In a matter of months, Skipper's life changed yet again. He was back to his old wanderings. With Manfredi and Johnson, there was even a bit more freedom. They were willing to push the limits of morality and legality much more than Sam ever had. Due to their own philosophies on life, they were much more lenient with Skipper and his behavior. While Sam had been a guiding flipper in his life, Manfredi and Johnson were more like pals. They never really reflected on the kind of example they were setting for the young penguin. After all, he was a fugitive now. Morality and responsibility seemed like a mute point. Besides, concerns with ethics were not always something they could afford.
The three penguins stand in an alleyway somewhere in Monte Carlo. Outside of a large casino, it appears they are preparing to venture in. For many reasons, they can't just waltz in. For one, animals aren't technically allowed in the building. And two, given Skipper's predicament, they couldn't run the risk of anyone recognizing him. Manfredi and Johnson had connections to a secret animal gambling spot, within one of the reserved rooms of the casino. It was a quick and easy way to pay for their next meal, and hopefully moreso. The grift just had to go well.
Skipper stands on an empty milk crate. This being the first mission they allowed him to join in on, he is admittedly a bit jumpy. He taps his foot subtly. Behind him Manfredi stands on his tippy toes, securing an eyepatch over Skipper's left eye. Skipper's face scrunches with the uncomfortableness. You know, he really could have done that himself.
"All right, kid, remember your name?" Johnson quizzes Skipper. He circles the milk crate.
"Uh… Two-Bit Hood… Jack the Knife" Skipper stammers, trying to remember. C'mon, it's a ridiculously long name.
"Erh!" Manfredi makes a buzzer noise.
"What? I was right!" Skipper was certain of it. He had studied, repeating his alias profile for an hour in his head.
"You've got to be a lot more convincing than that." Johnson shakes his head. Maybe the kid just didn't have what it takes. If that is the case, he doesn't stand much of a chance out here in the world.
"And where'd the accent go?" Manfredi pokes out from behind Skipper's side. He tilts his head and complains. "I liked the accent."
Skipper sighs. He has to pump himself back. That snafu back in Denmark really did a number on his confidence… and psyche among other things. "Right, right, right," Skipper pauses before getting into character.
"Two-Bit Hood Jack the Knife, at your service," Skipper musters up a convincing, polished British accent.
"All right, Jack, show us that trick you can do." Johnson looks at him quizzically.
With that, Skipper pulls out a dagger. He unsheathes it in the blink of an eye. In fact, the speed of his draw causes Manfredi to flinch. He surely wouldn't want to be at odds with Skipper. Upon drawing the dagger, he balances it on the very tip of his flipper. Confidently, he rests the opposite flipper on his hip and leans on his back foot. Now, this is the easy part.
"Good," Johnson rubs his chin.
Manfredi's not so convinced. He makes a lipsmack sound. "You know, it's still missing something."
Johnson turns to give him a bewildered look. However, before he can look back at him, Manfredi is already digging around in their treasure chest of costume supplies. It's really just a dinged up briefcase they nabbed off some human. But it has the piece of resistance to top off Skipper's new look.
Manfredi presses a mustache straight onto Skipper's beak. The unsuspecting penguin goes cross-eyed, looking at the sudden addition to his ensemble. Just as quickly as he placed the mustache, Manfredi is off looking for a mirror. He excitedly brings it inches from Skipper's face.
"Ooh, I like it!" Skipper admires his reflection in the handheld mirror. He traces his chin with his flipper smoothly. Making faces at his reflection, including a smirk and a wink, the others can tell he is getting quite a kick out of himself.
"All right, don't stroke your ego too hard. We've got a mission to do." Johnson lowers the mirror.
"Righty-o," Skipper clears his throat, returning to his British accent.
Once settled inside the casino, the three split up so as to avoid suspicion. Skipper, as priorly instructed, makes his way to a card table. He was quite familiar with the game Stomp the Wombat. Manfredi and Johnson liked to play and would often deal him in. Whatever fish they had left over from the week, they would gamble in their Saturday night game.
As confident as a tiger, Skipper sits down at a table with many other, much larger animals. They all stare at him, as he sits down so brazenly. Many of them are in fact predators, but Skipper keeps his cool. Even the herbivores at the table look rough. He pays them no mind and goes to stick a card up against his forehead.
"You lost, penguin?" A ruffle-feathered hawk grumbles.
