Chapter 8
Saying Mason and Phil had been super jazzed about the whole idea would be an outright lie. Playing interpreter as the only animals (really animal if you wanted to get into specifics) able to read wasn't a chore they necessarily liked being tasked with. Phil especially had been very adamant about not getting involved, offering a bared teeth snarl and burying his head in his newspaper with a flash of one handed signing.
Mason had sighed. "Really, there's no need for profanities."
Rico had looked down at his flippers and seemingly tried to recreate the motions. Thanks be to Charles Darwin and evolutionary theory for deciding to forego giving penguins fingers, the last thing Kowalski needed was Rico learning how to cuss in ASL.
It had taken a great deal of back and forth and eventually dissolved into plain old begging and bribery. He'd just gotten back into Skippers good books and messing this up would not help. Maybe something about him howling on his knees and throwing himself at the concrete had brokered pity, though honesty dictated he'd be wrong no not mention the increasingly absurd number of banana crates Rico was promising.
"FIFTY!" the resident psycho had shouted, waving his flippers desperately as Kowalski flopped over into the foetal position and continued sobbing.
A scientist that couldn't read. Why had nature besmirched him so?
Mason at least looked moved, or at the very least uncomfortable, with the increasing theatrics and had snatched the newspaper away and started muttering hurriedly as Phil signed back. Mason pointed down at the pair, and Phil shook his head. Phil signed something quickly back, and Mason tried to lightly smack his hand down to shut him up as he continued to make a case for the flightless birds.
They'd stopped at one point to both glance sharply down at the pair now intently observing in relative silence and Rico had immediately shouted "100!" while Kowalski just returned to his wailing.
Seemingly fed up Phil leapt from the tree down to the Zoo path and signed something directly in their faces, eyes scrunched in displeasure.
There was a moment where they all shared a look before Phil put his head back in a pantomime of reaching breaking point and screaming at the sky before turning back to Mason and repeating what he had said.
Mason nodded and dutifully translated. "15 crates and this is the last favour we do you this month." He sighed and idly flicked a rook over on the chessboard. "Phil is tired of reading the calorie information on the back of sardine tins."
Private had winged a little later when he had heard about that concession, but at least they had their translators in agreement.
Kowalski had informed Skipper and Private once they had returned from their dispute settlement with the former seemingly in the late stages of shock and the latter beaming happily and whistling cheerily.
Both Kowalski and Rico had shuddered. Consider that a bullet dodged. Neither of them wanted to be present for a meeting between the king of the lemurs and a pissed off otter and if Skippers glassy eyed countenance had anything to say about it, it had probably gone as horrifically as expected. 'Feelings' wasn't really a strong suit of their operation.
Nope, Kowalski had thought as he pointedly tuned out Private gleefully explaining how "role-play" had helped to solve whatever problem had arisen, Better to leave this to the professionals.
Around 12am that night they made their grand escape, if you could loosely define a 'great escape' as simply scaling the zoo wall and leaving. The Zoo had security cameras sure, but Kowalski had taken care of those a long time ago with a series of looped tapes showing all of the animals sound asleep in their habitats in varying weather, and they'd cracked Alice's passcode for the security alarms set up around the perimeter in almost the first week they had been stationed there with some simple surveillance and snooping.
Thankfully the street the police department was on was usually empty on weeknights, those choosing to be out and about usually choosing to do that a few blocks away from the home of New York's finest. Even then the city was still alive with sound and light, leaving them little choice but to cautiously duck between alleys and hide behind bus shelters and trashcans as the humans meandered past. It was harder with two civilians in tow, but Mason and Phil had become accustomed to avoiding prying eyes in the zoo and were generally held high in the rankings of animals you could trust to not be loose cannons out on the streets. Also very few of the humans they passed were actually paying attention or actively on the lookout for a pair of chimpanzees and a rookery of penguins which made things significantly easier. There was still a couple of double backs and close calls but for all intents and purposes it wasn't as difficult as it usually was during the day.
Much like the city itself the police station didn't seem to sleep either, but on a mundane Thursday night most of the officers had been slumped over at their desks either filling out paperwork or finding ways to entertain themselves. There was even one man lying flat on the floor playing paddle ball.
Or at least that's what Private had seen through the front window from where he was standing on Skippers shoulders, who in turn was standing on Rico's shoulders.
Skipper frowned and rubbed thoughtfully at the bottom of his beak as the pillar of penguins dismounted and ducked back into the shadows of the uncollected trash gathering on the stoop. "Front door is a no go if we want to remain unseen, and I'm not sure the vents in this place are sized for apes." It took him a moment but he did eventually add on a hasty but insincere, "No offence."
"None taken." Mason sighed as he rolled his eyes, expression given away by the headlights of a passing car puttering past.
"According to the floor-plan the records room is located on the east side of the building." Kowalski supplied. "We might be better off trying to jimmy a window open from the alleyway?"
"No dice. This place is bound to be locked up tighter than Guantanamo bay in Winter."
Private craned his neck back to look up the sheer side of the building. "We could send in a scout through the roof to open a window from the inside?" he offered. "They'd have to be small though…"
He seemed to understand the flaw in his own statement and his head snapped back to five pairs of eyes fixed in his direction. The smallest penguin shivered and wrapped his flippers around his middle. "Oh dear." He mumbled.
Skipper offered a light pat on the head. "Very good thinking there Private, that's the exact solution we're looking for." The faux saccharine sweetness of his tone only belied his underlying point.
"Does it have to be me Skipper?" He whined.
The Rookery leader shrugged. "You said Small Private, and we both know I'm way too tall to be considered small!"
Kowalski tried to share a furtive look with Rico, but he was currently halfway inside an opened trash-bag and happily rooting around inside. Looks like he was alone in the absurdity of that statement.
"Besides," Skipper continued, "Someone has to keep an eye out for our guests."
Mason and Phil declined to comment, Mason choosing to stare impassively and Phil, clearly bored, was peering out of their cover to watch the occasional car purposefully slow as they passed the building, only to resume speeding seconds later.
Rico exited the bag with a broken screwdriver bit in his flipper. "Ey!" He chirped, brandishing it proudly.
"You have a hoarding problem." Kowalski said.
Skipper had his head tilted to the side as he regarded the two chimpanzees. "Although speaking of our guests, climbing isn't really our strong suit…"
Mason groaned loudly, letting his arms flop until even his wrists pressed against the ground. "Oh you flightless birds." He muttered. "Fine! If it gets us out of here," He ducked down and patted his shoulder. "Come-on chap, let's hurry this show on the road."
With one last desperate glance at Skipper who only smiled brightly Private reluctantly clambered onto the chimps back, locking his flippers around his neck.
"You do know where you're going, right Private?" Kowalski asked.
The smallest penguin adjusted his grip and nodded grimly. "East side room with a window."
The darker chimp seemed to take that as invitation and leapt effortlessly onto the windowsill to climb up onto the overhang and begin making quick work of scaling the brickwork. "I can see why you're concerned about the sardines." He grunted, voice quickly fading as the pair disappeared up the darkened façade of the police station.
"You got this Private!" Skipper called up after him.
Kowalski peered up the side of the sheer building, but even squinting his eyes he could only just make out their shapes outlined ever so faintly by the dim light coming from the various windows. "Are you sure about that Skipper?"
He shrugged. "About 90%," He said. At the silence he looked around. "What? Those are pretty good odds!"
