Chapter 4

His fingers were kneading into his shoulder, face contorted in discomfort and eyes still scouring the paper in front of him. His shoulder was aching again, the stiffness coming back with a vengeance and it was making it hard to concentrate. All he could focus on was the itchiness of his shirt against his skin and the heavy weight of his jacket stopping the dig and swivel of his fingers from reaching the muscle where he needed it.

He sighed heavily and put the pen down, leaning back in his chair and tipping his head towards the ceiling. The warm afternoon light was soothing, filtering in through the sheer curtains and providing haze to the room that he enjoyed. His fingers rubbed against something that relieved the ache and his eyelids fluttered shut with a contented sound.

The knocks broke him out of his reverie and he sighed, rolling his shoulder and picking up his pen again. "Enter."

A young woman sauntered in through the heavy oak door, little black heels clicking against the floor and a stack of files held securely in the crook of her left elbow. "I dug up the files you requested," She said, pausing in front of his desk to rifle through the folders and papers. "They were buried pretty deep but I found them."

"Of course you did Izzy." He smiled. "What else would I keep you around for?"

She laughed and started laying out the files on the expanse of mahogany available to her. "You don't keep me around, the board does because who else are you going to let boss you around?"

He snorted and lent forward to pick up the closest sheet of paper. "Well it's hard to say no to a pretty face like yours." Something in his shoulder twinged and he grimaced, hand curling up on impulse to try and ease the pain. The young woman frowned, smile falling and eyes edging up in the corners. "Sir? Is it your shoulder again?"

He pulled his hand away sharply, trying not to look guilty. "My shoulder? No, thats been fine."

Izzy sighed and shook her head. "Stratford, with all respect if you expect me to buy that you must take me for an idiot."

"Fine. It's been hurting a little," He saw her eyes go wide and he held up and finger sternly, "Now wait a minute, It's been hurting a little, just a little. Nothing major."

She placed the files down and put her hands on her hips, cocking an eyebrow and smirking at him. "Thats probably what you said when you broke it. I'm booking you into see the physician tomorrow."

Stratford shook his head and huffed. "How I get any work done with you mothering me all the time I'm still not sure."

"Well one of us has to look out for your health, and you're not going to do it now are you?"

"Young Lady I am old enough to be your father!"

Izzy laughed again, "And you have the bones to prove it." she teased. "Please, please, please let me book you into see the physician? For my peace of mind?"

He chuckled and relented. "Fine, only because it's you, and because I can't have you spending all your time worrying about some old coot."

She smiled, faintly red lips quirking up and eyes crinkling in the corners. "You mean because I'm your favourite."

"Shh," He urged, "Don't let the board hear, they don't like me to have nice things."

She gathered up the last of her files and tucked them neatly into her elbow, brushing her neatly curled hair away from her face with a shake of her head. "I'll make sure not too. Who knows what kind of mischief you'd get up to if I wasn't here? You might go Gallivanting off like your Brother and we won't hear from you for a year."

The door clicked loudly behind her as she left, the clicking of her heels replaced by the suddenly too loud ticking of the clock. His eyes were cast down at his desk, looking at the paperwork he still had to fill out, but not really seeing it. He bit the inside of his cheek and rubbed his temple.

It wasn't unlike his brother to suddenly vanish. But usually he'd get something. At the least a postcard from some far off country with a hastily scribbled and cryptic message scrawled onto the back, or a letter written on a sheet of newspaper with articles circled and passages underlined with his wild scrawl filling out the margins. This time he hadn't received anything. No message of where he was, or what he was doing, or how he was and the longer it went on for the more the guilt and worry in his stomach would grow and fester.

He used to see him at the minimum, once a year. He'd walk into his office and he would be sprawled out in a chair sipping a cup of tea and scanning the newspaper with idle eyes, always ready with a 'now did you hear about this…?' from one of the headlines for when he walked in. They'd discuss how he was being reckless again, he'd get called a boring desk monkey to which he would throw a pen, and then he'd launch into the story of his latest escapade.

