Am I dead? Kowalski thought as he slowly opened his eyes, only to find nothing but pitch blackness. The last thing he remembered was feeling really dizzy, after that, nothing.

"Am I dead?" Kowalski repeated, this time out loud, trying to raise a wing that felt like lead. Finally, he managed to get the wing to respond, trying to get it to his face to slap himself (skipper always said this was the best way to tell in situations like this). Kowalski's wing hit something hard. It wasn't cold like metal, and the slight grooves in the surface suggested it might be wood. Kowalski slid his wing along what he was 92.3% positive was a varnished metal board towards his face. However, instead of feeling his own beak, his hand hit what felt like plastic. He felt about the object, which seemed to be strapped to his head. It was an oxygen mask. Kowalski considered trying to take it off, but, considering had no idea where he was, though he was fairly confident he was alive, such devices were normally not used pointlessly.

Kowalski continued to explore his darkened surroundings. From what he had discovered, though his mind still felt like it was fifty per cent cotton wool, he was in some kind of varnished wooden box, with an oxygen mask and a cylinder that, judging by the size, would last him just about two hours. Now, the only question, apart from when the air would run out, was why he was in a wooden box that had no air. Slowly Kowalski's head began to clear. Considering the fact he was in a wooden box, why wasn't the surface he was laying on hard? It was actually quite soft and fluffy. Soft and fluffy… pillow… pillow in varnished wooden penguin sized box…

"Oh my positively charged positrons!" Kowalski screamed, scratching desperately at the wood above. He was in a coffin, and judging by the fact that someone had elected to give him an oxygen mask, he had already been buried.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Had Kowalski not been panicking so much, he would have recognised the increased speed of the heartbeat monitor. Panicking wasn't good. The more he panicked, the faster he'd run through the air in the cylinder. If somebody had intended to come back for him, Kowalski was increasing the chance that they didn't make it in time. If it was some kind of cruel way of killing him on Doris' part, he was only speeding up the end.

"Dig faster Rico…" Kowalski though he heard a muffled, but familiar voice order. He dismissed this as his imagination. He knew something about that from Blowhole, who'd heard Kowalski's voice almost every day he was incarcerated, until, he actually did come. Kowalski fought desperately with the wood, succeeding at only riddling his wings with splinters. Suddenly, his wing punched through the wood he was pounding at, as if the six feet of soil he was undoubtedly buried under had mysteriously disappeared. Then, as he tore at the wood, trying to widen the small crack of light that could be seen around his wing, he felt another wing grab his.

"Calm down, soldier, we'll have you out in a few minutes." Skipper shouted. This time, Kowalski knew it was definitely Skipper's voice. He could hear whirring sound as some drill like device removed the dirt from the rest of the box. There was a click as the coffin was unlocked, and Kowalski found himself pulled out of the coffin, panting.

"What in the second shell of electrons is going on!?" Kowalski exclaimed, once he had calmed down enough to make sense. The penguin was seated on the grass next to the open grave, Rico removing the digging device1 attached to his head that he'd used to exhume Kowalski. Kowalski was trying to remember what had happened before he'd woken up as Skipper pondered his answer. Suddenly Kowalski stood up, and despite his weakened state, and took off across the grave yard. He remembered seeing Skipper watching him intently, just as he passed out. Whatever had knocked him out, Skipper had been at least partially responsible.

"Don't let him escape, Rico!" skipper ordered. Rico only gave Skipper a questioning glance before carrying out the order. Kowalski was, of course, no match for Rico, and found himself roughly shoved to the ground, his wings bound with thin wire.

"Look Skipper, contrary to what seems like popular belief," Kowalski glared at skipper indignantly, "I do not exist simply for the purposes of being tied up, blown up, or poisoned by you, Blowhole, and Doris. Now, what the toasted thorium happened?!"

"Take him to the car."

"You still owe me an explanation." Kowalski repeated as skipper drove the commandeered car down the road at a reckless speed.

"I couldn't let you talk," skipper answered, "I was taking a sample of recently captured ACORN poison with me back to the lab…

Blowhole hadn't been able to run any tests on the body, as he couldn't stay and risk being seen by the police. The average penguin normally wouldn't recognise him as he always made sure the media never got a clear photograph, and the Penguins certainly wouldn't divulge any, but even the slightest research into his background (which would undoubtedly come with being a key witness and possible suspect in a murder) would uncover his true identity. However, he had managed to take a sample of the coffee. Further lab testing had revealed, though he already knew, was that his friend was killed by a dose of the infamous ACORN poison, used exclusively by high level Squirrel agents.

"… I knew you'd been testing a permanent antitoxin for that particular poison last week. I quickly added a little Muiffugam maguffiamate to the ACORN…"

"The chemical that gives the impression of death for 28 hours? Why would you carry that around with you?"

"It's come in useful, more than once. After that I just had to hope that your anti-toxin worked."

"So you were willing to gamble my life on that?" Kowalski asked, outraged.

"It was better than charging in there myself and getting all three of us posted on the six o'clock news, certain death for people like us," Skipper answered. Kowalski nodded grudgingly. Skipper did have a point.

"Why did you bury me?"

"I'm getting to that. Then I remembered that I'd used ACORN to poison you. Blowhole would naturally assume the Squirrels had killed you. Exactly the kind of incentive he'd need to turn on the Squirrels. So, by pulling a few strings, and spreading rumours that the ACORN had been mixed with a contagious virus, managed to have you declared dead and buried all within a day."

Blowhole was ready to call an all-out Maguffium war on his new allies, yet there was one small nagging detail that prevented him from believing the seemingly obvious results. He remembered what Kowalski had said before he'd died.

"I don't have much time…"

"Skipper's lost it…"

Kowalski had also been consistently looking over his shoulder as if he was being followed. There was obviously something strange going on.

"Red one!" Blowhole shouted. Immediately the crustacean approached.

"Yes Dr?"

"Run a trace on the chemical marker in this sample." He ordered.

A few minutes later the lobster returned.

"It's batch 4527 from your Delaware plant." The lobster reported, returning the sample.

"Was this batch stolen?"

"No sir."

"Who was this particular sample sent to?"

"Agent Fred."

"The Agent who, out of pure stupidity, walked directly into the Penguin HQ and asked which one was Skipper and if he could set up hidden microphones?"

"Yes, Dr Blowhole, he was captured by Skipper at about ten o'clock Tuesday morning. The samples were then transferred to Rockgut's office at five o'clock that afternoon. Evidently Fred had managed to use half a bottle of the toxin before he was captured, even though head office sent him no targets…"

The lobster was interrupted as Blowhole's flipper angrily swept the contents of the table to the floor, glass shattering and multi coloured liquids swirling about on the floor.

"I knew Skipper was obsessed with capturing me," Blowhole thought aloud angrily, "but to murder your own lieutenant…"

1 From the episode Work Order