This emits a chuckle from some of the surrounding animals. It boils Skipper's blood to be pointed out so blatantly. However, he keeps his persona. It gives him all the more reason to continue playing.
"Pardon me, gents" Skipper stands and does a little bow. "The name's Two-Bit Hood Jack the Knife." He then does his trick with the dagger.
The animals are rather surprised by his display. They all stare on, both amazed and confused at the sight. It didn't seem like this British gent would know a whole lot about Stomp the Wombat. So far, the tiny penguin had just shown them a parlor trick.
While they are none the wiser, Manfredi uses the distraction to sneak up. He crawls from behind Skipper to a spot underneath the table. Phase one of the plan was complete.
"Now," Skipper slams the dagger down into the table. With a devilish look in his eye and stern turn to his voice, he shifts the entire mood at the table. "I'd rather get to playing if it's all the same with you gents."
It seems they had underestimated this penguin. The way in which he thrusted the knife into the table startled the animals. Though none of them would admit it. Partially, it was to throw his weight around admittedly, but also to prevent them from noticing the movement of the tablecloth as Manfredi settled in.
Throughout the game, Skipper slyly allows his cards to dip below the table. The mood above the table is tense, as the participants exchange heated glances. Every once in a while, Manfredi will snag a card from Skipper's deck and replace it with another. Every time Skipper feels a tap on his foot, he knows to show his hand.
Skipper clears his throat. "I believe the term is 'read them and weep', gents." Skipper lays out his winning cards and reclines back, crossing his flippers over his chest.
This creates a stir amongst the other players. Some throw their cards down frustratedly at the table. Others are in disbelief that the penguin has just won yet another round. At this point, Skipper has a mountain of cash piled up. It far surpasses any scrapes of wagers the other players have remaining. He appears to be getting rather cocky at this point. A fact the other animals do not take too kindly to.
"Shall we play another round, gov'nah?" Skipper smirks, evoking grumbles.
The Tasmanian devil beside him angrily throws down his cards. However, in his wrath, he accidentally sent one floating down towards the floor. Skipper is too wrapped up in the moment and his own success that he doesn't notice. The Tasmanian devil disgruntledly drops to the floor and reaches for the card. But before he can reach his paw out for it, a flipper snatches it from under the tablecloth.
"Wait a second…" The mammal scratches his chin.
He lifts the tablecloth to find Manfredi staring back at him. For a second they stare at each other dumbfoundedly. Then, Manfredi chuckles nervously. "Uh, hi." He smiles and waves.
"Hey!" The Tasmanian devil stands up, pointing down at the table. "The bird is cheating!"
Skipper stands up, offended for being accused of a crime he may… or may not have committed. "I did none of the sort, I assure you!"
Just then, he feels Manfredi slapping his foot frantically from below the table. That's the signal. They'd been caught. Still, Skipper tries to make the best of the situation.
"Oh, would you look at the time? Well, I think you all lost enough money as it is. Let's call it." Skipper begins scraping the money off the table and into a sack. In the process, he has lost track of his accent.
"Hey," another player, this one a stray dog, barks out. "He's not even British!"
"Not even British?" A sensitive iguana sniffles at the deceit.
"Now, I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for - " Skipper begins backing away from the angry crowd.
Just then, the Tasmanian devil emerges from underneath the table. It seems he had dug his way under the tablecloth while Skipper was talking. By the time he is on his feet, he is dragging Manfredi out. His claws grip onto Manfredi's large, round head.
Skipper steps behind Manfredi instinctively. He's not sure what to do at this point. They've been had, snitched on. But Manfredi's response isn't what Skipper thought it would be. The penguin in front of him suddenly slouches a bit, hanging his head in what would appear to be shame. He sighs and puts his flippers together in front of him.
"All right," Manfredi sighs. "You've caught us. We're just a couple of hungry penguins out here looking for our next meal. Scrimping every last morsel and scavenging through the streets." He looks up at the much larger animals with pupils that seem to double in size. Not just that, but he also tilts his head and frowns.
Some of the players "aw" while others scratch their heads. It makes them wonder what they were doing, getting so angry at a couple of penguins. They were pretty adorable after all, so fragile and vulnerable. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if they kept the money, right?
