BEHOLD MY FASTEST UPDATE FOR THIS STORY EVER!!!!!!! Anyway, I put alot of work into this. I hope you like this chapter as much as I liked writing it!!!!ENJOY MY FAIR READERS! ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I'm not profiting from this story at all. The Penguins of Madagascar belongs to nickelodieon, Dream works, and Tom McGrath
The train lurched forward towards upper Manhattan. Skipper, unlike the rest of his team, did not sit down on the train. It had been a week since his meeting with Katrina and he didn't even want to think about it. Kowalski was finally well enough to work, his arm out of the sling, but he still couldn't lift his arm over his head. Sitting next to Kowalski was Private. Although he was quite used to the concept of underground trains, growing up in the London area and all, he was afraid of the train stopping unexpectedly. He wasn't too keen on the idea of being stuck underground in a cramped tunnel. Rico sat next to young Private, completely at ease. Before Rico had enlisted in the Marines he had worked on the subway lines, blasting rock away under the city to make room for new tracks, he was used to being in cramped areas dark areas. Skipper stood on edge next to them, staring dead ahead, focused on the task at hand.
"181st and Fort Washington," The intercom speaker said loudly rousing the boys from the running trance of the subway.
"This is our stop," Skipper said getting off the train, the boys followed in suit. They ascended the staircase to the grimy street. The near empty street was lit by a few faulty street lamps. This was farther north than most of the team had been; it was in better condition than most of New York, but it was still no gleaming utopia of Atlantis or anything like that. The streets were still covered in filth, not too much social trash, but dirty none the less. Skipper followed the exact directions that Max had given him and eventually found the door in the ally way. Just as they were approaching the door a stray cat knocked over a trash can, sending Private into a paranoid frenzy hiding behind Rico.
"Uh, If it's all the same Skipper, I don't think we should be here right now," the boy said in a timid voice.
"Nonsense, we signed onto this case and we're going to finish it." Rico pushed Private in front of him towards Skipper, "Don't tell me you're scared, Private." Rico chuckled at Private.
"What? Scared? No, I'm not scared, just um…. Nervous?" Private said fiddling with the hem of his coat.
"Private, there's nothing to worry about, it's perfectly safe. Right, Skipper?" Just then Skipper opened the door to a room of cigarette smoke and loud cheers. As the boys walked in they noticed a boxing ring set up in the middle of the room. Young men were cheering both opponents until one of them was socked in the face so hard that he was sent hurdling back against the ropes and began to cough up blood.
"Does that answer your question?" All of the blood drained from Private's face. Skipper looked around and saw a foreman taking bets on the fight as it was going on. Skipper walked up to him.
"Bets! Place yo bets here!" the man yelled, his thick accent pinned him to be from the lower Manhattan, Jew town.
"Hey, are you the guy that I talk to to get in touch with Bada and Bing?" The man looked over interested.
"You wanna talk to da bosses, den you talk to me. I can get you in touch with them, for a price," The man said slyly.
"And you are?" Kowalski asked finally catching up with Skipper
"Archie, dats all you need to know for now."
"How much?" Skipper asked
"Twenty five," That was a lot just for a conversation, but at this point Skipper just wanted to wrap up this whole case. He reached in his coat pocket for his wallet when Archie stopped him, "And you gotta win a fight."
"Against who?" Skipper asked as bravely as he could. Just then a voice came over the intercom.
"And once again our champion! RAIGING RHINO REGGIE!" The announcer held the champion's hand up. He was just about as big as Bada and Bing, overly muscled and perpetually terrifying. Just as the name was announced a swarm of people gravitated toward Archie, who started handing out winnings to people and pocketed the losses.
"Beat him, and I'll get you in with da bosses, that is unless you don't catch their eye before you get your skull squished." Skipper turned to Rico, who was arguably the best fighter on the team and perfect for this job.
"Alright Rico, all you need to do is-" Archie stopped him
"You miss understand my friend," he said with an evil grin on his face, "You gotta fight him. Talk about no help from your little team here." Skipper looked at the champion again and then back at Archie.
"Agreed, no help from the team." He shook hands with Archie in agreement.
"Now is there anyone else out there who is willing to challenge our champion!?" The announcer screamed into the intercom. His challenge was met with several moments of dead silence.