Rico had gone back to the bag and Kowalski sure a salmon wasn't going to be the one to give his commander the satisfaction. "Whatever." Skipper scoffed. "Come on men, we've got a infiltration point to locate!"
As it turned out the windows along the east side of the building were all small letterbox openings set high into the wall. The first two were frosted and more than likely looked into bathrooms so they focused on the third.
Rico released the brakes on one of the dumpsters pressed against the wall and together they rolled it under the window and climbed on top. The room they were peering into was relatively small, but the stacks of lattice pop up shelving filled with boxes seemed to point to its use. Skipper approached the edge of the dumpster and propped himself up onto his tippy-toes to sneak a glance at the room beyond the fourth window. "Interrogation room."
"We should be fine," Kowalski assured, "An evidence locker is statistically likely to be located near the records room."
"Speaking of records room," The voice came from above them and they all jumped with a start as Mason swung from a jutting brick down onto the dumpster, "You have yet to disclose just what in the dickens we are here to find exactly." The chimp brushed himself down brusquely, only to stop and sniff the air around him.
Skipper waved a flipper nonchalantly. "Just following up an old mission regarding the Hoboken Zoo. Making sure lady justice has run her course and all that."
Rico shifted his feet as Mason eyed him warily. "Naturally." He drawled. "Are you aware you smell like garbage?"
Phil lent over his shoulder to also get a whiff and quickly recoiled. Rico simply offered his broken Philips-head with a crooked, nervous smile.
They'd never spoken about it, but it made sense to avoid mentioning their lack of memories to any of the other animals at the Zoo, explaining Skipper's decision to skirt cautiously around the edges of the truth. It wouldn't do them any good to disclose such facts at this point, maintaining their aura of competence was far more important. Revealing the fact they hadn't noticed they were missing significant chunks of information about their lives wouldn't do anything to help them, and as a mostly peace keeping force it wouldn't serve them well long term. Also knowing the way their mammalian neighbours loved to stick their furry noses where they didn't belong it probably wouldn't help in the short term either. Better to let them live in ignorance.
"The Private's infiltration went smoothly I assume?" Skipper probed.
"Without a hitch, though I presume you believe that to be the easy part." Mason replied, attention caught as Phil quickly signed something to him. "Now don't be so negative, I'm quite sure they wouldn't throw a penguin in the holding cells."
Rico did smell faintly of trash he realised, but without the sensitive nose of a primate Kowalski was mostly unbothered. It wasn't exactly unusual anyway.
No, getting the chimps involved was already complicating this investigation and more paws certainly wouldn't help. And if the Hoboken branch of evidence bore fruit it wouldn't matter regardless. The only other animals aware of what went down was a rag-tag group of minor antagonists including a megalomaniacal lemur, a surprisingly pleasant chimp and a pathological puffin.
Hans hadn't returned since his impromptu visit a few night prior and even Skipper seemed to have put it out of his head, which was something of a relief. Although now he was finally thinking the Danish sea-bird he was beginning to recall some rather pertinent information.
Between the sudden outburst from Skipper and the discoveries made that next day he'd almost forgotten about it completely.
'you get those headaches too?'
At the time it had been a blinding worry, but in the ensuing commotion it had taken a quick backseat to issues much closer to home, like the realisation the images and headaches went hand in hand and all that had unfurled and complicated the matter since then. Which brought forward a rather interesting point Kowalski hadn't yet put together, after all if the headaches were caused by their unconscious mind running rampant in sleep and attempting to knock down mental barriers they usually ignored completely…
Kowalski cleared his throat. "Skipper?" The stocky penguin looked over and Kowalski discretely tipped his head, motioning towards the far edge of the dumpster and jumped down.
"What is it?" He questioned, dropping down beside him. The large waste bin shielded them from the road, but unfortunately also from the lights street side, leaving only the glow from the far above windows to light the gloom. The faint sound of rats scurrying down the darker end of the alley was making his skin crawl slightly.
"Do you remember much about our last altercation with Hans?"
Skipper seemed to think for a moment and then shrugged, the wispy light from above only breaking on the downward curve of his beak. "Not particularly. I was sort of dealing with a personal crisis at the time." There was a certain stoniness to his tone that Kowalski decided very quickly he was going to avoid. "Why? What's got you going all covert on this covert mission Kowalski? This isn't inception."
Kowalski shook his head and took a moment to make sure the chimps hadn't appeared behind them to listen in. "I think we might not be the only ones involved in the Hoboken affair that are missing memories." Skippers eyebrows shot up and he tripped over himself to try and explain as quickly and quietly as he could. "He asked about you while you were having your… uh… Personal Crisis, to use your terminology." And there was another worrying point he hadn't thought about, most of the headaches they had suffered up to this point had been in the aftermath of sleep, but that one incident was a notable stray from the mean. Skipper looked like he was about to try and speak again and Kowalski decided to stow that for further thought to keep them both on track. "He recognised it, and claimed to have been experiencing the same phenomena… in fact he was the first to put together that the headaches and the images they supplied went together."
Skipper frowned. "I thought you were the one to figure that out."
"I wish I had been, but up until that point I had been working on very limited amounts of data, and with the rest of you being rather un-forthcoming with information-" he defended, before recalling the point, "It doesn't matter, the point is what that implies."
"If the images are memories…" Skipper murmured
Kowalski nodded grimly. "Then Hans must also be missing memories in the same way we are." He finished.
Skipper didn't seem convinced. "How do we know that wasn't a ruse?" he asked. "He could have been spying and seen it."
He took a moment to consider it. It was a fair call to say the maniacal sea bird was somewhat obsessed with Skipper so the idea of him spying on them was altogether completely plausible… Also after their last bought of words it might not be a good look to shoot it down point blank. However he needed to be honest if they wanted to get anywhere at all. He shook his head. "I don't think so Skipper, if he had been watching us enough to gather those separate pieces of information, he still wouldn't have had the insight to put the two together, even I had yet to do that."`
The head commando slightly dipped his head to agree, and inwardly Kowalski sighed in relief. "It would be a stretch… I 'm just a little concerned you hadn't thought to raise this issue with me before now."
There was a certain tone in his voice that left Kowalski feeling like a hatchling being scolded by a parent and he ducked his head back into his shoulders as a pair of rats began to squeak furiously at each other in the background. "Ah yes…" He stammered. "Well the thing about that is… It's kind of a funny story really…"
Skipper hadn't blinked.
"I forgot about it, Ok!" He gushed, the word vomit spilling out uncontrollably. "Between the headache and the memories and the arch rival in our base it-"
"Slipped your mind?" Skipper asked with no amount of disapproval.
Kowalski could only nod sheepishly. So much for being in the good books.
Skipper sighed and pinched the top of his beak with a shadowed flipper. "that sounds awfully like the sort of important information someone would probably make a point not to forget."
"I know." He said mournfully. "It's just-"
Skipper held up a flipper and he stopped automatically. "It's nearly irrelevant now lieutenant. If this is the case the likely explanation would point towards Hoboken anyway, and we're already here looking into that." He propped his flippers up on his hips. "Which doesn't mean it would have been nice to be aware of when you were so intent on cutting every new idea off at the knee." The sharp kick to the pride hurt, but Kowalski couldn't necessarily say he was wrong. "Anything else you've suddenly remembered and would like to share with the group?"
Kowalski nudged an empty beer can with his toe. "You don't have to be so mean about it." He mumbled.