While all of this is happening, Skipper stands back amazed. Manfredi was really laying it on thick. Surely, he didn't believe all that about himself or Johnson. He was using his natural, penguin charm as a shield. Like some sort of cloak of adorability. Whatever it was, it was working and Skipper liked it.
As Manfredi is batting his eyes at the mob, a commotion comes from across the room. The penguins look simultaneously to find Johnson running back into the room. He appears frantic and is running at full speed. Well, there was their distraction. Better late than never.
"Scram!" He yells, instructing Skipper and Manfredi.
Not seconds later, a human bursts through the door. Johnson must have purposefully drawn the attention of one of the humans. He knew by leading them to the room it would cause a ruckus. The commotion gives them a chance to escape.
"Animals?" The staff member exclaims, utterly shocked by the underground casino system occurring.
Skipper, Manfredi, and Johnson are among the first animals to make it out of the room. They retreat back into the alleyway where they had prepared before. Pressed up against the wall, Johnson pushes Skipper back into the shadow of the building.
Skipper can hardly wait to leap out and ask Manfredi a million questions.
"That was…" Skipper pauses, "so cool!" He bursts.
Manfredi is doubled over, still catching his breath. Johnson is still surveying their surroundings. But Skipper is reeling from the adrenaline rushing in his body.
"Yeah, we probably would've gotten even more loot, if it weren't for that mammal ratting us out." Manfredi breathlessly affirms.
"Let's do it again!" Skipper is nearly bouncing, as he tosses them the bag of cash.
Manfredi and Johnson exchange glances. How is this kid still so peppy after all of that? He must really like that adrenaline rush. Either way, it looks like he proved himself as a beneficial asset. They could continue to use his energy in the future.
"Just, uh, just watch the cockiness next time, okay?" Manfredi suggests.
"Sure thing." Skipper notes. Let's be honest, Skipper has yet to lose that cockiness.
Johnson slaps his flippers together. "Okay, you knuckleheads, let's get to counting the loot."
A few months later, the three find themselves in Buenos Aires. Their latest scam took a few days to plan. They placed posters strategically in alleyways and crevices where strays and zoo animals walkabout. It seemed that the animal-side of town was all abuzz with talk of the famous singer and playbird Diego Garcia's visit.
The only thing is… there is no Diego Garcia. At least, there is no singer by the name of Diego Garcia. Turns out this allegedly famous figure is Skipper, honing in on his second alias. If this plan works out, they'll be sitting pretty and will certainly have enough dough to attain their next meal. Skipper had grown quite accustomed to the crime syndicate of the stray animals by now. Their chances look pretty fair. While he isn't much of a singer, he does relate to the international playbird persona. He himself has become quite the playbird over the past few months.
Somewhere in an alleyway, a crowd had all gathered to see the visiting star. The animals are jam-packed between the two walls, each one trying to sneak a peek at the renowned celebrity. At the very back of the alley is a makeshift stage. There is a rather nice red curtain obscuring the back of the stage, where Skipper stands in wait to wow the crowd. Johnson, with Manfredi beside him, handles the talking. He has a fake microphone - styrofoam they had shaped and painted.
"Introducing the one, the only" Johnson starts, but the top of the microphone falls off and rolls on the stage. He leaps down to pick it up and places it back on top of the other styrofoam piece. "Uh, Diego Garcia!" Johnson recovers quite enthusiastically.
The crowd erupts in cheers, with some of the young animals weeping and appendages going up in the air. Skipper steps out in an Elvis-esque wig and a light blue cumberbund around his waist. He puts on a good show, smiling, waving, and winking at the crowd. In fact, he does everything short of the thing that the animals supposedly came there for - singing.
"Ahh! It's him! It's really him!" One of the fans cries out.
Skipper steps off the stage and into the crowd.
"Only five dollars to get your picture with the stunningly handsome Diego Garcia" Manfredi calls, walking through the crowd with a basket. The animals literally begin throwing money at him at this point. He even gets smacked in the head with a few coins.
"Ladies, ladies, now, there's plenty of me to go around." Skipper assures them in character. He is being swarmed by grabby hands, paws, and flippers. It is a hurricane of chaos, but he likes the attention.
From outside of the queue, a young, female porcupine sighs longingly. "Oh, I just love his music!"
A snooty sloth pushes up his thick-framed glasses on his nose. "Really? Name one of his songs."
