Disclaimer: I don't own The Penguins of Madagascar or any of the themes displayed here.

Thing before the Author's Note: If this is your very first time reading this, I do have to say that this story will have OCs that were introduced to me about two years ago. But, I'm not here to bore you to death with their bland personalities. I know some of you get put off by the sight of OCs (I do too). I'm here to prove that OCs are okay in fanfics if the character has a specific significance and adds to the plot instead of just existing there with one-liners and horrible, horrible love stories. After reading childish fanfics and mature fanfics for years, I think I know the difference between an OC that has flaws and character other than a shitty one.

Author's Note: Remember when I said that this story was going to be published on October 31st? Well, I lied. I've decided to just update whenever I can. So, no schedule. That leaves me with less stress. Yay. There also might be a few errors here and there, I'll fix them tomorrow.

This is probably going to be the largest story I've ever written (because I've written so much heh *sarcasm*). So, this story will probably take me years to write and complete. You will see these characters develop, grow and on many occasions, die.

So, the characters you will witness here will not be the same towards the end of the story. The penguins will not be who they used to be. Their entire world will fall apart. Fairly quickly, actually.

In this fanfic, no one is safe. Not even the penguins or any other Madagascar character that will appear here. Hell, I can kill one of them in the very beginning, and still have a story to write. But, I won't do that because that wouldn't be fun. I'll have to put them through the very definition of hell, at least. When the story begins, there won't be many recognizable people at first, but don't fret. A lot of Madagascar characters will come into play much later on. Much. Later.

So, this story is in an alternate universe. Meaning that there are no humans living amongst the animals. Human isn't even a word in their dictionary. Humans always seemed to be holding the characters back from what they can do, so I decided to off them all of. Those pesky humans.

I will begin to explain the second story of this fanfic when I post the first chapter of 'Cobalt', so no details until then.

Without further ado, here's the story you've probably miss-clicked on. Enjoy.


Prologue

Unknown Location

Tall grass stretched for miles across the open plain. The large, puffy clouds loomed across the blue sky. The tall yellow grass swayed with the cool winds of the fall, producing an ocean of pure gold. A lemon-colored butterfly flapped its wings over the top of the large field, slowly passing by the yellow sea.

The butterfly lowered, making its decent towards the ground. Brushing past the blades of grass, the insect landed on a small pool of red liquid. It extended its black tongue and began slurping the crimson liquid. Its wings, the only thing audible, slowly opened and closed in five second intervals. There was a dead silence. The wind died; the grass stopped roaring.

That's when a gunshot broke the deafening peace. The butterfly slowly crept across the pool of blood. Its hairy legs stretched the thick liquid with every step. A low groan was heard, creeping closer to the insect. The wheezing intensified, causing the insect to flap its wings frantically to escape the loud noise. But, to no avail, the butterfly was trapped in the thick liquid. Its panicking only caused its right wing to come into contact with the pool of blood. The thick liquid slowly ran up the veins of the wings, making its way towards the innocent creature. The groaning grew louder, lurking towards the butterfly.

The tall grass came crashing down, revealing a hideous beast. Its face was dark and frayed. Flaps of flesh hung by a thread. Blood ran down its cheeks and forehead. It was missing its left eye. The blank, soulless eye peered off into the distance. Its lips had eroded away, leaving only the yellow, jagged teeth and purple, bloody gums.

Its arms came forward, helping drag the disfigured creature to its destination. The insect had given up trying to flee. Its wings were completely soaked in the warm blood. Its wings slowly opened and closed, as it drew its last breath.

The horrible creature dragged itself once more; its matted arms were covered in slashes. There were two major ones where its wrists were, revealing the pink bone underneath. Blood soaked its forearms, causing the soil and pieces of dead grass to be carried away with it.

The creature lifted up its head, hissing at the sky. It was quickly silenced by a sharpened spear. The weapon shattered through the skull and came out its jowl, spilling blood down on the insect that now had its head swell up in size.

The spear was quickly retrieved, making a squishing noise as the creature fell with a splat. The man looked down upon the dead creature in disgust. He hated the things. The reason of existence remained unsolved, but the sight of these beings made his blood boil. The smell was the worst part. The stench of rotten flesh burned his nostrils. He never was used to the smell. He always tried to take his mind off of the smell, as if it would help killing off these things. But he still had to look at them. The distorted faces of people who were once alive.

He looked up towards the tall hills in the distance. There was the deafening silence again. He didn't want to look behind himself. He'd have to face the massive failure he had achieved. They tell him that they captured him, that it would all be over. But, will it? They still have to face the dead. Even if they have him in custody, they still have to put up with this world. He knew that there were going to be more of them. That was what made him scared. It wasn't the dead; it was the living.

"God help us…" he whispered to himself.

He turned around, looking up high at the sky where the white smoke billowed. From a distance he witnessed his family moving about, carrying luggage onto a campervan. Between him and his family, hundreds of rotten mangled corpses. They'll have to start burning soon. And fast. Otherwise, more of them will come. He didn't even notice the butterfly's head below him split open, spilling yellow pus against the pool of blood.