Thankfully the scolding was cut short. "Ey! It's Private!" Rico cheered.
Skipper looked up sharply and went to spring back up on top of the dumpster, but paused to give Kowalski one last look and poke him in the centre of the chest. "I want you to know I'm not mad, just disappointed."
Kowalski groaned, "Oh come on! Everyone knows that's worse!"
Private had indeed made it to the evidence locker in one piece, only looking rather dusty and a little shaken up for his troubles. He was standing unsteadily on a box and fumbling with the window latch by the time Kowalski had managed to find a vantage point through the crowd pressing in tight on the glass.
Skipper especially looked rather pleased. "Good work Solider!" From the other side of the glass Private offered a chuffed smile and moved onto the second latch. "And to think you Nancies didn't have faith in the Private."
Private shoved the window open with a jerky cracking sound, the pane shunting outwards as everyone took a step back to avoid being hit. "What do you mean 'didn't have faith in me?'" He asked, clearly offended, voice still slightly muffled by the glass.
Kowalski sighed. "You may have jumped the gun Sir." He manoeuvred himself under the window and lifted a flipper to wedge it in the opening and prove his point. "This gap is far too small for us all to fit through."
Rico sidled up next to him by the corner of the window and was inspecting the fully unfolded metal arms holding the window in its position.
From inside the building Private gasped. "Oh no! There's no way I can get back out through the vents, it was a sheer drop most of the way down!"
Skipper frowned. "Damn. Alright we might have to execute force her-"
"Hey!" Rico called, and all eyes turned to him as he once again lifted his broken screw-driver bit. Before anyone could smack the trash out of his flipper he turned back to the window and twisted his spine into a very uncomfortable position to wedge it up through the gap and slot the hardware into the screw holding the hinge of the bracketing window arms together. He looked back, smug as anything and began to dutifully unscrew the bolts.
Even Skipper seemed Surprised. "That works as well I guess. Though strange of you to turn down an opportunity to blow something up."
Rico looked up sharply, a wild unstable grin only just starting to form when Private wrenched the tool from his Flipper. "EY!" He snapped whipping around to try and face him only to be blocked by the pane of glass still in the way.
Private shook his head and continued where Rico had left off on the screw. "Absolutely not! These poor police officers don't need any more trouble on their plate!" He scolded.
Both Rico and Skipper looked a little put out at this and Kowalski could only roll his eyes and hold the window in place as the tension lessened in the screws and it began to sag back into place. If they wanted to get in and out of this place undetected, Rico and his pyromania was not the answer.
Soon enough the screws were undone and Phil held the window open at its new 90 degree angle to let everyone shimmy through before climbing in after them and letting it close behind him. The Evidence room was darker then outside and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust enough to pick out the edges of the overly packed shelving. Mason idly lifted the lid to one of the boxes, pulling out a sheet of paper and examining it. "So are we looking for a file of some kind?"
Phil had also reached into the box, but he had pulled out a plastic bag of something that looked suspiciously like icing sugar. Thankfully he seemed to catch on and dropped it just as quickly.
Skipper laughed, sliding down one of the posts to land on the floor. "No need, this is the 21st century Primate, everything's digital."
Mason shrugged and replaced the lid, leaping from the top shelf to the floor. "Well I'm certainly not going to complain."
When they cracked the door they could hear the muted clicking of fingers on keyboards and the rhythmic thudding of a rubber ball on a paddle from further down the hallway, but nothing to suggest the officers at work were even minutely aware of what has happening under their very noses. New York's finest indeed. There were signs helpfully stuck to every door and from the safety of the darkened room Phil was able to point out the records room across the brightly lit hall.
Skipper took the lead, sliding silently across the linoleum to press his earhole against the door before motioning for Rico who slid across next, leaping up to try the door knob. It rattled loudly but didn't budge and everyone froze simultaneously waiting for the jig to be up.
Thankfully the only change was a quiet, "Sanchez, did you get those arrest reports in?" from the bull pen. Rico adjusted his grip on the knob, planting his feet firmly against the door before attacking the lock with a paper clip. Private let out a panicked wheeze from behind his flippers, his shaking dislodging some of the dust on his feathers and leaving a faint grey ring where he was standing.
Finally the door opened with a soft click and the door swung inward without so much as a hinge creaking, taking Rico with it into the dark room. One final check and Private and Kowalski were hurrying across the unsecured area, herding the chimps with them into the safety of the office and letting Skipper shut the door behind them.
"Oh I didn't like that at all," Private gasped, doubling over to put his flippers on his knees. "I wouldn't do well in Prison!"
Skipper flicked the light switch on after a few short blinks meandered over to one of the many filing cabinets to inspect it. "I think you'd fare better than you think, though not for the reasons you're thinking." He offered.
Private only shivered. "I don't think I can pull off one of those tough guy bandanas."
Missing the point as usual Kowalski mused. The room was smaller than he was expecting, filing cabinets against every wall barring the space where a small desk was wedged with a single monitor and a battered looking computer chair. The bin underneath was almost overflowing with paper coffee cups and the stale scent they gave off was permeating the entire room.
Mason and Phil had already set up in front of the monitor, the screen blinking open to what appeared to be a search engine of some kind. "Hoboken Zoo, was it?" Mason asked.
Skipper flipped up onto the chair and shook his head. "Try Frances Alberta." He corrected. "She's the dame we're interested in."
Rico had perched himself on top of the filing cabinets, peering down at the desk only momentarily before tuning out and yanking open the top draw to begin rifling through it.
Phil dutifully typed on the keyboard, and the screen loaded slowly to a list of results.
From where he and Private were stood on guard by the door the smaller penguin sidled closer uneasily. "What do you think they'll find?" he whispered.
A good question. "Hopefully something to give us a lead." He replied, taking his eyes from where Mason was motioning Skipper up onto the desk as Phil continued to sign haltingly, face drawn in confusion. "Maybe a link to a covert group of individuals stealing memories from zoo animals? Or perhaps unethical Arctic researchers with a penchant for neuroscience."
Private cocked his head. "You think we came from Antarctica?"
Kowalski rolled his eyes. "Where do you think Penguins come from Private?"
The smallest bird shrugged, twiddling the tips of his flippers together. "I thought maybe from a nice zoo in Britain."
"It would explain the accent."
"Maybe Skipper would stop calling it phoney then." He muttered. "It's not! By the way."
"I believe you private. I sincerely doubt you could have kept up such an elaborate ruse for this long."
Private puffed his chest out and nodded sharply. "Thank you!" He said before pausing. "I think?"
Skippers sharp voice broke them out of their brief interlude, both turning to the desk again. "Are you sure?" he barked.
"Sure about what Skipper?" Private chimed in, taking a few steps across the black and white tile towards the group still huddled around the monitor. They all jumped, Mason even looking shiftily over his shoulder at the approaching Penguin. His eyes were troubled, and he quickly turned back to Skipper to mumble something Kowalski couldn't make out at this distance.
They'd found something, the worried look on Skippers face made that obvious. He nodded grimly at the chimpanzee and waved him off, turning his attention back to his men. "It's nothing Private, don't worry about it."
It was unconvincing at best, and an outright lie at worse. Kowalski was already moving towards the desk to be filled in on the situation when Skipper spoke again. "Kowalski, I need you and the men running a perimeter on this building."
Running a perimeter? Kowalski was at a loss. "What… like outside?"