Eventually, the crowd has died down. Manfredi's basket is overflowing with money. They've got loads of cash to spend on their next debaucherous trip. While Manfredi and Johnson are counting the stash, Skipper is still chatting with two female coatimundis. He has his flippers around their wastes. There is a coatimundi on either side of him. Their long tails sway flirtatiously around him.
"Hey," Skipper calls over, getting the attention of his friends. "Manfredi, Johnson, I'll catch up with you knuckleheads later. Don't wait up."
He winks and turns around, strutting away with the two ladies. Johnson just shakes his head and goes back to counting the money. Oh that scoundrel Skipper. He was becoming quite the casanova. To each his own. Manfredi, however, is still lost in thought.
"Pretty good, huh?" Johnson lifts a faux brow at Manfredi, gloating. His idea was turning out to be a lot more prosperous than Manfredi had originally suspected it would be.
"Yeah, I guess so." Manfredi shrugs. "When you're rich people just give you money."
"Looks like he's really coming into his own out here." Johnson sighs and reflects.
"Yeah, he's getting quite good at this." Manfredi is less positive in his affect. "I don't know, Johnson, you think we might be taking advantage of the kid?"
"What do you mean?" Johnson asks.
"I mean, you've seen his skills. Knowing how accident prone we are, neither of us could do half of what he does. Are you sure we're not setting him out to be our fall-guy?" Manfredi explains.
"What's wrong with that? Let the kid pull his weight?" Johnson shrugs, wanting to end this conversation. They were having great success with Skipper on their team.
"But look how much it's changing him. He wasn't like this when we started." Manfredi sighs.
"So? The kid's growing up. We don't have to feel guilty for that. We're showing him how the real world is for us penguins." Johnson defends himself.
"Now, don't get angry when I say this but… have you ever thought about settling down somewhere in a zoo?" Manfredi hesitantly suggests.
Johnson scoffs. He begins walking off. "Seriously, Manfredi?"
"What? I know what your thoughts are on those things but… We're getting older you know and that knucklehead will be in real danger if we get caught." Manfredi expels his worry.
"He'll be fine. He's a smart kid and hardy, too. He's proven that already." Johnson's done with the conversation.
"You're right." Manfredi sighs. "I'm thinking too much. But it's always good to have a plan B."
Thus, that heist concluded. And the team moves on to their next destination. Skipper wants to see Mathura, India. Especially at night, the lights were supposedly quite the sight. It's quite sappy, but who knows how long he'll still be kicking and roaming free. Why not make the most of it, right? He surely lives by that lifestyle, rather hedonistic in nature. And with Manfredi and Johnson's lax supervision, he practically does anything he wants.
There is definitely incentive for Manfredi and Johnson to greenlight Skipper's idea. Turns out a city along the way has quite the fish processing plant. With the right persona, Skipper could sweet-talk them into a fat stack of grouper and various other kinds of fish. Thus, the wealthy industrialist Lincoln Douglas was born… or, well, hatched.
Just right outside of a fish and shrimp plant in Kolkata, India is an abandoned factory. Unbeknownst to the humans, this has become a warehouse for some animals who make their living in selling stolen or unwanted seafood from the factory. It is the perfect spot to snag a sackful of supper. The team would be eating well for at least a week if they could pull off this swindle. All Manfredi and Johnson seem to have to do is allow Skipper to work his magic, while they focus on collecting the fish. It is an utterly foolproof plan.
In his latest ruse, Skipper dons a monocle over his left eye and a top hat on the very top of his flat head. He waddles through the streets regally, with his feet lightly sweeping the ground. Despite Lincoln Douglas's dignified gate, he relies on a short, ornate walking cane. Atop is a sphere of silver for him to rest his flipper on as he trods. The opposite flipper occasionally reaches for his golden pocket watch. His chest is puffed out, covered by an expensive-looking green vest with thin, vertical yellow stripes.
Manfredi and Johnson flank him swiftly. They are careful to keep pace with him, yet not daring to walk in front of him or too close behind. For their disguise, they are wearing black sunglasses and ties. It appears they will be playing the role of Lincoln Douglas's loyal bodyguards whom he pays very meagerly. Manfredi insisted on coming up with backstories for their characters, so his alias's name is Boris. He told them lots of extra details, but they had long forgotten it by now.
They are immediately met at the door by a towering bengal tiger. With his thick, muscular furry arms and the permanent scowl. He stares down the trio as they approach in such a presumptuous manner. This must be security for the site.