"I'll do it," Skipper said, still standing next to Archie. A response of hushed whispers of surprise and sounds of pity emanated from the room like gas. The crowd of people parted as Skipper and the team approached the ring. Reggie laughed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," He said through a fit of laughs, "This guy? He's a shrimp!" indeed, next to Reggie, Skipper was considerably shorter. Skipper removed his coat and button up shirt for the fight, ignoring the jeers from the champion and a few from the crowd as well.
"Skipper, this whole thing is ridiculous!" Kowalski said in a hushed whisper
"It's suicide!" Private warned.
"Yup," Rico said in agreement.
"Boys, I've taken down three Nazis with a broken leg and no ammunition, I think I can handle myself!" Skipper retorted throwing his shirt in Kowalski's face, "Besides, we need to talk with Bada and Bing and if this is the fastest way to do it then I'm all for it." Skipper stood up to face his menacing opponent. The announcer called them both to the center of the ring.
"Shake hands," He said to them. Reggie extended his hand, but removed it quickly just as Skipper was about to shake it. He laughed.
"This won't take long," Reggie laughed, turning to go back to his corner. Skipper hesitated, watching his opponent walk. Then he returned to his corner, planning out his strategy the whole way back.
Quick left jab under left ear, broken jab; Palm stomach, three broken ribs at least; discombobulate head, disorient him; leg swipe, further damage to right leg where there is limp; while he's getting up grab arm to throw him off balance; deliver final blow out of ring.
Skipper turned around to face his opponent one final time before the bell rang. With a loud clang of the bell the fight began. Reggie charged at Skipper ready to punch the living daylights out of him. Skipper quickly avoided the first punch thrown to his face but wasn't quick enough to see the one coming to his stomach. Skipper faltered a bit.
"What's the matter, Pipsqueak, can't throw a punch?" This added new fire to Skipper's original fight plan and without hesitation he put it into action. Skipper threw a jab under Reggie's ear, hearing the jaw bone shatter; Reggie clenched his eyes in pain. As he went to touch his face Skipper took the moment do deliver a palm thrust to Reggie's stomach, causing three lower rib bones to break. While Reggie began to cripple over in pain Skipper clapped both his hands on either side of Reggie's head, completely disorienting the man. His balance was already off so it didn't take too much to deliver a final leg swipe to bring the giant man down.
'What's the matter, gigantor, can't take a little pain?" Reggie attempted to get up, his sight blinded by pain. Just as he made a jab at Skipper, the ex-marine grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his opponent, throwing him off balance. One final kick to his back sent the once undefeated champion through the ropes into the crowd. Right before the very eyes of the spectators, the fight was over and Skipper had emerged victorious. A few moments of dead silence were soon followed by loud whoops of boisterous applause. The announcer grabbed Skipper's hand and thrust it into the air.
"OUR NEW CHAMPION!" He screamed into the microphone. Skipper tore his hand away and exited the ring. He hopped through the ropes down to his team. Just as he was buttoning up his shirt he felt a tap on his back. As Skipper turned around he came face to face with Archie, who was smiling a jester's smile.
"Congratulations, man!" He said shaking Skipper's hand with fake glee. Skipper knew that when the bets had been made who ever had bet on him had won a crap load of money and completely depleted Archie's 'income' supply. Archie glanced behind him and then back at Skipper, "uh, where's that twenty five you promised me?" Skipper took his wallet out of his coat pocket and pulled out the money, slapping it in Archie's hand but not letting go.
"You keep up your end of the deal." Archie nodded.
"I was just coming down here to tell ya that the bosses would like to see you," He said quickly pocketing the money, "Follow me," Skipper slipped on his overcoat and followed Archie up a flight of stairs to a back room. He opened the door and allowed the team to walk in ahead of them, "Here's the guys you wanted to see." Archie said quickly before shutting the door; leaving Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and Private standing in the room alone.
The room itself was of relatively good size. A book case stood to their left filled with liquor bottles. A large poker table, doubling as a work desk, was situated not far from it. Against the back wall was a large window overlooking the ring. One large man was leaning against it watching every movement of the people scattering about below them. Another man was at the book case pulling down a bottle of what looked to be wine.
"What's your name?" The man against the window asked, not turning around.
"James Blake, this is my team."
"And their names?"
"Eli Kowalski, Rico Flintlock, and Peter Barry." Skipper said unfazed by the giants in the room.