"We'll be okay." He told himself. Even that lie couldn't keep him sane. He knows things will only get worse. The scary thing about it: he couldn't do anything to stop it.


The Dead

Season One

Not Fade Away

Queens County, New York City, New York

Another morning made its way to the suburbs of the city. Animals left their homes, driving to work to beat traffic, or rushing to take their kids to school before the bell rang. At the heart of the city, the final pieces of the country's symbol of freedom and opportunity were being fitted into place.

People roamed the streets, heading down towards to catch the morning subway, or heading down to Central Park for a picnic, enjoying the fresh and welcoming air. The trees kept most of the noise pollution of the city. The cool breeze eased the muscles and the soft grass released stress.

In the suburbs, a female otter is flipping through the channels, trying to find something to watch that didn't try to eradicate her brain cells. The mornings always lacked in television broadcasting. They always played programs for toddlers or showed re-runs of old shows that no one even remotely remembers about.

"Is there anything good nowadays?" Marlene inquired, hanging her head over the head rest of the wooden chair. Her right arm dangled with the remote, she had to remind herself not to drop the thing.

"Not that I know of. All they show nowadays are shows of half-naked people running around causing drama. How that's television, still baffles me." Skipper answered, flipping a pancake.

The smell of the pastry entered the nose of the otter, causing her stomach to grumble with hunger, quietly yelling at the penguin to hurry the hell up. She always bought her breakfast from the local McDonald's, but Private insisted that she should come over and have breakfast with them. Though, the little officer wasn't present. Neither were the other penguins. "Hey, where is everybody? Weren't we supposed to have breakfast together?" Marlene inquired, searching the large living room.

"Rico's holding the fort at the moment and Kowalski is on patrol." Skipper answered. His answer sounded so robotic, Marlene had to cover her mouth not daring to question if he really was a robot.

"And Private?" the otter asked.

"He's with Rico filling out the large piles of paperwork back in his office at the HQ." Skipper answered, turning off the stove. "I told him that breakfast together is nearly impossible. We're on such a busy schedule; we can't even have breakfast by ourselves. We don't see each other until late at night. Even then, we're still working. We got this house to get us to start doing something that doesn't involve putting handcuffs on a drunk." Skipper sighed.

Marlene's eyes met the ground. "Do they like it?" she asked.

"Of course. The place has a basement and an attic. We know that the attic's full of spiders, so Private going up there is not an option. The basement will serve as Kowalski's lab. Much better than having it in the garage, all crammed. Rico's using the backyard for weapon training and other stuff Rico does. Just being able to say we own our own backyard makes me relieved."

"You know that's not what I was asking about." Marlene said sternly.

Skipper lowered his head and placed both flippers on the granite counter. He sighed, "This is necessary. We need this place. That apartment wasn't doing us any good, especially with the rent. A 'hellhole' Kowalski once called it. Wherever we go, our work follows us. There are eleven million people living in this city. Crime's always alert and waiting to strike. And with a city like this, you'll never catch a break. Maintaining your relationship with your team while also trying to maintain an entire city can have its toll. I'm sure they know the gravity of the situation."

Marlene couldn't help but to feel for her flightless friends. They're struggling, and she can see it. Her only choice left was to steer away from the topic. "So, your guys aren't coming, but you're the one who's here. Why's that?" Marlene inquired.

"I didn't want to disappoint you. I mean, you were bugging us for a tour of the new house." Skipper replied with a smile.

"Still waiting on that tour. But in all seriousness, why are you really here?" Marlene asked.

"The HQ figured I should have a day off."

"And you agreed to that?" Marlene scoffed.

"I only took the morning off. They'll have to put up with my face in the afternoon." Skipper smiled.

She turned her head towards the small TV and pressed the CH+ button. "You have this huge house, yet you have the world's smallest television." Marlene commented.

"The boys don't even use the damn thing. They're not as addicted as you." Skipper replied.

"I'm not addicted." Marlene raised a brow.

"Says the girl who asked me what's good on TV." Skipper replied.

"Stalemate." The otter proclaimed.

After pressing the CH+ button a few more times, she landed on The Weather Channel. The red header read: Lowest Temperatures of the Century Expected. At that moment, the winds outside picked up. Her spine shivered at the thought of the cold. She became so transfixed on the television screen that she jumped when Skipper placed her plate on the table.

"Heh, 'not a TV addict' are you?" Skipper joked.

"No, not that," She turned her attention to the TV, "are you seeing this?" she turned up the volume.

"Temperatures in Northern New York have reached an all-time record low at just fifteen degrees Fahrenheit." The weatherman announced.

"Fifteen?!" the otter exclaimed.

"That's what the man said. Mind changing it to Chuck Charles?" the flat-headed penguin asked.

"Didn't you hear him? Fifteen degrees! We might as well go ice fishing over at Central Park!" the otter scoffed.

"Marlene, it gets like this every year. The media is just getting in your head." Skipper replied, getting up to grab his cup of jo from the grunting coffee machine.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"But what if-"

The leader groaned, shaking his head. "I'm joking." Marlene smiled, shutting off the television right when the weather reporter cut to Albany.