"Good day, my good man!" Skipper calls out with a voice similar to his Two-Bit Hood Jack the Knife but a skosh more polished. He extends his cane forward, diagonally in front of him.
The tiger just grunts.
"I see you are a man of fews words, sir!" Skipper taps his cane on the ground.
"No entry." The tiger slams a paw into the door he is guarding. His claws scrape the rusty metal of the door.
"Why, I see you are doing your due diligence, sir, but rest assured, I happen to be the owner, CEO, CFO, and C-EI-EI-O of this facility!" Skipper responds with unmistakable audacity. It would be difficult for anyone to deny him.
"Oh," The tiger's eyes expand suddenly. His posture changes entirely, as he lowers his head and hunches his shoulders forward. "Right this way, sir." The tiger opens the door for them, with his head still low and his tail between his legs.
Skipper leads the group into the bustling marketplace. Animals of all kinds are going around buying from the vendors at each station. The tables are old, shabby and some are just rusted conveyor belts that haven't functioned in a decade or more. Needless to say, the fish, and potential loot, is abounding. The tiger leads them directly to an even gruffer-looking rhinoceros in a foreman hat.
"My good sir, if you wouldn't mind taking me on a tour of my fine facility, while my associates take a brief sampling of our product." Skipper smooth-talks the rhino, placing a casual flipper on the rhino's shin. This is the highest part of the animal Skipper can comfortably reach.
Johnson whips out a sack, preparing to gather their fill of fish.
"For safety precautions of course." Skipper reassures his excuse for collecting the product.
And so, everything is going according to plan. Skipper is dragged along on a dull and tedious tour, while Manfredi and Johnson cram shrimp, grouper, tilapia, and more in their goodie bag. Despite his boredom, Skipper has no problem staying in character. Methodically, he eyes the product and taps the obsolete machinery with his cane when given the chance.
Just as it seems the mission will be yet another to add to the books, something grabs Skipper's attention. A familiar figure steps in through the door. His blood runs cold. As he stares at the doorway, he is completely missing whatever the rhino has to say. It surely doesn't make his character any more convincing.
The wretched puffin from his past, Hans, stands in the very doorway of the building. Not only that, but he is surrounded by penguin agents. They just so happen to be the very same penguins he himself had trained with at the agency. Hans is leading a team? That can't be possible. What with his track record? And then it hits Skipper. That was Hans's reward for betraying him. The board must have promoted him to leading his own squadron. And all for fabricating some lie.
Hans had lied, and yet he's being praised as if a hero. The irony of that made Skipper sick to his stomach. It was truly a cruel twist of fate. Hans had surely gotten his wish of fame and notoriety. It only came at the expense of Skipper's entire life and freedom. Skipper was innocent and yet was being hunted like a criminal, when Hans was the guilty one. Skipper's mind races. Hans made him out to be some sort of criminal.
Skipper looks around at where he is. All of a sudden, Hans was right all along. He had become a criminal. Perhaps, it had been inside of him all along. Maybe Hans was just the first to see it. With Manfredi and Johnson, he had spent the last several months of his life scamming and stealing. What is he doing? This isn't how he was raised.
Skipper's alias begins to falter. "Uh, hey - "
The rhino turns back to Skipper, partially surprised by the break in Skipper's accent. But maybe his ears are playing tricks on him.
"Um," Skipper clears his throat and regains his composure momentarily.
At the door, Hans is busy showing the tiger a picture of Skipper, then Johnson, and then Manfredi. Below each picture in big, bold letters it is clearly written "WANTED". The tiger leans in to get a better glimpse of each of the pictures. He holds them up and goes through each of them individually. Clearly, he's concentrating as he stares at each of them for a long time, while scratching his chin.
Skipper wastes not a second more. "Pardon me, sir. But it seems I must step away for a moment. It'll be but a moment."
Skipper weaves in and out of the crowd, keeping his head low. To ensure his face is not visible, he tips his top hat low. In his hurried pace, he makes sure not to run. That would only alert the team to his presence. He is playing a dangerous game of balancing his pace. Surely, he is in a hurry but he also must stifle his surging anxiety to ensure that he does not draw attention to himself.
He takes a breath of relief when he reaches Manfredi and Johnson. They are still very much gathering their barings. However, this feeling of relief is fleeting.