"What exactly is your business here Mr. Blake?" The man against the window turned around to face them. From the light of the dim room and from what Skipper could see, the man that had been talking to them was Bada. His low voice also helped to give away just exactly who he was.
"Just wandering up here, wanted to see what all the fuss was about this place."
"Just wanderin? Dat don't seem very likely," The other man, Bing, said turning around from the book shelf with a bottle of Liquor.
"Won't cha's sit down?" Bada said trying to sound polite, but it just came out menacing. Skipper and the team hesitated.
"We don't bite, Mistah Blake," Bing said opening the bottle, "Wes wanna congratulate you on beating our champion." Skipper and the rest of the team sat down cautiously. Bing poured six glasses of what now looked to be wine and handed one glass to each of them.
"So what is your real purpose being here?" Bada said sitting down next to Skipper. Skipper glanced at Private and Kowalski, who were sitting next to each other. Just as Private was about to answer Kowalski placed a hand over his mouth to keep him from spilling the reason. Skipper hesitated, he hated to be so forward about things, but this was necessary.
"We're here investigating a murder."
"Murder? Are yous da guys who put Anderson away?" Skipper nodded.
"We run a modest boxing ring here Mistah Blake," Bing said taking a sip of the wine, "We don't want no trouble."
"Double negative," Kowalski said quietly, Skipper shushed him.
"And we sure as hell didn't kill anybody." Bada added.
"We have reason to be suspicious of everyone involved with our victim and you guys are the last suspects."
"Mistah Blake wes swear, we didn't hurt no body." Bing said with a hint of desperation.
"Who's did you say was da victim?" Bada asked.
"One of your regulars, Vincent Riatonni."
"Mad Rat kicked the bucket?" Bing said with surprise.
"More like he had his bucket kicked for him." Kowalski stated.
"We have interrogated those close to Mr. Riatonni and have discovered that he spent a lot of time here. Robbed you fine gentlemen of some money."
"So you tink we killed him? Just because of some little money scam that happened eight years ago?" Skipper's mind went blank.
"Wait, how long ago did you say it was?"
"Eight years. He weaseled some money outta a bet, caused his gang and another gang to be in undeclared war for quite some time." Bing started.
"Never quite got outta hand before though." Bada finished.
"Why not?" Kowalski asked.
"You kiddin? Mad Rat's gang is the toughest there is!" Bada commented taking another sip of wine.
"Even if he did weasel us outta some money, der's no way dat that anyone could do anything 'bout it."
"On an, oh shall we say, average, how much do you boys make per fight?" Kowalski asked. Bada and Bing looked at eachother.
"Oh probably 'bout tree thousand," Bing said scratching the back of his neck.
"Per fight," Bada added.
"Uh huh, and how many fights do you say you have per week?"
"'bout twenty." Bada said taking another sip of his wine.
"Skipper," Kowalski said in a hushed voice, "That's sixty thousand a week, that's two-hundred forty thousand a month!"
"How much, if you can remember, did Riatonni take from you guys?" Skipper asked.
"Ten thousand," Bada said, remembering it like it was yesterday. Private choked on the wine he was drinking.
"Ten thousand?!" he said wiping his chin
"Small price to pay for us but no harm done." Bing said. Skipper thought for a while.
"You on the other hand," Bada said pointing at Skipper, "You cost us a lot tonight. We lost a lot of money thanks to your little fight."
"My apologies then, I did not mean to deplete your money supply."
"eh, we'll make it up." Bing said, instigating a look of surprise from his brother, "Have you ever considered joining the boxing circuit? Pays a lot of money. . ."
"No thank you," Skipper said, "I've done enough fighting in four years to last me a life time. Besides I already got a job." Bing leaned back in his chair.
"Well if you do needs anything, come and talk to us Mistah Blake." Bing elbowed his brother in the stomach
"We'd be happy to help," Bada said with forced politeness.
"Thank you for the wine and conversation, gentlemen, but we better be going now." Skipper stood up with his team and walked to the door, down the flight of stairs and out the way they came in.
The cold air was quite a shock to the boys. Private shuddered at the night air.
"What on earth was that?!" Private said surprised, "I've never known you to walk away from a suspect like that!" Skipper didn't look at Private.
"They didn't do it." Skipper said thinking.
"Oh really? How on earth do you know?" Private said trying to pull his coat tighter around him.
"Private, one more snap like that and I'll consider it insubordination, understood?" Private looked down at his feet.