At that moment, the doorknob rattled. The door unlocked and a young being waddled inside. Private placed the keys on the window sill, turning to see the two others in the house. "Oh dear, for a second there, I thought you two were robbers!" Private giggled, closing the door.

"What are you doing here so early? Is everything okay?" Skipper began worrying.

"The HQ is just a tad bit busier than usual. I'm just guessing that Friday is to blame. I'm here because I left a file here that I need for a good pile's worth of paperwork… and also thought my flipper could use a break." The young penguin smiled.

"How bad is it?" Skipper asked. He could already imagine the chaos happening over there. They needed him over. They can't do their job all by themselves. Why the hell did he agree to take the morning off? One lousy morning and everything's already gone to shit.

"Not from here, Skipper. From Albany." Private assured.

"Albany? What's Albany paging New York for?" Skipper asked, raising a brow and placing a flippers on his hip. His signature pose.

"They're saying that there's riots over at Albany. We can't get through and the news is not very helpful." Private answered.

"I should be over there. It was stupid of me not to attend." Skipper said turning to turn off the coffee maker, but realized that it was still pouring the dark, bitter liquid. "Maybe until this thing finishes." Skipper said.

"I wonder what's going on over there. I hope it's not really riots." Marlene asked nervously. She was worried of course. The thought of what Skipper told her crept through her mind. The media. That helped her not to think of it as much. But she still had that feeling.

"I don't think it is. Maybe it's just a mix-up of some sort. The boys over in Albany always tend to confuse things. They once confused a little girl's birthday party for a meth kitchen." Skipper commented. "Go get what you need and then we'll go look for Kowalski and sort this thing out." The leader ordered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Aye, Skippah!" the young penguin saluted and ran off towards the bedrooms.

Private waddled down the corridor. As he walked, he turned to his left and looked at the unfinished painted wall. It's been a long time since they ever got started. So long that he couldn't even remember what color they were painting with. It was either starting to turn a dark blue, or finishing with white. Most of the house was white but that doesn't mean that the house was originally that color. Or was it? He couldn't put his flipper on it. "Did you find them yet?" Skipper's voice echoed throughout the hall.

"Still looking." Private responded not moving his eyes off the wall. He liked the dark blue better; he would have to decide which color paint he should buy later. He took one last look at the strokes on the wall and waddled to the office space that they had.

He opened the door revealing what was inside. Piles and piles of papers were scattered on the tiled floor. Pens without caps on them lay on the cold desks. He sighed. Cleaning this place hadn't crossed their minds. It was never thought of as an actual room. Just a working area. There were four wooden desks in each corner on the room. Cardboard boxes full of folders and documents reached the rim, nearly toppling over and falling on the floor.

When they worked in here, they didn't really talk to each other. Just come in, get your files or finish your days' worth of paper work, suffer from the headaches they gave you, and get out. He had not really stopped and really gave this place some thought. Except from the splitting headaches he would get from this room. Just the sight of this place made his head throb.

He waddled over to his desk. The top was covered by packages of pens and papers. A blue striped box was placed on the top left corner of his desk. Sadly, he was a bit too short to look inside the box. He tiptoed, peering inside to see if the papers are in there. Shuffling through the files and crumpled up notes. They never really kept things organized.

So many thoughts were suddenly passing through his mind. The walls, this room, what's next? Him questioning what's in everything that he ate? Come to think of it, he couldn't really remember when was the last time he ate something. Let alone with his friends. He just tried to shut everything off and focused on the task at hand. Or flipper.

After about a few seconds of searching, he found the file he was looking for. He opened the file to make sure. The date, the location, the offense. This was it.

He placed the file under his pit when something caught his attention He took a closer look. Inside the striped box, laid an open file. Some of the pages had slid out, fusing with the other papers. Thankfully the sheets had slid in a pattern making it easy to identify which ones belonged with each other. Private placed the file down on the desk.

He finds a picture of a young girl. MISSING was typed underneath the photo. The girl was about twelve years of age. The text read: Kallie Leeds. She went missing at a late afternoon when her mother said she did not return home. The sad truth, Kallie was a runaway. She would sell herself to grown men. Just the thought of it caused his stomach to churn. Sick. The case turned from a simple girl going missing to a series of mass murders.

He shut the file, not wanting to remember the cold, haunting memories of the case. The atmosphere was choking and evil. Pure evil. "He would go for the little ones" they said. "The ones that would go without a care in the world." But with this specific girl, he messed with the wrong one. She was one out of twenty-three. Sadly, no one ever missed them. Skipper had to keep him out of this case because of how dark it was.

He sighed. Skipper's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Private! Rico's going to need the files on his desk!" his voice echoed.

"On it!" Private answered. He whisked the file from his desk and waddled towards the stack of old cardboard boxes.

Skipper opened the door for the otter, while grabbing the keys Private left on the window sill. The otter stepped out towards the open air. The air had gotten colder the last time she was out here, which was only about thirty minutes. She couldn't keep the thought of winter out of her mind. Private followed with the boxes.

Skipper witnessed the young penguin struggling, "Here, let me help you with that." The leader offered, grabbing one of the boxes.