He was beginning to doubt he would see him again. His invulnerable brother, who lived neck deep in danger and loved every second of it just might have gone in over his head.

His nails were pressing hard into his shoulder, and he could feel them through his suit jacket, digging grooves into his skin to try and stop the ache. He pulled the lowest draw in his desk open and lifted out the picture frame inside. the wood was cool against his fingers and he stared it down from behind the safety of his desk. His brother smiled out at him, smirking arrogantly into the camera with dark blue eyes, hair pulled back and ruffled like he'd just been in a brawl and stubble growing along his jaw and chin.

His eyes wandered, and landed on the other figure in the picture.

There wasn't so much worry there. For them, no news would always be good news. He knew they were safe, absolutely safe, and that if anything happened to them he would be the first to hear about it.

the draw shut silently, and the only sound was the scratching of his pen and the insistent sound of fingers on fabric.

Skipper had stopped screaming, Private asking him questions in hushed, frightened whispers that Kowalski didn't have time to try and decipher. Rico wasn't growling, stood straight now as opposed to leaning on the balls of his feet with his back hunched, and his eyes were focused and searching. Hans kept his eyes locked on Kowalski's, almost pleading for some sort of answer.

"How do you know about those?" He asked, choking on the sentence when he started it, and voice quaking the whole way through. His head felt like a box someone had tried to over-pack, litters and scraps of information, ideas, questions, facts - all crammed into every spare inch of space between his ears.

Hans shook his head, blinking furiously. "I - I get them too, just wherever they happen to show up."

"Shut up."

Kowalski whipped around, backing up to make room for skipper as he stumbled to his feet. His head was hung low, eyes clouded and body practically vibrating with something that was bubbling just below the surface. "Shut up." He hissed again, voice slurred in places and too sharp in others. His flippers were balled into fists and Kowalski could see the feathers spiking outwards all over his body in a way that looked sharp to the touch.

Hans stepped forward, and almost on autopilot Rico stepped back to make room, eyes locked firmly on their leader as he staggered to a halt. "What did you see?" He asked, voice quaking.

"See?" Kowalski asked, voice loud and sharp.

"See, what did he see." Hans said. "You always see something. What did you see?"

"See?" Kowalski echoed, expression drawn into one of confusion. What did that even mean? He was sure that the headaches never corresponded with any kind of visual stimuli, unless you counted the blinding whiteness of extreme pain. Even in the aftermath-

His jaw parted absently. "Oh." He murmured, breath leaving him in a rush. "Oh I see…"

Teal eyes, half lidded and warm. Lashes thick and heavy over the sclera, iris and pupil. Creases from smiling forming subtle rivets in the corners. Eyes he had seen the moment before he had jerked awake in pain. Eyes that had stuck with him so prominently and in such clarity and detail that it was as unusual as remembering the exact features of a girl you saw in a dream with a scared face and a gun.

He could almost feel how wide his eyes were behind his clouded and unfocused vision. "They're connected." He breathed.

And he could see it, the spiderweb of jagged pieces that didn't sit right together being strung into place to form a picture he couldn't see before. It felt like scratching an itch. Satisfying, yet you just want to scratch more.

What else was there to scratch?

He was so busy thinking he missed the moment Skipper lunged. One minute he was heaving out loud, angry breaths and the next he had Hans by the throat, pushing him into the ground and growling something no one else in the room could hear. No one moved until he slammed his head into the concrete, the sound a sickening cracking sound drowned out only by the Puffin crying out.

Private darted forward, flippers ready to try and haul Skipper off. He didn't get to before Hans was flipping them over, slamming Skipper into the wall and kicking him in the gut as he did. They were both on their feet and back trying to land blows before Kowalski had even finished understanding what was happening.

