Living weapon. Maniac. Whirlwind of Destruction.
Rico felt the wind in his feathers as he tore through enemy after enemy, the sound of the blood pumping through his veins echoing the rumblings of the bombs launching through the air. Despite having gone on many undercover espionage operations after aligning with the North Wind, this is where he felt the most alive; a whirlwind on the battlefield with his brothers at his side.
To his right, Skipper was flawlessly disarming Tern soldier after Tern soldier. The leader's skill was matched only by his ambition. Rico watched with admiration as the flat-browed Penguin engaged more enemy soldiers than Kowalski and Private combined.
That's not to say that Kowalski and Private were slacking. To Rico's left, the scientist and the young soldier were using a tag-team method to distract and subdue enemies. While they did not have the 'brute force' advantage of Skipper or Rico, they made up for it in tact. The poorly trained enemy birds barely had time to blink before they were slammed into the ground by a flash of black and white.
Rico was glad to take down the remains. With a barrage of recently swallowed metal pellets, he disabled the remaining Terns with remarkable efficiency.
"Rico!"
Rico's head snapped up at the sound of his brother's commanding voice.
"Leave some for us, will you? It's not like we get to do this every day."
Rico sighed. Skipper was correct; while there had been an increase in these skirmishes, there were still a limited amount of missions on which they got to, as Skipper would say, 'Blow this tin can sky-high'. He let the remaining pellets fall limply to the ground with a sigh. Next time, he would remember to draw it out a bit longer.
He kicked a pellet which flew across the room, colliding with the head of the last standing Tern soldier. Even when not trying he was still a weapon of destruction.
"Rico!"
With an apologetic whimper, Rico walked over to the Tern and propped him in a standing position. He turned toward Skipper with a mischievous grin crossing his scarred features as he mimed a punch in the air.
"Fine," Skipper sighed. "I want you to know that this is only to make up for you stealing my thunder. Prepare to launch!"
Skipper rushed forward, leaping in the air at the last second. His foot collided with the Tern, sending it flying toward the other end of the base. Rico applauded, a huge grin plastered on his face. Skipper turned to him, smirking.
"You see, Rico? That's overkill Penguin style! You finished over there, boys?"
Kowalski and Private had finished analyzing the computers within the base. Motioning for Rico to begin 'controlled demolition', Kowalski made his way over to Skipper.
"The North Wind appears to be wrong about this being a strategic base, sir. I analyzed the system's hard drive and all I could find was downloads from online poker and long-ended television series."
"Nothing useful then?"
"Well, sir, I did manage to commandeer their copy of 'I Dream of Jeanie'"
"Great news, boys! This operation wasn't a complete waste of time after all! Rico got to take out several weeks' worth of bent-up psycho and we got enough material to fill not one, but three movie nights!"
Rico watched as his three brothers did a 'high-one' in celebration. Having finished embedding the dynamite within the base, he indicated to Skipper that it was time to rock-and-roll. They exited the base, discussing the future of their well-earned prize.
"Rico, would you do the honor"
The fire from the explosion illuminated the sky. It burned brightly, reflecting the fire within the soul of the weapon's expert. The four penguins watched as the flames rose higher and higher into the sky, blocking out the stars that looked down upon them. A dominating presence, much like the silent warrior that created them. Rico's eyes glowed red with the light of his creation. What, on Earth, could one love more than pure, un-restrained destruction?
"Soak it in, boys." Skipper's often grating voice had assumed a surprisingly soft tone. "Soak it in. Rico, bring any campfire treats."
Rico regurgitated a pack of marshmallows and the boys began to draw out an intricate plan on how they could possibly roast them on such a large flame without roasting themselves as well. With joy in the air, mixed with the scent of singed feather as the first attempt proved unsuccessful, it was no surprise that the four failed to notice the camera facing them from the shadows.