Private felt a tremendous amount of weight being released from his flippers. His spine no longer ached, and his lungs were able to fully expand. He let out a long sigh of relief. "Oy, thank you, Skippah. I don't know how much longer I had if had continued," Private thanked, waddling down the concrete steps of the front door.

"Hope you enjoyed breakfast," Skipper called out.

The otter spun her head, "Oh, yeah. Thank you for that. I really needed an excuse to get out of the house." Marlene smiled, crossing her arms.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that!" Private exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Marlene." The young penguin apologized. Under his feathers, his face grew bright red from embarrassment.

"Don't worry, Private." She looked at Skipper, "I know how busy you guys are."

The leader kept packing the trunk of his vehicle. "Is that everything?" the leader asked, not taking his eyes away from the inside of the car.

"That's everything, Skippah." Private turned to the young otter. "Ya know… maybe we all can spend this weekend together? How about a movie? I've heard around the HQ that that new Lunacorns movie is amazing…" The young penguin murmured.

"You didn't just hear that from Jackson's kids?" Skipper asked, raising a brow.

Private lowered his head, "No…" he replied under his breath.

"I'll see what we can do," the otter replied. "I'd really like to get out of my house for once." she sighed.

Private's smile intensified. Skipper had already climbed inside the car, quickly shutting the door. His stern look turned solemn whilst inside. "We'll see you soon, Marlene. Take care!" the young penguin waved goodbye as he climbed inside the passenger's side. Skipper quickly turned the engine over. The car coughed, clearing its lungs before fully functioning. The leader stepped on the pedal and the two were off towards their destination.

Marlene's forced smile faded. She began walking down the sidewalk down to her house. The cool air was gnawing at her. The wind was a bit slower than before. She glanced at the lawns of the surrounding houses of the neighborhood. They were all coated with a variety of different colored leaves. Piles here and there. Shades of red and orange in between piles. Purples and greens if she was lucky.

The trees began stripping themselves of their leaves. More and more slowly drifted with the freezing wind, piling up on lawns, giving the neighbors more of a headache. The road suffered as well.

The golden drop of warmth was shining at its brightest. Its warm rays, warmed everything it touched, but it didn't do much. The winds were still chilling. The air was still biting at her. Yet, the leader said otherwise. It felt as if she had left one of her paws out in the freezing air for too long, the skin underneath her fur would most definitely go numb. Her fur did help, but not by much. If it weren't for her fur, she might have just gone through frostbite.

But, the colors of nature were trying to take her mind off of the cold. It almost worked. But the pyrexia of nature was taking over.


Atlanta University, Atlanta, Georgia

"Mass extinction," a professor's voice boomed. "It's probably the reason you're all here."

The dark college classroom was illuminated by the projector that showcased an image of ancient Earth. Laptops with glowing iconic apples filled the room. Not that many students were present. Most of them were out sick with the flu.

"A mass extinction, also known as an extinction event, is when the global population of animals suddenly decreases. The term mass extinction is only used when fifty percent of the species of the planet goes extinct. There have been five mass extinctions in Earth's four point six billion year history. All of which have happened in the past four hundred and fifty years." the professor explained while the entire class tried very hard to keep up typing all of the information down.

"The first mass extinction happened four hundred and fifty million years ago when all life on Earth was in the oceans. This was classified as the Ordovician-Silurian mass extinction event. During the next ten million years, we see two major die-offs. Both of which involve the sudden influx of glaciers and dramatic worldwide falls in sea levels. One of the theories that explain this particular mass extinction event is when Gondwana shifted into the southern polar region. This set off a huge drop in temperature and set off a huge increase in glacial formation which drastically dropped sea levels." the professor continued.

"Now, I hope you people know how to spell, marine invertebrates were hit the hardest with two-thirds of all the brachiopods, bivalves, trilobites, and bryozoan families disappeared. Now, the other and most fascinating theory of what may have caused the Ordovician-Silurian mass extinction is, and I'm not making this up, a gamma ray burst from a hypernova somewhere within six thousand light years away smacked the Earth's ozone layer off the planet and our precious atmosphere was left to drift off into space. Twenty-seven percent of all marine families and sixty percent of all marine genera went extinct." the professor clicked a button on his small remote which caused the next slide to roll in.

"Moving on, we jump ahead one hundred million to three hundred and sixty million years ago to the late Devonian extinction. A series of prolonged mass extinctions will occur during this second mass extinction in which half of all genera and seventy percent of all species will die off. Marine life will once again be hit very hard but so will spiders and the scorpions and the pro amphibians which are just taking their first steps out on the land. There were a series of extinction pulses, each lasting a hundred thousand years. Gamma ray bursts are suspected here, but once again, global drop-offs offs in temperatures are believed to be to blame. Scientists today aren't sure what caused it, probably either an asteroid impact or a giant super volcano. Each of those things would have released massive amounts of ash and debris into the atmosphere, drastically changing the climate. Glaciers once again probably inundated Gondwana, but we also know that ocean levels fell and lost most of their oxygen in the process in what's called ocean anoxia. Some believe the temperatures in the steaming season of the Devonian period fell from ninety-three to about seventy-eight degrees. Coral reefs were hit so hard that it would be a hundred million years before they recovered, but there's another interesting theory here and that's that plants which were for the first time really taking hold on land were observing so much carbon dioxide from the atmosphere that they actually cause global cooling. So in fact plants were responsible for that mass extinction event, those damn plants." the professor joked.

