Round Robin
or
the five times Team Penguin had to function without their leader
(and the one time Skipper decided he'd left them alone long enough)
A/N: I suppose this is some sort of apology to those of you who have been reading and/or following Arx. I wish I could post the chapters I have sequestered in my computer, but I can't and I won't. Not before I revise them thoroughly and then re-revise them again. I'm just really unsatisfied with what I've done, and real life responsibilities aren't making it any easier. No, I'm not abandoning the story; won't ever have to, hopefully. Now you get to enjoy this 5+1 thing I did as a stress relief. Rejoice.
Disclaimer: I have done nothing awesome enough to own these characters. Unfortunately.
I provided the coherent translation to Rico's garbled speech at the end of the story
Refer to that if you're either a) too confused or b) too lazy to decipher what I typed on your own
...
1.
"Kowalski's log," Two pairs of eyes stared at him. He rolled his own lapis lazuli set. "Too soon?"
A machine at the back of their vehicle beeped. To any other people, it would simply be some obscure machinery that serves an unknown purpose to the engine. But he was the one who built this compact submarine. He knew exactly what machine just beeped, and why it just beeped. He'd offer exposition to his fellow teammates about it too, but didn't take a genius to see they were not in the mood for any educational lecture right now. Not with those scowls on their face.
"Pardon me if I'm mistaken," there was a darker undertone to the words. Their little boy scout was growing up so fast! It almost made him feel proud – almost. "But you sound rather glad."
Rico growled from his seat behind the tallest member of the team. The grunt probably had a meaning, but he really couldn't be bothered to translate it right now. It's not that he couldn't, but listening to unintelligible garbles got tiring after a while. Too much work.
The man chuckled lightly as he fiddled with the tape recorder in his hands. It's such an old model. He should consider buying a new one; for the good of the team, of course. "All that tea must be messing with your head, dear Private. But it's alright to be upset. We did, after all, just witness–"
"Don't!" Heavy breathing. He worried for his own self-restraint. Private's reactions were feeding his fun meter quite generously. If this continues, he'd be bloated with entertainment and forget to conceal his amusement. That wouldn't be good, especially when their weapons expert was this riled up. Absently, he wondered how much C4 it would take to blow the submarine up. He never did test that particular part of its durability. "Don't you even dare imply such a thing."
There was nothing to imply, he'd like to say. They clearly saw it with their own eyes. And reality is one of the last things that would lie to you. The pale man craned his neck backwards until he could see their youngest member in the periphery of his sights. Private's unusually shrewd glower was met with his own half-dead eyes. "Of course, boy." Kowalski drew in a deep sigh as he twisted his head back into a more comfortable position, wistfully exhaling a moment later. A slim smile broke out on his face.
Better make sure his leadership skills aren't out of practice. For the good of the team.
...
2.
What was he supposed to do? Fingers nestled into his hair, pulling and scratching at the scarred scalp. It took him a few seconds to realize that they were his own fingers and not another's. That was a point of relief, at least. It would've been much worse if it was, say, Kowalski's fingers.
'What do I do?'
But Kowalski can't play with his hair right now (not that he'd ever let the creep do that). He was out of commission. He wasn't quite sure if it was a good thing for him to feel happy about one of his superiors being unavailable for duty. If he had spent more time dwelling on it, the emotion calculator would kick in and warn his system for malfunctioning. He had more important things to worry than his emotional reactor malfunctioning, however, and so ignored the chiding entirely.
"Rico!"
The spiky-haired manturned to look at Private, noting how he was gasping for breath. "Wuh?" He had seen that kind of behaviour before, briefly wondering when and where.
"The Zookeepers are getting closer to the vault," the young child let out a groan, clutching at his side. That was when he noticed the red blooming like a flower, dark red against what was pristine white. "They're using explosives to abolish weak spots, so Mason had to tell the Lemurs to evacuate. I tried to hold them off, but I heard reinforcements being called in... p-probably Frankie."
"Dun strahn yehshelf tu mush," the response was near-automatic, his medic instincts kicking in as he moved to support the boy. "Didju get daht treeted?"
"I... I patched it up a bit. Self-repair can only do so much when constant movement keeps breaking the seams." Private winced, but it wasn't one of pain. "Rico, I'm worried."
'Aren't we all,' the weapons expert thought grimly. "S'ippah und 'Washki wuhl be fahn. Go bahg to tha mit'n poant. M'reese'll fiksh daht up fohr yoo."
The boy nodded and forced a smile out. It looked terribly out of place. "What will you do?"
