Skipper's Log. 02:00 hours on August the fifteenth.

"Manfredi came into our room earlier tonight after being missing for the majority of the past week. He gave us the heads up on what our mission is going to be from about two weeks from now. It's odd of him to do that, because us soldiers have been kept in the dark for the most part since we first heard about us going into combat. I don't know if he could get into trouble for what he told us, but it is most likely that he will if he gets caught. Disclosing classified information to unauthorized personnel is an offense worthy of the firing line, apparently.

"What he explained to us was not what I was expecting, however. At the end of the month we're all going to stow away on a British science vessel headed to Antarctica to do research. There we're going to infiltrate a penguin colony that, according to Manfredi's superiors, is aiming a weapon of mass destruction directly at us.

"What weapon of mass destruction he means, I haven't the slightest clue. I have heard stories of the humans creating weapons powerful enough to destroy entire cities in a matter of seconds. I'm pretty sure they were called nukes or something. But fish and chips, entire cities!

"I couldn't help but notice how shaken up Manfredi was. He looks like he hasn't slept in ages, and based on his bloodshot eyes and short temper that very well might be true. I remember him mentioning something about being from Antarctica on the way over here when we were stuffed up into that crate. I can't recall what connections he had, but an assault on his homeland is something to be upset about. I'm going to try to bring it up next time we speak, if we even speak before we head out to England. I will need to be careful about it though, I would rather not get put on the firing line if said information is classified. Or get Manfredi put on the firing line for that matter.

"Either way, I have a feeling something is not right."

The Speed of Darkness
Chapter 20 - Reunion

AT THAT MOMENT, HE HELD ALL OF THE CARDS AND NONE OF THEM AT ALL.

He held the other penguin's life in his hands, like a hand of cards. He held the dagger in his flipper. The other penguin was defenseless; unconscious. He held all of the cards. And yet, the penguin was innocent. He had once been very close to that penguin, and he had done nothing to deserve death. For this reason, Manfredi held none of the cards at all.

He sat in the corner of a dark alcove created by two dumpsters and a plain brick wall. It was the kind of place nobody would ever think to look in. The concrete he now sat on had probably not been seen by anyone else for several years. A forgotten place, he thought, but yet so valuable to him.

It was here, in this alleyway, he had murdered a poor, innocent pigeon only a month ago. The pigeon had probably been a brother, a husband; a father. He had let his rage for his target consume him and he unleashed it. He was a heartless murderer, he had convinced himself. That was okay, though, because he had already lost his heart ages ago when he let his loved ones die.

A thin sliver of moonlight fell across his face, glinting off the cold, metal plates that covered the side of his head. The light illuminated his flipper, silently twirling the twisted, metal dagger. He didn't look at it, though; it was much too familiar to him. His eyes were focused on the huddled mass of feathers sprawled out on the cold concrete opposite him in the alcove. The sliver of moonlight fell on this body, too.

Manfredi had spent all of his time since Johnson's death tracking down the penguin that lay now on the ground in front of him. He had spent much too time to just accept that he had been on the trail of the wrong penguin this whole time. In searching for an enemy had found a friend. He had no reason to kill the penguin on the ground. He had no reason to kill him when he had his chance while they were struggling in the bunker. Manfredi had fled that place after he had realized he was looking into the eyes of Skipper, his old teammate. He was trying to forget the past—not return to it.

After he had fled the bunker he had aimlessly wandered around the city, searching for any clue that would lead him to his true target. The one that had killed Johnson and had duped Skipper and himself into believing they were 'valiant soldiers' when they were actually just being turned into murderers. Murderers that would do anything to please their corrupt leaders.

He had seen Skipper wandering up an abandoned street only a few hours ago. Manfredi had been curled up in a decent sized hole in the wall of a crumbling building when Skipper walked by. Even though the leader penguin seemed to be distracted, he checked over his shoulder every three seconds. Even though, Manfredi had not been noticed. Thinking he had seen his target, Manfredi had not wasted a second and charged Skipper, pummeling him to the ground. The penguin had not fought back when Manfredi slammed him unconscious. Manfredi was proud for a moment—but when he realized that he had just attacked Skipper and not his target, he panicked.

The robot penguin dragged Skipper into the nearest alleyway he could find. Ironically, after noticing a familiar bloodstain on the concrete, he realized it was the same alleyway he had killed the pigeon in. A cold shiver ran down his spine, but he continued to drag Skipper into a dark corner.

So now he said, moonlight glinting off his metal plates as well as the twisted dagger in his hands. Many memories came to him as he sat there staring at Skipper, sprawled out in the corner just as Manfredi had left him. He remembered the first time he had met Skipper, and Johnson for that matter, cramped into a little cargo box on some plane to Denmark. He was young then, he thought, and now he was old. Before the only death he had seen was his uncle Fredrick being pulled under the ice by a lion seal. He remembered how the red water bubbled to the surface moments later. Now, as an old penguin, he had seen, and caused, much more death. More blood in the water, he thought.

He remembered constructing a bunker on the outskirts of the military base with Skipper. Johnson was forced to clean dishes at that time. He recalled filling it with fish with Skipper and Johnson after learning that it was actually a giant ice box. He remembered smuggling some of those fish into their room with Skipper when fish rations were decreased. He remembered getting promoted to Corporal, how proud he was on that day. Corporal Manfredi. It was a fitting title, he thought at the time. He remembered learning about the Penguin Army's true plans, about their leader Dr. Blowhole, and about his Sargent Major's dark secrets. He remembered teaming up with Skipper and Johnson and trying everything in their power to stop the invasion of Antarctica...

He winced as though someone had just jabbed him in the chest. Those were painful memories to dig up. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain originating from his flipper; he had accidentally cut himself with the twisted dagger.