"Now onto the biggest mass extinction event in history, the Permian-Triassic extinction event, also known as the 'Great Dying'. It is now about two hundred and fifty million years ago and a combination of catastrophic events are about to completely alter life on planet Earth. This may have been triggered by a comet or asteroid impact but what scientists feel fairly certain about is that a subsequent volcanic eruption in an area known as the Siberian traps was responsible for an increase in global temperatures up five to ten degrees. These volcanic eruptions covered an area roughly the size of Western Europe and they blasted for a million years. As if the planet wasn't doomed enough, sudden releases of gas from methane hydrate reservoirs below the seafloor, possibly caused by underwater volcanic activity, decimated the seas and leaded to periods of too much oxygen called hyperoxia and too little oxygen, the return of anoxia. By the end of it all, fifty-three percent of marine families, eighty-four percent of marine genera, seventy percent of land species, and ninety-five percent of marine species were extinct." the room became quiet. Not even the sounds of clicking keys on the keyboard were audible. All this talk of death made the atmosphere heavy.

One particular student didn't like this topic. He was a fruit bat and was nineteen years of age. He knew it was coming, but he didn't want to hear all this talk of death. The fact that the world population was nearly killed off five times really made him depressed.

"The Permian-Triassic extinction had an enormous evolutionary effect. It would be more than thirty million years until before vertebrates and the Earth in general would recover. Which, it did recover… until two hundred million years ago when the Triassic-Jurassic extinction killed off many early land animals. This includes the deaths of most of the therapsids, large amphibians, and the archosaurs, paving away for the age of the dinosaurs. No one knows what caused this mass extinction, but what is known is that twenty-three percent of families and forty-eight percent of genera went extinct, leaving plants and the dinosaurs untouched."

"Now on to the very last and most famous mass extinction, the Cretaceous-Tertiary extinction, about sixty-five million years ago. This was roughly the time when the massive supercontinent known as Pangea was breaking apart due to volcanic eruptions. The massive amounts of carbon dioxide from those eruptions may have caused some intense global warming. This extinction was also probably caused by an asteroid impact on the coast of the Yucatan peninsula which killed off all the non-avian dinosaurs and ushered in the glorious age of mammals and birds. The K-T extinction, as it's also known, killed off half of all genera and seventy-five percent of species." the professor turned off the projector.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, brings us to today, where ninety-nine percent of the species that have ever existed on this planet are now extinct." the lights flashed on, sending painful photons into the student's eyes.

The nineteen-year-old fruit bat shot his hand up in the air.

"Yes, Erik?" the professor inquired.

"When do you think the next mass extinction event will occur?" the fruit bat inquired.

The elderly professor took his large glasses off of his face to clean the grease off of the lenses. "Well, I believe we are in the middle of one now. It already has a name and is called the Holocene extinction. We're currently experiencing the worst spate of species die-offs since the loss of the dinosaurs sixty-five million years ago, and it's moving at a rate faster than any other extinction event. Over nineteen thousand species of plants and animals are facing extinction. These extinctions are caused by rising CO2 levels, habitat destruction, invasive species, pollution, and over-harvesting." the professor placed his glasses back on.

"A normal extinction rate on our planet is about ten to twenty-five species per year and we're already doing about a hundred to one thousand times that, so several billion of us are having a big impact on our planet. It could be another ten to a hundred years before we start to see the full force of mass extinction in the future. Now, it's important to teach you all of this information because you all will be the ones who will have to find a solution for this. Though, mass extinctions cannot be stopped and are inevitable, don't blame yourself if you didn't do anything to stop It." the professor smiled.

Erik sat back on his chair. The class intercom sounded, "Attention students, due to lack of students and staff, we have ordered a half-day. Students and staff are advised to go home. Have a pleasant weekend and we will see you all next week, Panthers!" that was the principle.

Without hesitating, the students leaped off of their chairs and began packing. "I'll post this PowerPoint online, study this for your upcoming final exam next week!" the professor yelled at his students.

The fruit bat shut his computer closed, shoved the device into his backpack and ran out the door, dodging everyone in his path. Down the main hall, made a sharp right and ran into the boy's bathroom. He ran into one of the stalls and vomited. His abdomen felt like someone had punched his stomach repeatedly. He felt lightheaded and his short legs trembled. The front door opened.

"You're sick too?" a vampire bat inquired.

The fruit bat sniffled, already feeling better. "No, I just had to listen to my professor basically tell me that we're all going to die." Erik replied. Streaks of saliva hanged from his mouth.