"Ahl tehk caeh of dihs." If this was his chance to prove himself to Skipper, then he couldn't afford to be pathetic. It was the least he could do, regardless of whether he could or not.
...
3.
He vaguely remembered that he was trained for this. Uncle Nigel's words rang out in his mind. You are made for this. You are made for this. You are made for this. On and on like a broken record. Black spots blotted in and out in the corners of his sight. Too much light too much–
'No. Focus. Blink it out.'
Private blinked several times in an attempt to get rid of the distracting black spots. He could barely hear his name being called in the background. Despite there being not many things going on at the moment, their surroundings still felt too loud. "I'm alright... I think."
"You are dazed," Kowalski's usually smooth voice sounded raspy, like he was trying to hold something in. "The disorientation will pass. On your feet, boy, and lend me assistance."
"What happened?"
"Someone threw several noise grenades in, along with an actual grenade."
"...that's a bit of an overkill."
The older man snorted. "It was Blitzen. Don't be so surprised." An ominous creaking of metal, then a stifled groan. Even with his limited vision, Private could tell that the lieutenant was in pain.
"Are you alright?"
"Caucasian," came the sarcasm-doused reply. "My right leg is crushed. I predict a time lapse of half an hour before I can get myself out of this... disadvantageous situation."
"I can–"
"No. That is not what I meant when I said 'lend me assistance'."
"Are you sure–"
"Yes. As we speak, Rico is still waiting, hopefully safely, at point D2. He needs confirmation before he can do anything. I want you to go to him and initiate independent movement from there on."
"I can just use my–"
"Your comm. is crushed. Even with cracked glasses I can see its remains under all that rubble. You are lucky enough to avoid getting pinned under anything. Now, once you've reached him–"
"I think we should get you to safety first–"
"Will you let me finish without interrupting me once every few seconds?" A series of grunts laced with curses left the scientist's lips. "I can get myself out of this. Rico can only take over command so many times. We don't want to stress him out like we did the last time. It's detrimental to the mission, and that is against Skipper's wishes."
'Since when do you care about Skipper's wishes?' "What should I do?"
Kowalski's sneer was that of a challenge being issued. "Take command while I can't. I will rejoin you once I've sorted this mess. Now go."
Private was going to nod, but decided to pour his efforts entirely into getting up on his legs. The task was harder done than spoken, but once he did he wasted no time bolting out of the ruined building. His team was counting on him, and he will not disappoint them.
...
4.
At that moment, there was nothing the three members of Team Penguin would like more than to slap the person behind this horrid, horrid idea. Rico swore that even if it was Skipper who came up with it, he would give his boss a headbutt he would never forget. And Rico's forehead is very, very hard.
"So now you will be the servings of the kingliness of me," even his voice alone was grating to the nerve, they thought. "And the King demands for some dancing vigorously."
"This is not the deal," Kowalski forced out, biting down an exasperated sigh. "Julien, you said you know where Skipper went–"
"Yes! The King knows everything about the silly penguin boss. Even his about whereness!"
"Don't you mean whereabouts?"
"Hush, tiny penguin! The King does not need his mistakes be spoken." The last part was whispered by the dark-skinned man straight into the young boy's ears. The lack of distance was uncomfortable, to say the least.
Thankfully, Rico had no qualms recreating the distance by pulling the lanky Madagascan away from Private. "Yoo pormest to tal us wahr S'ippah is. Nao tal us!"
"What is the crazy penguin saying? The Kingliness cannot stand under his stuuuupid words."
Kowalski tiredly rubbed the bridge of his long nose. "I swear, if this turns out to be one of his incredibly hilarious and utterly enjoyable bonding sessions, I. Am. Going. To. Flip."
Absolutely infuriating and ultimately time-wasting: a description for the Team Bonding Day that Skipper had established, agreed upon by the three lesser members of the team. Infuriating because their leader had a tendency to propose ridiculous activities, time-wasting because with the end of each team bonding session the temporary truce between Kowalski and the two younger males immediately went back to the state of simmering detest.
Private chewed lightly on his lower lip. "'Walski, I don't think we have much of a choice."
"No, we don't." A deep breath. "Alright. Julien, we will grant you temporary leadership over our team. But if you don't hold up your end of the deal, you can expect that beloved mock-throne of yours gone from the Lemur quarters in less than 24 hours."
A horrified gasp. "You wouldn't!"
This was probably one of the only times when Kowalski's grin was infectious. "Lead the way, boss."
