leader up the ladder and onto the concrete floe. Kowalski stood alongside his fellow teammates as Skipper ran him through drill. Kowalski did his best to compromise for his wounded wing, but it was much harder to do single winged push-ups. Skipper gave him no mercy, constantly telling him he should stop being lazy.
"Rico, you work with Private. Kowalski, you're with me." Skipper ordered, assigning sparring partners. The two faced each other, each striking a fighting stance. Kowalski threw a punch, Skipper blocked and countered with a strike to the injured wing. Kowalski let out a cry of pain, clutching the wing to his chest protectively, as blood began to stain the bandage, the wound reopened. Skipper followed this with a kick to the head. Kowalski hit the floor.
"Skippah…" Private gasped.
"Stitch it up, then we'll try again. It took me less than ten seconds to beat you. That's unacceptable." Skipper criticized.
"I went down in 6.745 seconds because of my wing." Kowalski winced.
"And you think the enemy is going to leave your poor injured wing alone?" Skipper mocked, "Fighting isn't fair. I spotted a weakness and I used it against you. Remember that." Kowalski slowly picked himself off the floor, and climbed down the ladder. Private went to follow, "Training isn't over, Private."
"But Skippah, I was going to help Kowalski…"
"Kowalski knows how to dress his own wounds." Skipper interrupted.
"But if he's doing it himself, he won't be able to use any kind of anaesthetic." Private protested, "We haven't stolen any so far that don't result in severe drowsiness."
"If he was injured in the field, he probably wouldn't even have a disinfected needle. Manfridi and Johnson insisted on painkillers when we were in the Bahamas. They too long, they got left behind."
Several weeks later
"So what does this do, and when should I run for cover before it blows up?" Skipper asked sceptically. Kowalski removed the sheet covering his latest invention, showing it to the team.
"Well, I haven't named it yet, but essentially it prevents any and all enjoyment at lemur parties." Kowalski stated proudly.
"And the point is?"
"Well, Skipper, a couple of days ago, I asked myself: why do the lemurs have parties? What is the motivation behind their parties? Well after a lot of long, and probably unnecessary calculations, I discovered the answer!" Skipper still seemed unimpressed, "The answer is simply that they enjoy them. My invention, the Anti-party-er…"
"I thought you said you hadn't named it?"
"I just made it up. Anyway, if they no longer enjoy parties, they will stop throwing them, as they too will recognise the pointless waste of resources parties are."
"Finally, decent night's sleep!" Skipper jumped the behind the invention, aiming it at the lemurs through the periscope.
"Skipper, don't!" Kowalski shouted, but it was too late. Skipper had already fired the weapon.
"Skipper!" Kowalski dragged his leader away from the machine just before it exploded. When Skipper had fired the ray at the periscope, it had reflected back off the glass, back through the machine, hitting Skipper instead. That was when the machine began to overheat. At first Kowalski was too busy pondering why the beam had reflected off the glass lens, and yet passed strait through the metal to notice. However, when the machine began to glow bright orange, Kowalski returned to reality, just in time to drag his unconscious leader out of the way of the blast.
As soon as the immediate danger was passed, Kowalski franticly checked Skipper's pulse and other vitals, before snatching his clipboard from Rico, "Right, he hasn't exhibited any signs of zombification…"
"Zombification?!" Private took a couple of steps backwards.
"Possible side effect when beam is concentrated," Kowalski replied hurriedly, "Right, pulse is good… so far no evidence of internal bleeding or…" Skipper sat up.
"Ipper!" Rico shouted joyously. Skipper blinked.
"What the deep fried sea cucumber happened?" Skipper stared at the remains of the invention.
"Skipper, how many fingers am I holding up?" Kowalski asked, waving a wing in front of his face.
"We don't have fingers." Skipper stood up and looked around. Apart from the explosing, and the concerned looks on his teammate's faces, nothing seemed to have changed.
"Subject shows no signs of…" Skipper slapped Kowalski across the face.
"I'm fine."
"Subject appears to be, I quote, "fine"." Kowalski recorded.
"Rico, broom." Skipper ordered. Rico regurgitated the said object, passing it to Skipper. The leader then tossed it to Kowalski and pointed at the gigantic mess the exploding invention had made.
"Oh… yeah…" Kowalski smiled sheepishly.
Is Skipper really okay? Well, if you've read the discription, you know he isn't, but you get what I mean. Before anyone gets mad at me, not Skipper is not just being mean. The motives behind his actions will be revealed, later.