Skipper frowned. "Yes, 'like outside.' The Chimps and I have it covered in here."
His jaw dropped. Here they were, finally making some sort of break and Skipper was sending them outside to watch a police station? One of the most secure buildings in the greater Manhattan district and Skipper wanted them running a perimeter on it? He couldn't believe it. "You… you can't be serious!" he spluttered.
Skippers frown deepened, and his eyes grew sharp. "In case you hadn't noticed Solider," He spat. "I'm giving you an order, Now fall in line!"
It was absurd. It was downright moronic in fact! What good would it do to have them outside and completely out of the loop!? There was a tight knot of rage forming in Kowalski's belly as he tried to find the reasoning in this stupid decision. Skipper wasn't budging, still scowling at him even as Rico and Private made for the door without him.
He wanted to argue, to make his case, but he wasn't even sure which end of the stick being used to shove him away to grab. Skipper hadn't so much as flinched even as the Chimps ducked their heads and moved closer to the monitor to avoid being in the firing line. "Fine." He hissed finally, spinning on his heel to stalk back towards the exit.
Outside his rage only doubled. Private didn't seem to notice, cheerily announcing he was going to inspect the west side of the building, not even beginning to notice the giant red flags being waved right under his nose. Rico had also started scouting, darting around the Alleyway and disturbing the groups of rats Kowalski had only heard earlier, sending them scattering in various directions with shrill squeaks.
"Run a perimeter?" He snarled, pacing in the shadows shrouding the mouth of the alley. "He could have at least put some effort in if he was going to lie to our faces."
Rico glanced over in confusion, placing the rubbish bag he was holding over his head down with a loud rustle. "Lie?"
Kowalski exploded. "Yes of course! Why was it not obvious enough to you with the fact he wanted us to secure a perimeter on a dammed police station?!" The knot in his stomach had quickly grown to engulf his whole body. "He wants us kept in the dark about what's happening and can't even spare the energy to be subtle about it, how can you not see that?!"
"Woah, what's got your goat man?"
Kowalski jumped at the voice, lunging back into the shadows of the alley ready to attack. He'd been too hasty! Skipper had been right!
"Eeeyyy! Mooncat!" Rico chirped.
Or not.
The tabby cat laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck "Yeah, It's Max… again. Also still not from the moon you know." As he scratched a rouge flea jumped from the dirt patch caked into his matted fur behind his ear.
"Mooncat." Rico repeated.
Max sighed, "Alright yeah, sure, whatever works." He quickly perked up. "What are you guys doing all the way out here? Not hunting rats I hope." There was a hesitant nervousness in his laugh this time.
Kowalski righted himself with a grumble "No, Penguins don't eat Rats. They're all yours."
"Awww, you guys are just too sweet! I'm happy to share you know, Pickings are great around here! Way better than by that old dumpster on 34rd behind the Chinese food place, but hey, don't eat where you sleep right?" as if to make his point a rouge rat made a bold move to sprint across the alley and Max pounced, missing by only a small margin. "Wily little morsels." He grumbled, beginning to root through the trash Rico had been searching through moments before. "Isn't there usually four of you? Where's the rest of your squad?"
The anger came back with a vengeance and Kowalski folded his arms sharply. "Wise question, I wish I could answer it."
"Ooh, something's got you upset." Max stopped in his pursuit of the rat, bounding over to sit between Rico and Kowalski, furless tail tip twitching. "What's up?"
Rico craned his neck to look up, walking in a short circle. "huh?"
Max raised an eyebrow over his heterochromatic eyes. "Not the brains of the bunch are you, buddy." He turned his gaze on Kowalski, licking his paw to rake it over his ear. "Usually it's the short one doing all of the talking, where's he?"
Kowalski jerked a flipper at the building behind him. "Inside, doing newton only knows what." He growled.
Max bolted to his paws in a panic. "He didn't get arrested did he? This is a prison-break isn't it! I-I-I- I can't be here!" He stammered pulling down on his ears nervously, creeping back towards the pile of rubbish. "I'm going to get arrested!"
Kowalski couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "They're going to arrest you?"
Call him crazy, but he severely doubted the metropolitan police department of new York would be going out of their way to arrest a stray cat.
"Yes!" Max Yowled. "Listen ok, there were these homeless guys hanging around outside the pharmacy and I figured hey, they probably want what's inside right? So I started breaking into the joint to nab some of those pills humans like and they tossed me scraps in exchange." He looked absolutely distraught by this point, voice cracking into harsh asthmatic wheezes. "I know it was bad ok, but they had fried chicken! Have you ever even tried fried chicken?"
"No."
Max didn't seem to be listening at this point, and Kowalski figured the question had been meant mostly rhetorically anyway. "They got taken away by the police afterwards and I just know they've ratted me out to the cops!" He lunged over to grip onto Kowalski's shoulders, unkempt claws digging in through the deep layer of feathers. "I can't help you here! I've gotta hide! I need to-
"At ease Mooncat."
Back on top of the dumpster Skipper was holding the window open to let Mason and Phil clamber through the opening. "No one's in trouble, just passing through."
Kowalski almost started with the sudden bubbling resurgence of the rage he had nearly forgotten, trembling as Max leant heavily against his shoulder. "Oh Thank goodness," He rasped, clutching at his chest dramatically. "I'm not cut out for prison." He noticed the Chimps and cocked his head to the side. "Uh… Who's the monkeys?"
"Great apes actually." Mason drawled, swinging down from the dumpster. "I didn't know you kept the company of strays Skipper."
The penguin leader let the window close, flipping down onto the ground. "Mooncat here is an old friend, and a valued asset on the wild streets of this concrete jungle. Mooncat, Mason and Phil."
"Max is fine." Max cut in, quickly shaking both of their hands. Phil took the opportunity to pick off one of the fleas crawling on the cat's leg fur and shove it in his mouth before he noticed.
"Charmed." Mason replied dryly, eyes narrowing in familiarity as he pointed. "Aren't you that cat we suggested disguising as a red Rhodesian slasher to evade animal control?"
Max laughed sheepishly again. "Yeesh, don't talk to me about that, I've still got scars from that psycho kitten." He didn't seem to notice that Phil hadn't stopped shaking his paw or that he was making quick work of plucking the fleas off his leg. Kowalski shuddered and hoped the small parasites were less interested in animals with feathers. "Not to sound ungrateful for the help or nothing."
Mason caught Phil's hand and pointedly put it down at his side. "Well it's a pleasure to be formally introduced."
"Not to break up this little mammalian pow-wow, but we've got a mission to complete." Skipper interjected. "Where's the Private?"
"Right here Skipper!" As if on cue Private crept around the side of the building, relaxing as he entered the shadows of the alley. "The western Perimeter is all clear by the way!"
"Excellent work Private." Skipper commended, and Kowalski could feel his feathers rising. Rico had stopped staring into the sky and he could feel his concerned stare burning a hole in his shoulder. It was better than Skipper he appeared to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. The cowardice was making his skin itch. At least he hoped it was the cowardice and not fleas. "Let's roll out men, Mooncat."
As they left the alley Kowalski could still hear Max shouting after them. "You do know my name right? Like my actual name?"
He'd hoped the trek back to the zoo would help with the anger.
It didn't.
If fact, judging by the ache in his jaw and the unconscious way his flippers kept curling in to form fists, it was actually making it worse. Skipper hadn't said a word to him since the records room, and seemed to be making a point not to do so, asking Private instead for his thoughts on potential routes and casually testing his knowledge of the city and how to navigate it, without even a flicker of unease. For all the world he seemed completely normal and Private was buying it hook line and sinker like a sucker.