"Psst! Manfredi, Johnson!" Skipper whispers urgently.
"It's Boris, remember?" Manfredi places a flipper on his hip. What's the point of even crafting a backstory if no one will roll with it.
"What's wrong, kid?" Johnson stops what he's doing.
"The Danes. The agency. They're here!" Skipper is frantic.
Manfredi and Johnson glance over to the door. It appears neither the agents nor the tiger are standing there anymore. That's either good or really, really bad. As they scan the crowd, it appears to be the latter. The tiger seems to be leading the agents directly to them.
"Let's get going." Johnson whispers, placing a flipper on Skipper's back. It slightly begins pushing him towards the exit.
Just as this happens. The tiger interrupts them. "Excuse me, Mr. Douglas. I hate to bother you, but these gentlemen would like to have a word with you and your associates."
Skipper instantly turns to see them all. They're close now. Instantly, he makes direct eye contact with Hans. Skipper's eyes grow wide in fear. Immediately, Hans recognizes him. The puffin smirks, as he believes he now has Skipper cornered. It is finally time to finish this once and for all. In putting Skipper away, or worse, he could finally rest assured that his own crimes will never be uncovered.
"Evac!" Johnson gives the signal. It's not much of a plan but it's something.
The trio takes off in a flash. Their odds of outrunning such a large beast and highly trained agents is low. Or, it would be if they didn't have Skipper on their side. They slide directly beneath tables and in between patrons. As a matter of fact, they haphazardly knock a few of them over. Most of Skipper's disguise goes flying off behind him. There is no concealing his identity anymore. Just as the foes are gaining on them, Skipper purposefully topples a table over. It sends shrimp flying up into the air and landing down on the agents like a seafood monsoon.
This gives them enough of an advantage to evacuate the factory. Racing through the streets of Kolkata, the three are in a desperate race for their lives. Surely, if any of them got caught, it would be a long time before they were able to wander around again. Perhaps, that was most true for Skipper. That is why he is the most frantic out of the bunch. Normally, getting chased by foes might be exciting for the penguin, but this time, it is downright terrifying.
Even though they had lost sight of their pursuers, Skipper is still on edge. Now standing on the border of a jungle, they are in tall grass. It is a rather terrific hiding spot. Other than having to watch out for the grazing elephants, it seems that they are homefree.
"All right, pal, you're fine." Johnson is a little taken back by Skipper's reaction.
He's still worked up in a tizzy, looking over his shoulders and peaking through the grass.
"We're safe now, Skipper. You can relax." Manfredi tries to pacify him.
"But what if they're still out there? What if they're hiding in the grass, just waiting to get the jump on us?" Skipper places his flippers on his beak.
Manfredi and Johnson exchange glances. They've never seen Skipper like this.
"You're real paranoid, aren't you?" Johnson asks. "All those months living on the lam must've really gotten to you."
"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm - " Skipper wraps his flippers around himself to try and calm himself down. He is embarrassed for making such a scene. This isn't how he wants to appear in front of his friends. He's strong, tough - not some simpering coward.
"Are you sure?" Manfredi is still concerned. This isn't like Skipper to act this way. Maybe all their schemes are weighing on him.
"Yeah," Skipper shakes himself out of it literally. And it's as if he's back to normal. "Just had to blow off some steam."
"Okay…" Manfredi is not so convinced. Standing next to Johnson, he looks over at him as if to say he told him so.
"Exactly!" Johnson looks back at the elephant standing behind him. He is directly in front of one of its towering feet. "And if anything were to go wrong, we can ride one of these bad boys away."
And with that, he slaps the elephant's foot. What he doesn't realize is that it was never an elephant standing behind him. It just so happened to be a decoy, a trap. The hollow replica elephant had been filled with a several smoke bombs and a net. And the sheer force of his sudden slap is enough to send it into an instant combustion.
Smoke fills the air, as Skipper struggles to breathe and see. The reaction of the dust and smoke is suffocating, as Skipper does his best to bat away the debris. It all happened so fast. He is completely startled and shaken. Amidst the smoke, he can't see a thing. Where are his friends? Where are his friends? He panics. What's happening?
When the smoke clears, Manfredi and Johnson are on the ground. Completely ensnared in a net, they struggle to get out. Without much room, they are on top of one another. This leaves Skipper all by himself. Just as he realizes this whole thing is a trap, a familiar Danish accent taunts him.