Before he could reminisce any longer, though, the penguin laying across from him began to stir.

Manfredi wasn't sure what to do. Should he knock Skipper back out in case Skipper tried to run? Should he just let him run? Why would Skipper want to run? Why was he afraid of Skipper running? Was it because he was afraid to let anything else close to him go? He shook his head, remembering that he had already bound Skipper to the nearby dumpster.

Skipper slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his flippers. His vision was blurry and he felt disorientated. He rolled himself over onto his back and rubbed his face with his flippers. It wasn't for a full minute that he noticed the half-metal, half-feathered face staring back at him. Skipper made no reaction as he remembered what had occurred earlier in the night. It was only the two unreadable facades looking at each other, not a hint of emotion from either of them.

"Manfredi," Skipper said under his breath, "fish and chips, man, it's really you."

The penguin across from didn't react. Skipper attempted to stand up, only to realize his foot was tied tightly to the base of a dumpster. Some silence passed.

"Why did you attack me?" Skipper finally asked. "Twice?" he added.

Manfredi waited a few moments before responding. He spoke with a deep, slow tone of voice, yet very steady. "For Johnson," he said simply.

"What do you mean 'For Johnson'? Why would Johnson want you to attack me?" Skipper responded calmly.

"I did not want to attack you, Skipper."

"But you did?"

"Let me explain. Twice now I have mistaken you for someone else. My true target, the one who took the lives of Johnson, my child, and" he seemed to cringe, "Sarah, is in this city somewhere. Our paths have merely crossed... somewhat inconveniently."

Skipper gave this a thought. "So, Johnson is gone?"

"Yes."

"How did he die?"

Manfredi held up the crooked dagger that he had been toying with, Skipper failing to notice it before. It reflected some moonlight into Skipper's eyes and made him squint. "He was stabbed in the back with this. Right in front of me."

Skipper's eyes grew wide. "You almost stabbed me with that dagger the other night..."

"Yes, I know. I am saving it for my target. There is not a more proper death for him other than to be stabbed with his own weapon."

"And you thought I was your target..."

Manfredi nodded.

"You thought I was your target when you knocked me out, too?"

Another nod.

"How do you keep confusing me for your target so much? Who is your target anyway? Who killed Johnson?" Skipper asked.

"I am not sure if you remember our Sargent Major. He was a shorter fellow that looked kind of like you. Went by the name of Sarge."

Skipper rubbed his beak in thought. "Yes, I do remember." he said as faint memories came back to him. "although my memory is failing me."

"Back in Denmark we always used to mention how he looked just like you, do you remember that?"

"Yeah, sort of," Skipper responded

"Over the past few years Sarge has grown to look more and more like you, whether it is natural or he is modifying his own appearance, I do not know."

"So our old Sargent major was the one who killed Johnson," Skipper said to himself, then asked, "How in the seven seas did you get into that situation?"
Manfredi closed his eyes, leaned back, and let out a tired sigh. "You ask many questions, Skipper."

Skipper arched a brow. "Yeah?"

"You fail to notice that I may have some of my own."

"Oh. Well, ask away I guess."

Manfredi nodded. "What are you doing in a zoo? You told me once that you rather die then be held in one of those prisons."

Skipper thought for a minute before responding. "Well, after you ran into that crumbing building all those years ago... I mean, you remember that, right?" Manfredi offered an understanding nod. "Yeah, after that I was not sure where to go. I became lost. I hopped boats, planes, cars; anything I could find. I had no idea where I was going. Eventually I found myself in New York and I blacked out from hunger. Next thing I remember I woke up in a zoo with a bowl full of fish. Times change, I guess."

Manfredi facial expression didn't change at Skipper's story. Skipper couldn't help but feel like that was the story he was expecting.

"When I was in your... habitat... There were three other penguins with you. They were organized like soldiers. Why?" Manfredi asked, continuing to finger the dagger without removing his eyes from Skipper.

"Well, uh," Skipper didn't know why he felt uncomfortable all of the sudden. The rope around his foot seemed to grow tighter. "Those are my... cell mates." he let out an awkward chuckle.

"Yes, I understand. Though that doesn't explain why they are organized like a military operation. You had them lined up like they were on role call."

Skipper's heart beat a little faster. Damn it, why did Manfredi, even after all these years, still have the ability to make him feel this uncomfortable. "Old habits die hard, I guess," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

Manfredi nodded. Skipper felt relieved that he understood.

"Besides, we've been in many situations where having teammates trained as well as soldiers has come in handy."

\ "Oh?"

"Yeah, like that one time, actually two times, we had to fight this mutated rat creature from the sewers. That was intense. Then there was the time we had to track down a raccoon who was stealing all our stuff from the zoo, and the other time our friend went crazy and we had to capture her."

As Skipper talked Manfredi's expression did not change. The strange events that he was talking about would normally cause the other person to ask more questions, but Manfredi did not.

A few moments of silence passed between the two, broken only by a far off police siren. "So, Manfredi," Skipper started, "Why am I tied to this dumpster? I can't even get up."

Manfredi sighed and looked at the ground. The action made him look very tired, almost like an old man. He slowly got up from his box and waddled over to Skipper. Suddenly, he gripped the handle of the dagger tightly and swung his flipper though the air. Skipper flinched, thinking for a second that twisted blade of the dagger might be directed at him. He opened his eyes to see Manfredi with his back turned to him, the robe that was binding his foot to the dumpster cleanly slashed apart. He removed the remains of the rope from his foot and then stood, brushing off his feathers.

"I need your help, Skipper." Manfredi said, sounding very tired.

/AN: What can I say, it has been a while. Enjoyed writing again, though, may get back into it. Please review if you enjoyed this chapter! :AN\