Hell, he'd almost think the rookie had forgotten the point of the mission in the first place, happy to pitch in when asked and in turn learn from their commanding officer about urban survival.
Phil and Mason were both quiet, but there was a hunch to their shoulders that at least told Kowalski they had enough functioning neurons to realize something was amiss. There was an unease in the few small signs Phil did offer, eyes occasionally darting back and forth between the two groups of penguins escorting them like he was worried they had somehow mastered the language in the time since he had last spoken to them. Mason didn't even reply out loud, and for the first time Kowalski saw him actually using sign language himself. It was halting, and without the practiced smoothness Phil demonstrated but he kept at it regardless, choosing openly to avoid speaking and risk being understood.
Secrets on secrets, and apparently the only animals trusted enough with this information was a pair of civilians. Fantastic.
Truthfully there was another F word that would fit swimmingly in this situation, but It left Kowalski's mouth itchy. They didn't swear. Even though he might like to right now.
The only one keeping him in check was, surprisingly enough, Rico. For as much as the weapons expert appreciated flying off the handle at a moment's notice, he seemed fairly intent on keeping Kowalski firmly on it. Granted he wasn't doing much, but the concerned stare drilling into the side of his head as the way Rico seemed to be going out of his way to be as close to him as physically possible without actually touching him at all times spoke volumes for his intention. It actually kind of helped. Knowing someone, even if that someone was entirely unhinged, understood what was happening and was at least acknowledging the fact that Kowalski was one straw away from snapping reminded him he was sane.
Sane, and evidently rightfully angry. Just when Skipper started making sense to him and they were finally speaking the same language that flat-headed egomaniac had to go and blow it. What earthly reason could there be to keep this from them even for a second?! They were all affected, unlike Mason and Phil his brain supplied helpfully, and yet apparently this was just another one of the things Skipper had deemed as 'classified.' It was infuriating. It was downright malicious even! There were no good reasons as to why he would act this way, which left Kowalski with very few options.
The coincidences had been piling up since Skipper had set that damned alarm just in time for a very specific sea-bird to show up, and Kowalski honestly wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to keep ignoring them.
The feathers on his neck spiked, and he fought down the hiss crawling up his throat. Certainly Skipper wouldn't want him to ignore evidence, would he?
It was the soft touch to the back of his elbow that brought him out of it. "Walski?" Rico grunted.
They'd made it to the park already, the world dark behind them as the Zoo gates approached swiftly in front of them. At some point he'd stopped walking, and quickly resumed doing so, Rico making no effort to look like he wasn't copying him as he did the same. "Walski," he repeated, a warning sternness creeping into his tone. He sighed and scratched at his scar, knocking Kowalski gently in the process. "Skipper is-"
"No." he bit out quickly, slowing down to lengthen the distance between them and the chimps ahead. "We," he gestured quickly between them, "Are not having a conversation where you defend him."
Rico looked nothing short of a confused. "N… no?" he asked.
If he really wanted to look at it closely, he probably could have found another reason for the response, but in his current state all Kowalski could hear was Rico being confused about exactly why he wouldn't be able to try and defend Skipper.
Kowalski shook his head emphatically. "No."
"Oh, hold on! Phil, can you read this?"
The faux-vintage streetlights were more than bright enough to show Private was pointing excitedly at a gold plaque on the wall next to the zoo entrance. It looked relatively new, and Kowalski had to stop and wonder just how long it had been there. Certainly it hadn't been here the last time he'd checked. Although how often did really he check this wall specifically? It could have been there the whole time.
Having seemingly forgotten their stipulation of 'Last favour this month,' Both Mason and Phil looked downright relieved to be finally included in the normal conversation happening at the front of the group and bounded over to look. Skipper didn't seem all that pressed about the issue, folding his arms casually. Really what he should have been doing was herding everyone over the zoo wall so they could finish this mission and fill the rest of them in on exactly what he had found. But of course he wasn't.
Phil began signing and Mason dutifully translated, "It reads, To commemorate the anonymous donor who provided the funding to keep this Zoo operational. The staff and animals of the central park zoo thank you."
"So someone donated money to keep the zoo open?" Private asked in confusion. "I thought it was because we got popular again?"
"It wouldn't appear so." Mason replied, squinting at the plaque. "But one can hardly look a gift horse in the mouth."
Who cares. Honestly, who cares about why the zoo stayed open? What difference did it make in this situation? How would that help at all? Like mason had said, 'why look a gift horse in the mouth?' and why waste time doing it now.
Private started to look a little worried, and beyond all reason Kowalski was hoping he had figured out something was wrong. "I didn't know it was a donation. What if it closes down again when the money runs out?"
Of course not. He could feel Rico's flipper on his trembling elbow again, choosing without thinking to let it be. It was almost nice. Kind of grounding in a strange way.
Skipper finally deigned to speak again, righting himself and offering the smallest penguin a hearty thump on the back. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it Private, right now we have civilians to escort."
It didn't take long, but Skipper clearly wasn't trying to hurry the process along, letting Private offer a profuse thank you to both of the clearly uncomfortable chimps as they hopped back over the wall into their habitat. There was no noticeable shift in his behaviour once they were gone either, the rookery leader seemingly quite happy to slowly meander back to their habitat, idly discussing of all things his plans for training in the morning.
It was infuriating.
By the time they were all standing in the underwater base Kowalski wasn't sure how much patience he had left. It felt like a continual static shock was holding every last one of his muscles to attention, bones creaking under the skin from the force he was applying just to keep them in place and avoid lashing out. The ache in his jaw had doubled, and every single last one of his feathers was standing bolt upright.
Skipper was rubbing his beak in thought as the coffee machine whirred to completion. "Or would it be better to do the underwater drills after the endurance run around the zoo? Really check the specs on those lungs…"
Private happily swung himself up onto one of the cinderblock chairs, kicking his feet contentedly. "Wouldn't it be better to do the run after, while we're tired?"
"You know what? That sounds like the right answer to me Private." He agreed, pouring a cup into his ever present and battered metal mug before replacing the pot. "So you should all probably get a head start on some shut eye if you want to be at your best."
Right as Kowalski was about to scream Skipper finally turned to him, tipping his head towards the lab door. "Kowalski, a word if you wouldn't mind?" as he said it he took a long gulp from his coffee, like there was nothing pressing happening in the slightest.
It spoke to the level of control Kowalski had that he didn't immediately spit back with something venomous. Rico still had his flipper on his elbow but he finally slipped out of his reach, stalking towards his lab without a single word, hearing the soft pattering of Skipper following him.
His mind was racing, heart thumping a mile a minute and all he wanted to do was shout. Surely now he would get a chance to do just that. Whatever Skipper had to say he was a fool if he thought Kowalski was going to be an accomplice in this shady behaviour, whatever he said was immediately going directly to Rico and Private, and if he even tried to lie there was going to be hell to pay. He wanted answers, and he wanted them back in the records room where any normal penguin would have shared them in the first place.
As Skipper took a seat at the smaller concrete slab acting as a table Kowalski slammed the door behind them both, finally letting the top off his bubbling rage and letting it begin to spill outwards. He'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good, the anger finally bursting through the cracks into the open.