Rico managed to get behind Hans, kicking his feet out from under him and driving him into the ground again. Private managed to get a flipper around Skippers throat, yanking him backwards and away from the Puffin now spitting onto the concrete. "Going to go down that easy Skipper?" He mocked, wing coming up to wipe the blood from the corner of his beak. Rico hit him hard in the back and he went down again, snarling at him in warning. Private lashed out and caught Skippers flipper and pulled him back again.

"Skipper!" He shouted, trying desperately to pull him back. "Stop! Please, stop!"

Kowalski was unused to the look in his leader's eyes, because it wasn't one he had seen before. They were burning effervescent blue with delirious rage, unfocused and at the same time fixed on the Puffin like a heat seeking missile. Skipper may have run the rookery with a 'talk first, ask questions later' policy, but the sound of Han's head connecting with the concrete was too loud - too raw in his mind. It was playing on repeat like a morbid song he couldn't shake. The violence in that move wasn't Skipper, it was something else. Something dangerous.

"Rico get him out of here." He said, fixing the weapons expert a cold look, one that demanded compliance rather than requesting it. The nod he got back was accompanied by a blank look and then Rico was hauling Hans to his feet and shoving him towards the exit.

Private had one of Skippers flippers gripped tightly, holding him back as much as he would be able to. He looked frightened and Kowalski couldn't say he blamed him in a situation like this. Rico was snarling again, now having one of Hans Wings twisted behind his back in a way that he could pop out his shoulder with a twitch if he wanted too and continued to force him towards the exit.

"I Have to apologise for this Skipper." Kowalski said as calmly as he could manage, then swung a flipper hard and slapped his superior hard across the face.

He expected the punch he got back, the heavy hit knocking him back to the sound of Private almost shrieking. The impact stung and burned slightly, and he groaned reflexively and covered his eye with his Flippers, applying pressure to try and stop the throbbing.

The fire was gone. As suddenly as it had started blistering his eyes it was gone, concern and panic filling the space it left. "Kowalski?" Skipper asked, shaking his way out of Private's grip. "Soldier, are you ok? I'm sorry I didn-"

Kowalski shook his head and stumbled to his feet. "Don't. You're back aren't you? I knew that was coming." He forced his flippers away from the tender area, attempting to stop his beak from clenching. "What happened there? It was…" He grappled for the words momentarily. "Unusual."

The Concern vanished and the rage returned. It was so cold. If He had to name it he would have called it bloodlust. There was something savage shifting just under the surface, waiting on a hairpin trigger to burst forth in a frenzy of dangerous energy. "What did you see." He asked, voice too loud in the silence that had crept up on them.

Skipper faltered, and his eyes narrowed. "Nothing."

"You're lying." Kowalski stated back, tone clipped and terse. "What did you see?"

"What does it matter?" He snapped. His feathers were still ruffled from the fight, messy and sticking up at odd angles that only increased as they started to rise again.

Kowalski fought down the growl. "Because someone is tampering with our heads Skipper! I'm so damn stupid I didn't see it before but it' all right there and it makes sense now." His eye protested when his flipper connected with his forehead and he swore he saw Private flinch out of the corner of his eyes, but couldn't help but disregard it under the onslaught of information that was stringing together as he spoke. "Thats what the headaches are about, it's all something that has been done to our synapses, something blocking the electrical transmissions, or creating new ones, I'm not sure which. Either way we are getting the headaches because however it's being done it's detrimental to us! That, if not the fact someone is forcing us to see things seems to be enough reason for serious concern!"

"You've lost it." Skipper snapped, turning away, flippers coiling back into fists. "They're just Headaches Kowalski, there is nothing more to it than that!"

"It's not and you know it! Something is wrong Skipper! And while you might be able to convince yourself that this is normal I refuse to buy into it."

"Stand down soldier." Skipper warned, words dripping in unsaid threats and ringing with authority.