The vampire bat leaned over to the bat and placed one of her paws on Erik's shoulder and began rubbing the fruit bat's side, which sent chills across Erik's body. "Frankie and Addison are sick. They look terrible, even more than usual. Raymond and Tanya are still working at that elementary school. Kyle and Naomi are planning to go to Savannah for the weekend, but I'm trying to change their minds about that trip."

Erik flushed the toilet. "Why's that?" the bat inquired.

"Too many people are sick. This isn't any ordinary flu season, and now we get a half-day? A category three hurricane could be shitting on us and they still wouldn't let us go. Something about this doesn't feel right. I just want to stay here for the weekend." the vampire bat suggested in a pouty voice.

The fruit bat turned to his girlfriend, "I'm fine with that, Kelsi" the fruit bat tried to flash a smile.

Kelsi backed away, "God your breath." she covered her snout.

"Oh, you don't like my breath? I'm soooohhrry, I didn't nooooooohtice." the fruit bat mocked.

"I swear if you—"

The fruit bat wrapped his wings around Kelsi. "Give me a kiss why don't you?"

"Go back to sticking your face in the toilet before I actually have to smack you!" that's she felt his stomach grumble. "Round two?" she inquired.

"Mmm-hmm." Erik replied before running back to the stall.


Twin Peaks Memorial Elementary School, Atlanta, Georgia

It was just about thirty minutes since the bell rang for the surprise half-day was announced in elementary school. The school had a rough past facing bomb threats, suicides, and shootings. It was the oldest school in the Atlanta district, about sixty-fire years old. The school was made of pasty-yellow brick walls, black support poles, and a wooden roof.

When you entered through the front of the school, you were greeted by the front desk to your left. A few steps forward, the principal's office to your right. Another few feet, the assistant principal's office. Further ahead to your left, the supply room full of printers, packets of Xerox paper, and large spindles of construction paper for big group projects. To your right, the nurse's office; the place every kid with a stomach ache visited, wanting to go home.

Once out the doors of the front office, you were greeted by a vegetated courtyard. Stone tables and seats were scattered everywhere adding to about six or seven, maybe eight. Trees were slowly taking over the courtyard but no one seemed to care. The school halls didn't have walls, only a wooden roof and paint chipping poles.

Facing the courtyard, you could either go to the right or to the left. Left of the main corridor was the school cafeteria; to the left, classrooms. Looking part the courtyard, you could see the new building and the school bus station and car pickup. Past the cafeteria, the gym. Beyond that, the playground which was essential.

A police officer walked down the halls of the new building, the only real building in the school beside the front office. It only had about five classrooms. The back of the building was connected to the car pick up section, making it easier for kids to leave safely with their parents.

The police officer had a walkie-talkie in one paw as he walked down the air conditioned hallway of the building. A kid had gone into hiding when the bell rang. The half-day really messed with the kid's schedule. His mother doesn't get out of work until three-thirty. It was barely twelve.

A voice escaped the walkie-talkie, "You find him yet?" a female voice inquired.

The lemur lifted the device, making his large bicep extrude, "Not yet," his light Russian accent shined through. Being born in the mother country and raised there for about five years left an imprint in his accent. Once his family moved to the states, his accent began dancing with the southern twang of the South. The woman speaking through the walkie-talkie was also from Russian descent.

"I've got nothing on the security system." the female lemur replied.

"I'm starting to think that he's already miles away from this place." the male lemur joked.

"The kid's eight. He's got nowhere to go but go into hiding."

Raymond turned around, looking at the dimly lit tiled hallway before leaving. "Two professional body guards let an eight-year-old slip through their fingers." Raymond sighed.

"This is defiantly going to be on our record." the female lemur rubbed her temples.

The lemur scanned the area. The nearby boy's restroom caught his attention. "I'm going to go dark for a second, Tanya." Raymond informed.

"Tell me when you find him." Tanya replied.

Raymond placed his walkie-talkie in his belt. He quietly walked towards the boy's restroom, which fortunately had no door. He stepped inside the windowless septic tank smelling room. He held his nose and watched his step for any waste. Elementary school bathrooms are famous for these little 'presents' left by the young students.

He crept for the last stall. He slowly opened the door. Nothing. Not even unspeakable horrors of the beyond. Raymond faced the exit. He reached for his walkie, "Thought I found him, but no luck."

"Hey, I just got a text from Kyle; he said that they're on a half-day too." Tanya informed.

"And what, they want a ride or something?" Raymond inquired sarcastically. He walked towards the car pickup/bus stop area. He looked around the open area that was surrounded by a chain-link fence, still no sign of the child.

Raymond walked towards the front entrance. He looked to his right, nothing; to his left, the playground and apartments. He was about to leave when he noticed a dark figure stumbling across the road. His pace was slow and his back was hunched.

The lemur reached for the swing gate and sealed off the entrance to the school. Fucking drunks. Raymond thought to himself.

"What did you want me to tell him?" Tanya inquired.

"Tell them that we can't pick them up until four." Raymond replied, not taking his eyes off the shadow figure.

"They're going to be so pissed." Tanya giggled.

"Well, that's on them for not getting their own car." Raymond said, leaving the area.

"Your van has been through literal hell, I have no idea how you've managed to keep that thing alive." Tanya joked.