"So what was it." He snarled, rounding on the leader with clenched fists. "What was so top secret you decided to keep it from your entire team, huh? Was I mistaken in thinking we were all in this together?"
Skipper didn't reply, head in his flippers and face angled down at the table. His anger took on a righteous light, beak twisting into something that could have been a sneer or a wild smile. He laughed without meaning too, the sound harsh and biting. "If you think you can keep this from me, you're wrong! What was it!"
"She's dead."
It was like plunging into frozen water.
"I… what?"
Skipper heaved out a shaky breath, finally lifting his head to reveal his face had lost the irreverent veneer. He looked tired more than anything, eyes hollow and serious. "The first night of Frances Alberta's stay in holding the security cameras were cut. She and three on duty officers were found the next morning deceased." He parroted, seemingly numb. "All were shot at point blank range with a single bullet."
Kowalski watched in mounting horror as Skipper tapped the centre of his forehead. "Execution style."
There was bile rising in his throat, stomach flipping over and over itself as the anger surging through his veins only moments before condensed into a cold festering ball of something much darker. They'd been in dangerous situations before, of course they had, but never… "She was murdered?"
Skipper smiled humourlessly. "Can you see why I didn't want Private or Rico to hear this?" he asked.
And he could. He didn't even want to be hearing this. It was like taking a step only to find nothing under you, and here he was stuck in the free-fall. They'd never dealt with… Private would never be able to handle it and Rico would be liable to shut down completely. Hell, Kowalski realised he might be doing just that.
Skipper sighed and pushed his coffee mug away, still only half drunk. "I had the chimps double check against personnel records. Three officers were pronounced K.I.A on the same day. It's not a fluke or a mistype in her file. Frances Alberta is dead."
That word rang like a gunshot and Kowalski shuddered.
"If that even was her name." Skipper added finally, putting his head back into his flippers.
"What do you-"
"Police investigation found no records for Frances Alberta. Her Zoology degree was a forgery, as was her license and for all intents and purposes she never existed prior to it."
His head was swimming. It was overload on overload. The desire to give in to the shut down and stop listening was singing a faint sirens song somewhere in his mind. He closed his eyes and gripped down tightly on the sides of his head, wrestling with the information. "You said if that even was her name?" he muttered, trying to hold off the dark waves of water quickly flooding his lungs. The only way out of this spiral was through, he just had to control the descent in any way he could.
Skipper laughed, but there was no mirth to it, the sound empty and echoing. "See, that's where things really get fun. When they ran her prints the found a match to a woman who was arrested in her youth for disorderly conduct at a protest about the death penalty, she allegedly attacked someone in favor of abolishing the practice, but her name is Genevieve Waters. She's a world renowned robotics major who was reported as missing years prior. Frances Alberta not only has identical finger prints, but is also a spitting image of her."
"So she was lying about who she was." Kowalski surmised. "Frances clearly had robotics knowledge so-"
"Except," Skipper interrupted, cutting him off mid thought, His voice rising, words firing out on full-automatic. "She claimed to have no knowledge of who Genevieve Waters was, in fact…"
When he opened his eyes again Skipper looked manic. There was a frenzied desperation in his movements as he stood up and slammed his flippers down on the table, barking out another hollow laugh. "In fact," He reiterated gleefully, "Frances Alberta claimed she didn't remember anything prior to waking up alone in an apartment three years ago!"
That was when Kowalski hit the ground, and it shattered every bone with the impact.
He felt as if he was watching his own body through a video tape, able to see his shallow breathing and the crushing pressure he was applying to his skull, but unable to do anything about it from his role as observer.
Skipper shook his head with the same desperation. "Now, who does that remind you of?"
"She could have been lying-"
Skipper exploded. And Kowalski recognised it for what it was. The final letting go of holding onto every bottled up emotion and letting them run rampant with no regard for the consequences. He'd just done it himself after all, but apparently Skipper was far more skilled at hiding his true emotions than he had been. "She was hysterical during her interrogation, claiming she only had a few voicemails to piece together who she was supposed to be and she followed them without question, never even beginning to see what was wrong until she finally looked around and realsed nothing fit together!"
He was shouting, though it wasn't directed at Kowalski.
"She only shut down on the detectives when they asked about the Robots, saying It was something she remembered how to do from before! She never asked for a lawyer, or an attorney, only told them something bad was going to happen to her now they were aware she knew!" He was panting at this point, chest heaving at uneven intervals. The cloud of erratic energy started to focus and Skipper turned to him, eyes still just as tired and hollow above his splitting grin. "And now she's dead, so I'll ask you, do you think she was lying?"
The short answer was no. The long answer was trapped somewhere between his ribs. It all sounded familiar, painfully so, but there were hanging threads in the leading questions and outpouring of information he knew Skipper was trying to get him to connect on his own. The only problem was that he didn't want to. "Do you think this is connected?" he asked instead.
From somewhere behind the door Kowalski could hear the faint sounds of the TV, present only now Skipper had stopped yelling. The humming of the equipment and faint buzzing of the exposed lightbulbs tried to fill the gaping silence, but only made it louder. Skipper seemed to deflate, dropping back down onto the cinderblock heavily, all the air gone with their weight of his words, eyes locked on his flippers resting once again on the table.
He looked just as lost, and there was a cold comfort in that fact.
"Do you want to know what happened in Denmark?" Skipper asked instead.
Kowalski didn't follow.
Sure, he was curious, every member of their squad was, but with their leader so defeated and the acrid knowledge a woman had been murdered still in his throat it hardly seemed appropriate. "I don't know now is the time…" He tried to be gentle, sitting down opposite his superior officer in the economically sparse light.
Skipper nodded slowly, his shadow bobbing in time. "That's good…" He tailed off, steeling himself before he looked up again, "because the truth is, I don't know."
The story of Denmark been hinted at so many times, a promising tale of betrayal and conspiracy made only the more tantalising by the shroud of mystery.
And it turns out it didn't even exist in the first place.
There wasn't words for the litany of questions assaulting Kowalski from every side. He wasn't sure if he could even corner one and form the words needed he would even go through with it. The most jarring part was the fact that for the first time he was certain Skipper was telling the truth about it. He was a good liar, but not this good.
The silence spoke for him it seemed as Skipper started speaking again. "I know something happened. I know Hans was at least there, if not involved, but beyond that it's all missing. It always has been."
"But… how?" That was the real crux of the issue. He knew that if he could look at it objectively he could figure it out, but his head was starting to hurt, tangled in the web of truths and hypothesis that had been spinning together with every new piece of evidence. He had thought it was a straight line from problem to solution, but while he hadn't been looking it had multiplied into fractals beyond his control. "If it was a memory that was removed, how did you know about it at all?"
"How do you know about Doris?" Skipper replied and on instinct Kowalski flinched at her name, hurdling over the more pressing issues to latch onto his old Dolphin flame. Of course he knew about Doris, a penguin didn't get shot down on that many occasions without remembering it-
There was a dawning sense of horror starting rise inside him.
"I've never met her." Skipper continued, shrugging helplessly. "If I were the betting type I'd say you haven't seen her since you woke up in that box two years ago."
He was right. Kowalski hadn't seen her in two years. Which meant, as far as memory dictated, he never should have met her. Or, more pressingly, he shouldn't remember her.
So why did he.
Skipper stared him down seriously. "But you know who she is don't you? You've told us enough about her."
Kowalski could only nod.