...
5.
"Did Skipper authorize this?"
Mason lifted an eyebrow. "What do you make of it?" The half-Asian-half-British held in a chuckle at the sight of Kowalski's annoyed twitch. Sometimes he wished he could screen-cap his monitor. Or maybe he just needed to place tighter limits on what he considered entertaining.
Private's voice filtered into his ears. "I thought Rico said Skipper went on his own volition." That probably wasn't meant for him, judging from the whisper-like volume.
"Unless he's lying," the scientist said, his tone low. "Skipper may have planned this."
"Yoo dun tr'sst me?" The big lug actually sounded hurt. Ouch.
Mason leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. He lamented the fact that he had to remotely rely on Rico and Private for his plan to work. If Kowalski remained incorrigible, then neither he nor Phil will like the results. It's not something he'd normally consider risking, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
For this, he'd even go back and kneel in front of a bloody cross.
He cracked open an eyelid and stared back at the screen. What he saw made his eyes widen considerably. Ignoring Kowalski's irritated calls, he scrambled for his comm.
Activate Red Herring Protocol. Message sent to Agent #02301000 Phillip Moore.
The static lines that had threatened to take over the edge of the screen gradually disappeared. Letting out a breath he didn't realize he held in, Mason returned to answer the irate lieutenant's question. "I'm sure it would be best if you, ah... heed my proposal," he couldn't help the smirk that was slowly creeping to his face. "After all, do you not wish to do what is good for your team?"
"...very well. But if your 'proposal' turns out in any way inefficient..."
"Of course," Mason smiled, a little calmer at the prospect that the deal was sealed despite the unsaid threat. It hardly mattered, not when his chance of seeing his beloved sister again just increased. "I will arrange the transport to Copenhagen for your team. Here's the pickup point..."
Later when they arrived, Rico would salute and tell him that if he can't find Skipper, he will personally bite his neck. The threat was real. The danger was real. So was the innuendo.
He really needed tighter limits.
...
6.
The alley was silent, save for Kowalski's cussing and sounds of melted marshmallow plopping down the asphalt with a squelch. Private cringed, both at the sickeningly sweet smell and at the sight of his team's second-in-command. Rico stood awkwardly on the balls of his feet, staring at the very interesting sky, trying very hard not to meet anyone's eyes. All the while, their venerable leader casually leaned against a graffiti-laden wall, absently playing with the gun in his hand.
Why was that gun there? This particular mission didn't even need guns.
Private coughed.
"Well?" The smugness in Skipper's tone was unbearable. Though drenched in liquid pink sugar, the intensity of Kowalski's glare was palpable for everyone in the vicinity. It didn't appear to affect the team leader much, however, as he continued, "What have we learned today?"
Nobody opened their mouths; for different reasons, the boy suspected. Kowalski surely didn't want his mouth to be suddenly filled with sticky substance. Rico's garbled speech was hardly appropriate to make sense out of this situation. As for himself... well. He really didn't have anything to say.
"What have we learned today, men?"
That was a lie.
"We, uh..." Private gulped. Dear Lord, this was harder than he thought! "We shouldn't infiltrate into a closing candy factory for whatever reason, sir."
"And?"
Why was Skipper making this so hard? "We should not pursue resources that compromise a mission, no matter how valuable they are, sir."
"...and?"
Ah, flapjacks. He got that one wrong. "Um..."
"Don't you 'um' me, boy. I raised my soldiers better than that."
"Yeah, look at how I turned out," Kowalski spat bitterly from the side, but was ignored.
The boy took a deep breath to gather his nerves. "We... there is nobody fit to be the leader of this unit other than yourself, sir."
A grin appeared on Skipper's face. That was the answer he was waiting for? He couldn't believe he was actually thinking this about the older man, but what a jerk. The captain swivelled his head to the side. "Both of you go help Kowalski clean up. Rendezvous at point A3 once you're done. Move it."
"Yes sir!"
...
Translation of Rico's horribly garbled speech in order of appearance:
"What?"
"Don't strain yourself too much." "Did you get that treated?"
"Skipper and Kowalski will be fine. Go back to the meeting point. Maurice will fix that up for you."
"I'll take care of this."
"You promised to tell us where Skipper is. Now tell us!"
"You don't trust me?"
Kudos to whoever caught all the references to other media I threw around. The one in number three is particularly obscure, so if you get it, I'm going to grant you a drabble request based on my Arx AU. Just go ahead and PM me if you think you have the right answer. First come first serve.