"Skipper, the penguin, you are hereby under arrest by the country of Denmark and the Animal Commission Protection Agency. For your crimes against Denmark, you have been declared public enemy number one by the state."
Skipper turns slowly. With shaking flippers, he raises them above his head. So this is how it's all going to end?
"Skipper! Hey, Skipper!" Johnson calls out to the penguin. But his back is turned to them at this point.
"Untie us, Skipper!" Manfredi shouts.
But it appears Skipper is too paralyzed by fear.
"Manfredi and Johnson, you are both wanted for your series of crimes against animals across the globe. Tsk, tsk, tsk, and for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive. Oh my, what a group!" Hans shakes his head in sarcastic sympathy.
Hans places his wings on his hips and smirks at Skipper. "So sorry it has to end this way, palsy walsy. But who knows? You might fare quite well at the gulag."
He then gestures for his team to apprehend Skipper. However, the approaching of the agents, instinctually sends Skipper into fight mode. In yet another frenzy, he unfreezes and grabs one agent by the flipper. Given the sudden change in demeanor, it takes the agent by surprise. Due to this, Skipper is able to put all of his might into lifting the agent off of the ground and swinging him into the other approaching agent.
The collision sends both of them flying far out into the brush. Skipper doesn't have much time to rest, as the remainder of the agents come at him with full force. This penguin is dangerous and they now know that more than ever. He shows that it is a mistake to ever cross him. This is especially true in his riled up state. The remaining three penguins are punched, kicked, slapped, and thrown to the side as if they were nothing but paperdolls. Skipper's style of fighting is much more feral at this moment. It is a terrifying sight to witness, even for Manfredi and Johnson, and especially for Hans.
Pretty soon it is just Skipper and Hans. Skipper glares down his foe as they are the last two standing. Now it's time for him to get his revenge. There is nothing but pure rage and hatred in his eyes as he takes a step towards Hans. Hans had taken everything from him - his dream, his reputation, and more importantly, the only family he had. Now it is his chance to end this here and now. The hunter and hunted have switched positions. Hans is completely at his mercy.
Instead of facing him in this state, Hans panics and takes off running. Skipper growls and contemplates running after him. It's as if he has lost track of what he is doing. All that he is focused on in that moment is revenge.
"Skipper!" Manfredi cries.
"Earth to Skipper!" Johnson calls out.
Hearing their voices from behind him, causes him to immediately freeze. He doesn't recognize them at first. Are there more Danes? More agents here to come and take him away? No, he can't let that happen.
Skipper spins around and prepares to fight. He lands, with a fist inches from Manfredi's face. It appears the two penguins had managed to escape the netting. Manfredi immediately winces, as Skipper stops. What is he doing? How could he have almost hurt his friend? Why was he fighting the agents he had once trained with?
"Hey, hey," Johnson tries to calm Skipper, he extends a flipper out. "It's okay. It's us. They're gone."
At first, Skipper doesn't say anything. He lowers his stance and scans the area once more. Despite Johnson's guarantee, he is still very much shaken.
"They're gone?" He repeats, his voice trembling.
"Oh," Manfredi gasps. "You're shaking."
"Are you hurt anywhere?" Johnson doesn't know what to say. He had never seen Skipper react that way. Turns out Skipper could get rather aggressive when his life was in danger. It was a handy skill to have, but the after effects were difficult to watch.
Skipper just shakes his head.
"C'mon, let's get you somewhere safe." Manfredi puts a flipper around Skipper, ushering him away.
Now, hours later, the three penguins have made their way to safety. Just as Skipper had wanted, they made it to Mathura. Johnson had managed to sneak them into a rather nice hotel. So that Skipper could get a better view of the lights, Manfredi insisted that they spend the evening out on the rooftop. Skipper, who is still practically catatonic from earlier, acquiesced.
Skipper sits alone, overlooking the lights, while Manfredi and Johnson are farther back. It seems they are having a rather important conversation. He stares out over the lights, silently and solemnly revisiting the events from earlier. The end of everything had been so close. What might be even more terrifying is what he was capable of to prevent that. In the end, Hans was right. He is a criminal. He may not have been before Denmark, but he is now. Though Manfredi and Johnson are trying to keep their voices low, Skipper is listening in. While they were his friends, he still doesn't like the idea of a hushed conversation going on around him. Are they going to try to get rid of him? Maybe he's too much of a risk. His presence could be a liability. With these possibilities in mind, Skipper is hypervigilant.