"I knew who Hans was before we met him too, and I'd never considered that wrong until you told me I should have forgotten everything from before two years ago. I knew who he was, Obnoxious, sly, untrustworthy. I recognised him immediately when he first showed up at this zoo and fooled you all into thinking he wanted to be friends, so I'm asking you, how."
Kowalski didn't know. He hadn't even noticed any of this. What else had he been missing in plain sight? "How long did you know about this?"
Skipper looked away and Kowalski a rapid wave of irrational anger swept over him. How long had Skipper been keeping this important information from him? These were important questions to be asking, how was he ever supposed to figure this out if the edges of it were still completely hidden.
"Only since you said we'd had our memories taken." There was a note of shame in his voice. "I had thought… well I'd hoped it would have made sense eventually, but it's only become less and less clear."
Kowalski didn't want to speak, unsure what would come out if he tried.
He looked genuinely apologetic, and once again Kowalski was sure this was yet another thing that was not a lie. "It's not just Hans, or Doris. Its Blowhole, its Manfredi, Its Johnson." Skipper listed. "People, or at least names, we remembered regardless."
Manfredi and Johnson. Kowalski shook his head to try and clear it. The names were familiar, though admittedly one more than the other, but he had nowhere to place them in his memories.
"That's not the only things we remembered though, is it?" Skipper added, the remorse in his voice now less pointed and more general somehow. "I know you're my Lieutenant don't I? That the four of us are a team. That we're the good guys and we protect people. I know how to fight, how to organise a recon patrol, how to make a cup of coffee." He knocked the now cold cup with a flipper for emphasis. "I know how to walk, and talk, why didn't that all go as well?"
"That's all base knowledge." Kowalski answered, finally sure of something. "The neural pathways of the brain used for that aren't the same. Once you reach a certain threshold, knowledge stops being contingent on your memory of how to do it. It becomes rote. It's like habit building. Once you've done something for long enough it stops being based in the same region of the brain. It becomes something similar to your blood type, or allergies, in a lot of way it becomes a part of you."
"Like a personality?" Skipper asked.
There was a surety in this line of questioning Kowalski was desperate to hold on to. He knew this, these were questions he could answer. "Yes."
"I was hoping that was the case." Skipper murmured, and it made Kowalski aware there were two conversations taking place at once.
"What do you mean?"
Skipper sat back, hesitant. "Maybe that's why we remember it? I don't trust easy, and for argument's sake, let's call it paranoia."
It was paranoia. Kowalski felt himself wanting to smile for the first time since this conversation started.
"Maybe the reason I remember Hans and Denmark is because something there caused that?"
It was a valid theory. "Trauma is usually more contingent on memories though…" He mused.
Skipper shook his head, almost offended. "It's not trauma. I have a wary personality." He pointed across the table. "Like you said, it's part of me. Is the reason I remember Han's and Denmark because they impacted that part of me?"
Lights were starting to go on, one by one. "Like a habit…" Kowalski breathed.
Skipper nodded grimly. "I think when they took our memories they didn't realise they couldn't take the habits with them."
The brain wasn't a nicely organised filing cabinet. You couldn't just reach in and take out single items in the same way. Every neural pathway branched and connected in other places. Just because you take the memory of learning to walk away, doesn't mean you take the ability to walk with it. The ability to make connections was a great skill of the brain, but it was also a great weakness as well. Everything was connected to everything else in some way. And maybe if you take the memory of an event it didn't take away the things you connected to it. If every time someone acted untrustworthy you recalled a place and a person that made you learn not to take everyone at face value, would removing the details remove the habit as well?
Kowalski's brain was almost humming. "You may be right." Something was still bothering him though, "Then what's with the fish? You always say 'finish It with fish' when you and Hans fight. What does that mean? Why do you recall that detail?"
Skipper looked relaxed and waved a flipper nonchalantly with a scoff. "Well that's obvious, it's because in Denmark…"
Kowalski waited for him to continue. But he didn't, and every moment he spent without talking the relaxed visage slipped lower and lower. "Skipper?"
He didn't look relaxed now, eyes wide and flickering back and forth like he was trying to read something. One of his flippers came up to hold the side of his head as he opened and closed his beak a few times, about to say something before deciding against it. He looked worried. "Sir?!"
"I don't know." His voice cracked as he spoke. "I… I don't know what it means. Hans said it first and I…"
Do you remember your mum?
For a while he thought he had. If he hadn't looked closer and fought through the urge to disregard it and cling to the knowledge of what a mother was like as opposed to his own memories of his own mother he would have assumed he did. The synaptic blockers were reflective after all, they did everything possible to try and remain undetected, that's how they had for so long.
So what did they do when someone else claimed knowledge of a shared event?
"You thought you knew because you assumed Hans knew." Kowalski spluttered, gripping tight to the thread he had found, unwinding it back through the information he already had. "I said they were reflective and they are, they encourage us to simply accept facts told to us about our past instead of looking deeper, I mean our brains do that enough on their own even without that, it's the confirmation bias, but whatever method was used to take our memories just upped that to an extreme."
There were patterns. If he could fight through the shock and the fear and the overload he could see them.
Skipper still looked concerned and was now holding his head in both flippers, eyes scrunched in pain as the synaptic blockers did their work and discouraged Skipper from looking for answers. "He said he kissed my sister once, I didn't even question if he did, I just said I didn't have a sister-"
"Frances!" Kowalski shouted.
The leader of the rookery still looked confused, but Kowalski didn't have time. There was a pattern. "What does-"
"The voicemails!" He got to his feet, needing to move. "You said she told the police she woke up alone, and the only clues she had as to who she was were the voicemails! It's the same dammed thing you did with the fish. She believed them, that's why she didn't notice something was wrong sooner! Do you know what this means?!"
Skippers face had dropped. "It is connected, isn't it."
He felt like he could march directly into Joey's habitat and punch him in the nose, the adrenaline was just that strong. "Same MO. It's like how I said it couldn't be Blowhole, the scientific finger prints, they're the exact same. What happened to Frances, what happened to us, It was all done all done by the same person! No wait-" He swung around. "It happened to Hans too, He doesn't have his memories either, that's Six!"
The great thing about a penguins feathers was just how thick they were, able to hide almost any changes to the skin beneath them. Even with this advantage though it was clear Skipper's face had gone pale. "This isn't a good thing Kowalski." His voice was shaking.
"What are you talking about, we finally have a lead! We have-"
"Kowalski!" Skipper shouted.
It wasn't the volume that made him stop, it was the panic.
He was missing something, but the adrenaline was still pumping. "What? Why is-"
"Because Frances was murdered, remember?!"
The knowledge burst through and it tasted like bile.
He was going to be sick.
It couldn't…
"Remember what she said to the police?" Skipper pressed. "'something bad is going to happen to me, now they're aware I know'."
There were mental images playing a morbid horror story behind his eyes. Private, Rico, Skipper… "But… we…"
"She's dead now Soldier." Skipper held his flippers up and Kowalski could see they were shaking. "She was right. If we're connected to her, then we're also connected to the people who killed her when she found out."
The television noise was gone now and It only made the silence louder.
"We haven't done anything." Kowalski whispered. They hadn't. there was no way for any powers that be to know what they knew. If even the central park zoo was completely unaware of their operation there was no way anyone else could know. They were safe.
They were safe, and he was lying to himself.
"How did they even know what she'd done!" He defended, desperate to shake the sound of a silenced pistol shot ringing with alarming clarity in his ears. "It could all be a coincidence!"