"Well, our ancestors have faced many global die-offs and they lived for sixty-five million years."

"Like your van."

The silence Raymond gave off made Tanya laugh.


Radiology Room, New York-Presbyterian/Queens Hospital, Queens County, New York

A group of doctors looked and studied the x-rays of a patient's cranial cavity. Inside, translucent grey matter that was the brain, and a bright white mass that invaded both sides of the brain. A rare and life threatening little thing and to top it all off, it's inoperable. Well, that's what the other neurosurgeons who didn't want to get near this thing said.

"The patient has a Grade IV Astrocytoma that extends into both sides of the brain." a neurosurgeon informed his interns. "It's spread out through the corpus callosum, or the broad band of nerve fibers joining the two hemispheres of the brain, like smoke." the surgeon explained.

He pointed at another x-ray of the patient's brain. "Now, the M.R.A. shows us how exactly this brain tumor invades that brain. The way it spreads into both hemispheres, its shape, everything. They don't call it the 'butterfly tumor' for nothing. A patient with a Grade IV Astrocytoma usually dies within six months. There have been a hand full of cases of these tumors and only one-twelfths of them have been successful in operation. Mortality rate during surgery is sixty-seven percent." the surgeon explained. His students were still writing down every single word he was saying.

He narrowed his eyes. "There's a chance the patient could hemorrhage and bleed out on the table, the patient could have a stroke, the patient could become paralyzed, the patient could have permanent motor control defects, and most importantly, the patient could die. Now with all of these possibilities, how do I proceed in removing this inoperable tumor?" the neurosurgeon asked his fellow drones.

Silence. No one answered. Then a hand shot straight up. "Yes, Madeline?"

"Well, the M.R.A. shows that the tumor is situated in the frontal lobe, which leaves an opening. You could go under the pericallosal vessels and attack the tumor on both sides." the intern answered.

The head of neuro smiled. "That's exactly what I plan to do. The operation is scheduled at two; I want you to scrub in."

Madeline smiled. "That's it for this lesson; go on to your next rotation." the neurosurgeon ordered.

A tall penguin poked his head into the room as the interns flowed out of the radiology room. "Tumor?" the penguin inquired.

"Kowalski. I expect Stetson is with you?"

"I'm practically married to the guy. So what does this patient suffer from?" Kowalski inquired.

"Butterfly tumor, inoperable. Just my kind of surgery." the surgeon answered.

"I only know the basics of medicine, you mind explaining what your course of action is?" Kowalski inquired, slowly walking up to the beautiful pieces of artwork that were displayed.

"Well, the tumor seems smooth enough for me to cut around and remove. If it was class V, I would have to implant radiation seeds in his skull to prevent the tumor from growing. It's a beauty isn't it?" the doctor smiled.

"It's magnificent, Dr. Garner." Kowalski smiled. "I should probably go now; I just wanted to see this. When's the surgery?" Kowalski inquired.

"Two," the lights started flickering.

"Let me know what happened, should be an interesting story to tell back at headquarters." Kowalski said, leaving the room.


Emergency Room, New York-Presbyterian/Queens Hospital, Queens County, New York

"Has anyone seen Frank Greens' chart?" a doctor inquired shifting through the mass pile of medical files.

"Patients in beds four, six and seven all need acetaminophen; we need to get those fevers down." another doctor exclaimed, wrapping her stethoscope around her neck.

"Right away, doctor." a nurse replied, running off to the medicine cabinet.

"The kid in bed eight just vomited his prescription; his body is rejecting the meds. And patients in beds one, two and three need ibuprofen, the kid in bed nine needs his mommy and the kid in fifteen won't stop trying to escape from this place. Now if I was him, running away would be an excellent idea right now." a male nurse proclaimed, handing in his charts to a nurse.

A doctor rubbed her temples. Too many people crowding this place. "We're what, two doctors, three nurses and twenty-six patients in here? This isn't enough, we need more people down here." the doctor sighed.

A nurse got off the phone, "We've just got word that a car swerved off into traffic, dozens of traumas."

The doctor thought for a second, "Alright, let's get the people who aren't in critical condition discharged and send patients with the flu to Lincoln Medical, we need these beds for the incoming injuries!" the doctor by the name of Emily ordered.

The hospital was just outside the city. Its E.R. was flooded with sick patients reporting high fever, chills, numbness, weakness, nausea. This flu season seemed to be showing no mercy. Nurses could barely keep up with the infected. They've sealed off the E.R. from the rest of the hospital, keeping the sick away from the uninfected patients. Hoarse coughing and the sounds of sniffling plagued the space, the same sounds we've all known to hear when taking a school exam. The board ordered every personnel to wear face masks to keep the flu from spreading. The hospital was running out of beds for the oncoming patients. They never stopped pouring out of the double doors.

They couldn't go through the front doors; they'd risk infecting the healthy in the waiting rooms and the lobby. A hospital is a breeding ground for the spread of diseases. Too many people in a building filled with sick people.

"We tried that an hour ago, they're flooded as well!" a nurse yelled from across the emergency room.

"What about Queens?"