"Understood, Skippah."
"There's no way that Mad Rat took enough money from those guys to actually make an impact. And after eight years, Riatonni would have been dead long ago if they held a grudge."
"He took ten thousand from them!" Private said surprised, "How is that not a lot?"
"Private look at the statistics," Kowalski said doing the math in his head, "In less than a month Bada and Bing could make up all of that stolen money plus some." Kowalski looked at Skipper, "But, Private does have a point, if Bada and Bing weren't the killers, then who was?" Skipper paused.
"I'm not sure. We're going to have to go back over the evidence, all of it. Rethink our strategy, there must have been something that we missed." Skipper looked at his watch and then turned around to face the boys, "Be at the office first thing tomorrow morning." The boys nodded. Rico pointed at Skipper.
"Home?" Skipper shook his head again.
"No, I forgot my house key back at the office."
"And then are you going home?" Private asked, Skipper nodded his head.
"Why are you so concerned with me getting home? I know you want Marlene to be safe but-" Private looked down at the ground as if he had something to hide, "Private?" Private did not answer, "Private, would you tell me what wrong?" Private paused for a long time and then took a deep breath.
"I um, called Marlene the other night, when you stayed late at the office. She seemed a bit worried about you. About, oh dear how do I put this, about your relationship?" Private offered.
"She thinks I'm cheating on her?" Skipper said, slightly outraged. His mind made a quick flash to when Katrina had kissed him.
"No, I- I never said that. . ."
"But you implied it."
"I told her she was being silly! But, as your friend, if you do truly care about Marlene you'll be home on time."
"Since when did you have clearance to give me a curfew?" Skipper said slightly hurt.
"Since-" Private sighed in defeat, "Since I care about you and Marlene and I don't want to see either of you getting hurt." Skipper nodded.
"Alright, Private," He said placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'll be home on time."
Skipper got out of the taxi cab in front of the office. He looked up at the building.
"Why on earth would Private be concerned about that? Why should I be concerned?" He started up the stairs, still talking to himself, "That was one slip up! And they don't know about it. As long as she stays out of my head I should be fine." Just as he walked into the office and turned on the light, much to his dismay, he saw Katrina herself sitting on his desk.
"Looking for these?" She said twirling Skipper's house keys around her finger. Skipper didn't say anything for a while, he just looked at her. Her coat had been hung on the back of his chair. Her silver heels, the same ones she had walked in here the first time with, dangled from her feet like diamonds. Her short sleeved button up blouse was partially undone. Her skirt was far too short to be decent for this weather and was riding up to show off her legs. Skipper walked up to her and held out his hand.
"Give me my keys and get out," He said looking her dead in the eyes. She laughed.
"Oh Mr. Blake, you're stressed again." She said her eyes glazed over with lust, "Do you need me to help you with that?" Skipper made a grab for her keys, but she quickly moved them out of his reach.
"I want you to give me my keys and get the hell out of my office."
"But it's my right to be here." She moved the keys again after another failed grab attempt.
"As a concerned widow, yes. As a tempting vixen, no."
"So you do think I'm a vixen?" Skipper mentally slapped himself.
"Just give me my keys!" He said trying to grab them, accidentally knocking Katrina onto her back on top of the desk. He finally grabbed the keys when he noticed what position he had put himself in. He didn't move a muscle. Katrina laughed and then whispered into his ear.
"Oh now look at what you've done Mr. Blake," She kissed his cheek, "You're fiancé is obviously making you stressed, I can help you," She kissed his jaw, "Just give in." Without thinking about the reciprocation of his actions, Skipper kissed her, hard. Katrina smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her up off her back, still having her sit on the desk. Katrina ran her tongue over Skipper's lip, begging for entrance, he complied. Katrina slipped his coat off his shoulders and undid the first button on his shirt.
Skipper's mind was blank, for the first time in months he did not think. In the back of his head a small voice was yelling at him, but it was so masked by pent up lust that he did not hear it. Nor did he hear the gasp of horror that came from Marlene when she saw what was happening right before her very eyes. Marlene ran down the stairs and called a cab to take her home, away from this terrible enlightenment. She could not help but cry.
*In Form of the batman theme song* DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA, DRAMA MAN! lol I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! Who do you think murdered Riatonni!?!? HMMMM?????? R&R! Reviews make me quite happy inside