"Or she knew she was being watched, and realised she'd made a big mistake with those robots!" Skipper snapped back, also getting to his feet to mirror Kowalski. "What do you think is more likely?"
"Then where were they watching her? The Zoo? How would they even know…"
He trailed off.
One forged license and one forged Zoology degree. That was all that existed of Frances Alberta.
How hard would it be to fake a voicemail asking her to come in for an interview? She had more than enough credentials to be a zookeeper at Hoboken zoo. The same Zoo Hans was living in.
Skipper had mentioned Blowhole, a memory they all shared before he had ever revealed himself and there he was wasting away in a near abandoned aquatic zoo.
'To commemorate the anonymous donor who provided the funding to keep this Zoo operational…'
Skipper was talking but he couldn't hear him over the static roaring in his ears. He could see clearly the four of them, Skipper, Rico, Private and himself, all lying still with feathers caked in dried blood from a ragged open wound torn through their skulls.
"We're all being watched."
His voice came out a barely audible whimper. It was too close to home, to visceral, to real. He felt like he was being watched even now, and the eyes felt like sniper sights boring straight through him, pinning him in place. His chest was heaving and his stomach was a roiling pit of bile needing release.
"Where else do you keep animals? The zoo's… they're just observation tanks."
A hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and controlling.
"Kowalski!"
He was panicking, he knew that. But how he ended up on the ground staring up at Skipper was beyond him. One of his superiors Flippers were still hovering unsurely in the air from where he had tried to reach out and calm him. It had been Skipper. Of course it had.
"We need to leave!" he blurted out, heaving himself to his feet. It wasn't safe, they were all in danger.
Skipper grabbed him as he tried to run past, both flippers firm on his shoulders and the feeling made his skin crawl. "Calm down, no we don't." He was trying to be reassuring, but it wasn't working. The barely hidden fear said more than words could.
The walls were closing in around him. "We're going to die if we stay here!" He could still see the sun bleached rock of the ice flow splattered in dark red.
"We'll die if we leave." Skipper corrected, "Think about it, think about what you said, we haven't done anything."
"We're being watched-!"
"And we haven't given them a single reason to think we know that!" Skipper interrupted, shaking him once for good measure. "If we leave that's more suspicious than if we stay put and carry on as usual!"
Kowalski couldn't breathe. "But Frances-"
"Frances made a mistake, one we are not going to repeat." The fear on Skippers face was abating, a cold calculation replacing it. "Listen to me, if they've been watching us this entire time and haven't acted then we have been doing everything right. We stay covert, under the radar. We're ghosts when we work. Nobody we don't want to knows about us."
He wanted to believe him, but his eyes remained fixed on the centre of Skippers forehead.
"The cameras, what are the specs." He demanded.
"Black and white, no audio, intermittent image capture to save file space, images deleted automatically after three days without intervention." Kowalski parroted, regurgitating the information he had memorised long ago without thinking. He couldn't think, because all he could think about was the dead woman and her execution alone in a prison cell at the hand of a mysterious puppet master.
"Exactly." He was forced back to the present yet again by another firm shake. "Kowalski, you know the placement of every camera in this zoo backwards. Line of sight, field of view even the focus points. You would know if we had been seen."
He was breathing. He had thought he couldn't, the compression of his chest so tight he swore the was no room left for air, but he was breathing. Every breath was 21% oxygen and every exhale took with it the 16% he didn't need.
"So have we been seen?"
The walls weren't moving, still on the outskirts of the economically minimalist lighting, same rough concrete as ever.
The only way out was through.
"No, we haven't." His words were shaky, but his voice was level.
Skipper nodded, finally dropping his flippers from his shoulders. "Then we're fine. As long as we carry on as usual no one will be the wiser."
It made the most sense really, even if the panic still clawing at the inside of his ribs screamed otherwise. Breathe in and then out, Kowalski reminded himself unsteadily. "What do we do now then?"
Skipper sighed and scratched his neck. "Long term? I don't know. Short term? We can't tell Rico and Private. I can't keep all three of you calm."
Kowalski want to speak but Skipper brushed him off. "I'll tell them something, I'll just bend the truth a little."
"So you'll Lie by omission." Kowalski corrected.
Skipper shrugged, at least having the stones to look guilty. "It's the best way to keep them safe." He didn't even sound convinced of himself, but Kowalski didn't have room to come up with anything else. The anxiety was still there, hidden only by a thin layer of blind faith and a determination to not fall apart again. Knowledge was his greatest ally and if he wanted Skipper to keep him informed he couldn't break down again.
"And after that?" He asked.
"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it." He smiled weakly, and Kowalski wasn't entirely sure the malaphor wasn't intentional. "We've handled everything else thrown at us so far, we can handle this too. We just need to rethink our strategy."
He wanted to point out they'd never handled anything quite like this, but he kept his mouth shut, scared what else would come out with it.
Of course he was scared. A woman who had been victim of the same memory control they were had been shot dead in her prison cell after figuring it out, and they were hot on her trail and doing the same thing. They were being watched and whoever had done this had already shown they weren't playing games. They either got this right or they faced a similar fate.
It was downright terrifying. But there were no other options.
Skipper nodded, seemingly content with their action plan and turned to leave.
Kowalski slumped back down onto the cinder block. He wasn't going to be able to sleep, not after this. Better to go through it again and note it down. Maybe something else would jump out at him if he did.
Skipper hadn't left, instead standing in front of the door and eyeing It curiously. "What are these Soldier?"
Kowalski looked up, almost afraid, only to see his leader was studying the drawing of the eyes still taped haphazardly to the back of the door.
To think that was where this mess started, Kowalski could almost laugh. "It was a memory I recovered after a dream." He answered, "At the time I thought it was important."
He wished now more than ever he knew who they belonged too. The bone deep feeling of safety he had felt during that dream would have been welcomed now. Trapped in a hazy bubble of shifting warmth and sharing that comfort with someone else, nothing else had mattered in that moment. It had just been the both of them existing in a frozen second of molten glass and the thought of going back to that place was almost enough to make his heart ache. He'd never been good at connecting with others and to know sometime before all of this he had and lost it was numbing.
"I think they're important to me." He added finally, unsure of how Skipper would react.
He cocked his head to the side and shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe it's Doris? I don't recognise them."
Now wouldn't that be something. Kowalski smiled in spite of himself.
I can't even BEGIN to describe how excited I am we've made it this far! Finally, Payoff! Bottom Text!
I know theres a lot going on in this chapter, but there was a lot that needed to get out of the way so the plot could continue, and what's better than one big reveal? One big reveal and a bunch of plot threads and clues am I right?! Also, a Murder? in your Penguins of Madagascar fanfiction? It's more likely than you think.
On a more serious note, this is your reminder to please head the warnings. If blood or death makes you uncomfortable, or upsets you in anyway I would advise leaving now. This is one of the few turning points coming up and this is the turning point where things get progressively darker from here on out. Kowalski has officially stopped following the rabbit and he's now falling down the rabbit hole, there isn't an option to turn around from here.
I keep wanting to bait reveals, but I don't think there's going to be a big final pay off until the end. That said we will hit milestones along the way, and another is coming up soon! I want to say the biggest? But it's still kind of not? I don't know, all I know is that I'm having a damn field day with this.
Ok, long chapter over. Long authors note? Also over.
See you all next week~
Peace!