"Since when do headaches make you see things Skipper? Since when do they make you see things in such clarity that you have never seen before?" He hadn't even noticed he had moved, and as Skipper snarled and shook his flipper off his shoulder, Kowalski only came back with two. "Believe me I wish I wasn't something this dark but this is the most likely answer at this point. The reason we see things, the reason it's hurts, none of it is us. It's someone else." He was grappling for the words. for the right way to explain the thoughts spinning in his head. "Someone… someone has control over us, and we don't even know who. And you want me to stand down!?"

Skipper and Private looked stunned, Private actually having a flipper up over his beak like he was feeling slightly nauseous. "That's why I have to know. Because at this point the only way we are going to be able to figure out who it is, is by looking at what they're trying to make us see and at what has been done to our heads."

His heavy breathing sounded too loud in his ears and for a moment he wondered if he was going to have another panic attack. It didn't feel that way though, of all the conflicting emotions that were clawing and squirming inside him the largest almost felt like calm. And he could understand why it was, despite everything that had happened that night. At least it all made sense now, at least the pieces were coming together. "So thats why I want to know. What did you see."

Skipper swallowed, and his gaze shifted. Just for a fraction of a second, and then it was back staring at Kowalski with a mellowed expression. "I saw a forest. It was on fire." He said finally. "I… I just felt angry."

"Is that why you attacked Hans, Skipper?" Private asked tentatively, finally releasing his grip on Skipper's flipper.

"I - ugh." His head went into his flippers and he sat down heavily. "It's… yes I guess so. I don't know. Give me something Kowalski, how bad is this and how bad is it going to get?"

He swallowed heavily and shrugged. "I'm… I'm not really sure sir. We should probably run tests in the morning to see if there is anything is wrong physically with our synapses. I'll be able to give you your answers then."

There was a moment of long silence. "Alright. First thing. All ongoing operations are suspended until we get this sorted. Rico, you catch all of this?"

He was standing by the ladder looking stunned with eyes as wide as saucers to match. he nodded slowly, eyes flickering from face to face as he did.

"Good." Skipper sighed, getting to his feet again and patting Private gently on the shoulder. "Beds. Now. We can deal with this with clear heads in the morning."

Kowalski didn't need to be told twice and clambered back up into his bed, heavily throwing his head down onto the pillow and curling up tightly like it would somehow stop the awful wriggling sensation in his stomach.

"Skipper that doesn't really seem like you. Usually you'd be telling us to get right on this! Shouldn't we be doing that?"

Kowalski perked up a bit and that brows furrowing and eyes opening again to glare at the side of his bunk. That was a very good point, why hadn't he thought of that?

"Because…" There was a long hesitant pause and Kowalski's brows furrowed further. "Because we're not going to be able to solve this overnight. And we need to be at our best when we get answers Private."

Kowalski wished he believed him. He could still see the flicker of his eyes before he said he saw a forest fire. The lights shut out and the base went dark but his eyes stayed fixed on the wall across from him despite that he could no longer see it.

He was lying. The thought was dark and tainted with something he didn't want to look to closely at. He didn't want to think about Skippers sketchy attitude this morning, like he knew something was going to go wrong.

He didn't want to think about how he had turned off the security system after he had done the patch job.

Because if he had turned it off then who had turned it on and why had they turned it on. Why reason would that person have to suspect something was going to happen tonight of all nights? Right when something had gone wrong and it had gone wrong in such a way that it included a Puffin talking about a special night.

He closed his eyes again and coiled his flippers up over his head. He really didn't want to think anymore.

Hi! Sorry this is a few hours late, tbh I'm utterly smashed

Right, this chapter was good fun to write and while I know it's short I feel like we've really kicked it into high gear now, and the stakes are only going to get higher from here.

Another appearance of Stratford! But who exactly is he? Who is Izzy? Who is this mysterious brother and what do they have to do with anything? All in good time I assure you ;)

I love Hans, he's such a fun character and this will not be the last we see of him I promise!

See you next week~
Peace!