"They're overflowing with patients too. I just got off the phone with them; they thought they could just dump all of their people here. We've already got too many people coming in here, we need more space!" a nurse yelled in frustration.

"Why don't we just put all the healthy patients in one place?" a voice crept out from all the overlapping conversations.

Emily turned, only to see her boss inside the E.R., "Dr. Jones, what are you doing here?" Emily inquired.

"I rushed over here when I heard. We put all the healthy patients in each floor in one place. That way, we can keep an eye on all of them and have enough beds for the infected and for the incoming traumas." Dr. Jones pitched the idea.

Emily paused, "We can't put all of them in one place together," she shook her head.

"No, he's right. Stable ones can walk and we've got wheelchairs. Let's do it." a female doctor rushed to the front desk and grabbed a face mask before heading into the surgical floor of the hospital.

"You've heard the chief, let's go!" the male doctor exclaimed, grabbing medicals charts from the pile of charts.

Emily turned to her boss, "Are you sure about this?" she asked.

The Chief of Surgery nodded, "It's the best we can do to contain whatever this is."

Emily lowered he head and nodded. The yells of the incoming traumas made her jump.

"Jose Jimenez, multiple lacerations in the abdomen and the extremities. He's lost a lot of blood and won't stop screaming." a surgical doctor yelled over the screams of the young man in agony.

The sounds of a coding patient monitor alarmed the entire emergency room. Emily ran to the coding patient. "GET A CRASH CART IN HERE, NOW!" she barked as she began to lower the patient's bed.

"Starting chest compressions." Emily proclaimed as she began to place her paws on the patient's chest and pushed.

"Crash cart!" a nurse yelled.

Emily grabbed the AED pads from the cart and placed them on the patient's chest. "Charge to one-fifty." she ordered as she grabbed the paddles.

"Clear!" she yelled. The patient's body jolted as the shock of electricity flowed through his body. "Charge to two-fifty... Clear!" The patient jolted. Still nothing. "Charge to three hundred… Clear!" Nothing.

Emily's face turned grim. The patient monitor flat lined. "He's gone. We need to get him off this floor NOW." Emily yelled as they pushed the bed out from the rest of the beds and off to the lower floor.

"Emily?" a voice called.

Emily turned, a police officer stood in the middle of the E.R.

"Don't stop, get this patient down now!" Emily ordered, "Stet? What are you doing here?" the doctor inquired.

"I like to see my wife once and a while. What happened?" Stet inquired.

"You need to get out of here, it's not safe. These people are infected with the flu—"

"Who codes with the flu?" Stet questioned.

"I've got patients to attend to, I need… I need to go. And listen to me, stay away from anyone who coughs." Emily warned her husband as she left the E.R.

The Brown Thrasher was left with apprehension. What's wrong with her? He thought. An elderly man coughed next to the officer.

Static.

"We've got a four one five between Park Avenue and East forty-fifth Street…" Stet turned to the older man with the coughing fit.

"…notifying Forensics immediately," the coughing stopped. The look on the elderly man's face when he looked at his own paw sent shivers down the officer's spine. "…requesting a Code Nine, I repeat, a Code Nine. We need these people off the streets." the officer informed.

Static.

With the information he heard and what he witnessed, the bird rushed out of the emergency room. Something really bad is happening… the bird thought as he climbed inside his vehicle.

His partner turned to him. "Did you hear? They're closing Park and Forty-fifth." the penguin informed.

Stet paused, "You're a scientist, what are the chances of dying from the flu?" the bird inquired.

"With current vaccinations aiding to prevent cases and ease the severity of influenza, I'd say about five percent. Why do you ask?" the penguin inquired.

Stet shook his head, "Emily. She told me to stay away from anyone who coughs." Stet answered.

"Well, she is a resident; she's most likely concerned about the spread of influenza… and you of course."

"The look on her face… she looked mortified about what she knows."

The penguin raised a brow, "What does she know?" his partner asked.

"That's the thing. She would usually tell me a thousand reasons not to do something, but she just told me that one thing. I don't think she knows what's going on, Kowalski…"

This made the penguin feel concerned. Something felt off about this situation. "Let's head back to HQ, we can gather up supplies for the four one five. Then we can start to fathom ideas onto what's happening, no need to start panicking." Kowalski suggested.

Stet nodded. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.


This is where I have to end the first chapter. I know, there wasn't much action in this chapter. Hell, there wasn't any at all. This chapter is just me building a universe, having the characters experiencing real world dilemmas. I didn't like how I originally wrote it. The beginning is completely different, but the path and the end is somewhat the same. Don't worry, the action will be coming. I can also confirm that there will be one hundred episodes. Which means, there will be four hundred chapters for his main story. I've explained this on the original version of this fic.

So, the characters might seem a bit off, but I'm trying to make things realistic. You know, adding realism when a cartoon penguin collides with a brick wall, unscathed is a bit tricky. They've got to have at least broken their beak, snap a few ribs, and fracture their cranial cavity. Add actual logic to a fic, unlike how many of these so called 'authors' nowadays seem to ignore.

I'll update whenever I can. I'll see you in the not too distant future.