"You really think he's going to be okay with that?" Johnson asks in a hush.
"Sh," Manfredi urges him to lower his voice. He glances over at Skipper, who is still looking at the lights. "He's got to be. We have no other choice."
"I guess you were right about these things changing him, huh?" Johnson sighs.
"It's for the best. And who knows, we might like the change of pace." Manfredi suggests. "So, we're in agreement?"
"Yeah," Johnson nods. His flipper is forced.
Skipper pretends as if he were not listening in, when they approach him. Manfredi places a flipper on his shoulder to check on him. Johnson tends to hang back a bit more, casually overlooking the city with him. So this is when they leave him too, huh? Skipper prepares himself.
"Skipper, we've been talking." Manfredi starts. "And we think it might be best that we lay low for a while."
"It's not exactly safe for any of us to be wandering around anymore. Well, with your record - " Johnson is cut short by an elbow to the ribs from Manfredi. "And with us, getting older."
"Okay, so we'll go on fewer missions?" Skipper looks up at them confused. This isn't the conversation he thought they'd be having.
"Not exactly," Johnson sighs.
"We've been looking into options for us - places we could live. The Central Park Zoo looks like it's gathering more penguins." Manfredi calmly explains.
"A zoo?" Skipper stands up. This is even worse than them leaving him behind. "But you hate the thought of living in a zoo. Don't you remember when you said you'd never want to perform for humans, Johnson?"
"Yeah, but…" Johnson looks at Manfredi, before answering. He sighs. "We don't have much of a choice now."
"Hey, and we'll make the most of it. Who says we can't have fun in our… What's it called again? Our Enclosure?" Manfredi tries to lighten the mood.
"Our cage." Johnson huffs.
"This is my fault." Skipper says, coming to a realization.
"No, no, this isn't your fault at all." Manfredi can sense Skipper is getting worked up again.
"Yeah, we've been talking about this for a month at least." Johnson doesn't want the kid to blame himself.
"No, you're only doing this because I put you in danger." Skipper steps back. "If - if they had never come for me today, you wouldn't be doing this."
"But think of how nice it'll be. Scheduled feeding times, maybe a nice pool to swim in. No predators." Manfredi persuades.
"I'm putting you in danger, aren't I? I - I'm a hazard. I'm a criminal." Skipper shrinks, retreating deeper inside himself.
"Hey, we're all criminals here if that makes you feel any better." Johnson shrugs.
"We'll leave in the morning for New York City." Manfredi gets back to the point. "And once we get there, you won't have to worry about Hans or Denmark again."
Skipper had really done it this time. This isn't like either of them to suggest settling down and living in a zoo. What kind of life had he sentenced them to? They were doing just fine before they met him, just like Sam, like his parents. Everyone was so much better off, before he came into their lives. He has to face it, the common denominator in all of these situations is him. He's the problem, the burden. His mother never came back from fishing, when she only went out to feed him. After that, his father couldn't even stand to be around him.
And now that he is gone, Sam is probably so much happier. But for Manfredi and Johnson, it was too late. He had already drug them down with him. Yes, how could he not see this all along? How could he keep making the same mistakes again and again? He was putting everyone in danger. If someone didn't betray him, they were sure to face the consequences. He is a curse. At least, this is what his insecurities and anxiety tell him at the moment.
"Let's get some sleep, Skipper." Johnson pats Skipper on the shoulder before heading back inside. Sure, he didn't want to go to a zoo, but he felt bad for the kid. Clearly, after today, he can't continue surviving this way. They had to make a change. It would be for the best.
While Manfredi and Johnson are fast asleep, Skipper lays awake. He never wanted any of this. However, it seems like he didn't have much of a choice. His father was right. This is a cold, cruel world. Hans was right. Some were never meant to be heroes. It seems he was born to be a burden. And as long as he was on the run, he continued to be a danger to everyone he cared about. This wasn't the life he envisioned for himself at all. Yet these were the cards he had been dealt. Even before his friends had fallen asleep, Skipper knew he had no intentions of traveling with them to New York. His mind was made up. Using his stealth, Skipper creeps out of the room and flees into the night.
[To Be Continued]