Kowalski hated being knocked out. In fact, he hated it almost as much as he hated Julian's late night parties, which had almost the same effect on him. He looked down.
"Babbage's difference machine!" Kowalski exclaimed. He was chained to a missile. This wasn't exactly his favourite thing to wake up to, but it wasn't the most unusual. The four penguins were bound about half way up the missile at equal intervals, if it were a square each penguin would be on a different side. He surveyed the scene, which was harder to do without his option's clipboard, but he could do it.
Condition of fellow team members: Private: unconscious. Rico: conscious but not of sound mind, at least much more so than usual. Skipper: condition unknown (on opposite side of missile).
Restraints: Titanium alloy, extremely expensive, almost unbreakable.
Missile: very big, very scary. Most likely armed. No evidence as to what the warhead contains, though design is consistent with nuclear.
Hostiles: 32 detected. All lobsters. Henchmen not consistent with any known enemy's MO.
Personal Emotional state: Heartbroken.
Conclusion: Enemy unknown. Obviously set up by Doris, so it can be concluded that the two are working together. Unknown enemy probably intends to fire the missile, along with us, at a location in penguin territory. It can be assumed that the target is the penguins as no one but the squirrels would have motive to capture us, nor the resources to purchase or build the missile and titanium restraints.
Kowalski considered these conclusions coming up with several options for escape, which he promptly whispered to private to pass on to his leader. After a few seconds Private returned with the reply. Kowalski put his plan into action.
"Excuse me, ant-like creature," Kowalski shouted down at the crustaceans, "I don't suppose you would be able to tell me which not-so-mastermind has devised this trap from which I can escape in but a matter of seconds?" One of the lobsters looked up.
"Wouldn't you like to know." He replied, obviously provoked by this attack at his master's scheming capability.
"Let me guess, he's going to either make some ridiculous demands, "paint all buildings in lunicorn colours or I'll fire this missile at your capital", or he's just going to fire the missile, in which case, he's crazy." Immediately the lobster began to march up the metal framework of stairs and platforms that surrounded the missile like a grape vine. Kowalski's plan, so far, was working. Finally the lobster reached the platform below him, that had obviously been used to attain the height necessary to attach them in their current position.
"He's not crazy," the lobster growled. Kowalski could see the keys dangling from the lobster's keychain. All he had to do was keep his attention long enough for him to take them without the lobster noticing.
"Listen, gullible fool, I've fought a lot of 'I'm not mad, I'm just power hungry' self-styled geniuses in my time. They all end up in the same place. Jail." The lobster glared at him.
"Shut up." The lobster shouted before punching Kowalski in the face, once again knocking him out. That wasn't part of Kowalski's plan.
"What's going on in there," a high pitched voice shouted, as he drove into the room.
"Well well well, if it isn't Dr Blowhole." Skipper greeted sarcastically as he watched his arch nemesis drive onto a platform located directly in front of his side of the missile.
"Yes, pen-gu-in. I'll bet you never realised, when you left me in that aquarium, just how formidable foe I'd become." Blowhole replied.
"What's the evil scheme this time? And how did you blackmail Doris into helping you?" Skipper asked.
"Blackmail Doris? She was happy to help. Did you think for one moment she truly loved you? Anyway, my scheme is simple. I fire the missile, you and your team included, at the Red Squirrel's base. Everyone dies. Multiple revenges with one stone."
"Let me guess, the motive is revenge. Well, Blowhole, it would seem you've made a tiny little mistake. I happened to have swallowed an edible tracking device before I started on this mission, because of the classified nature of the material I was carrying. If I'm not back at HQ before eight o'clock tonight, my superiors will assume I've been captured and retaliate appropriately. In other words, you're going to be raided in approximately," Skipper looked at the clock on the giant monitor below him, "half an hour." Blowhole smiled deviously.
"I don't think they will."
"You're bluffing."
"Shall we call them and find out?" Blowhole pressed button on his computer, and the screen changed to a video conferencing software, showing none other than Buck Rockgut and a full conference room full of various other senior officers. Skipper couldn't have been more surprised. Apart from the fact that Blowhole could simply contact Rockgut on a whim, which was surprising enough, the fact that he had actually called his superiors was practically asking to be arrested.
"Rockgut what the deep fried snow cones is going on?" Skipper shouted at the image of his superior officer on the screen.
"Cupcak…Skipper, I'm going to speak frankly. We aren't sending any reinforcements." Rockgut replied, in a voice, desperately trying to disguise just how much he like what he was saying.
"No reinforcements?" One of the other men at the table stepped forward. Skipper recognised him as General Carson. Damn.
"What he's trying to say is that you're an acceptable loss. Blowhole here is going to do what we can't, for diplomatic reasons," Carson told him, saying diplomatic with extra distain, "He's going to nuke those squirrels into their place. Unfortunately, he can't do that if he's been arrested, which is exactly what would have to happen if we sent reinforcements." Carson was enjoying this a bit too much. Skipper squeezed his eyes shut trying to comprehend what he had just been told. His own commanding officer, who'd been more like a father to him, just told him that they were going to let him and his team die for political reasons.
"That was just getting awkward," Blowhole pressed a button on the computer, ending the call, "Now, you have five minutes to live, so if you'd like to beg for mercy, now would be the time."
Once again Kowalski found himself awakening to a splitting headache. If he ever got out of this, he was going to kick that lobster from here to Antarctica.
"…five minutes left to live… beg for mercy…time," Kowalski was unable to see the speaker since he was shackled to the opposite side of the missile, still, the voice was familiar. Kowalski blinked. It couldn't be?
"Blowhole…?"
"Kowalski?"
