At the age of two, Private was very curious.

Naturally, some things cannot be explained in this world. Private knew that now, but years ago, he was blissfully unaware.

The things he thought he could explain now were the things he wished never existed.

"Why is the sky blue?" he had once asked Kowalski. "And why not red, or green?"

Kowalski dutifully answered, "Sunlight reaches Earth's atmosphere and is scattered in all directions by all the gases and reflective particles in the air. All types of light are scattered in all directions by the tiny molecules of air in Earth's atmosphere, but blue is scattered more than other colors because it travels as shorter, smaller waves. This is why we see a blue sky most of the time."

Another time he had asked his brother; "How do the Lunacorns get on the TV?" He had been answered in a similar manner.

Kowalski was very down-to-earth. He was prideful and self-aware, almost to the point of obsession.

"Übermensch," he had called it. "I want to be the supreme being. I want to be the best I can possibly be. That's why I joined the Penguin army."

"But doesn't being an Oomerbench mean you'd have to be better than all of us, then?"

"It very well may mean that, Private." Kowalski chuckled, not unkindly. "But becoming an Übermensch is just a goal, something that you only wish you can attain. At the end of the day, it'll still be something I'll be striving to achieve." He reached out and playfully ruffled the other penguin's feathers. "Just like your dream of making friends with everyone in the world, right? There's a very small chance that you'll ever be able to get to that goal, but you keep trying, don't you? You're kind and considerate, and you stand up for what you believe in.

"Private, in my absolute, honest opinion, you are an Übermensch."

Private had tilted his small head and gazed up at his big brother with big, questioning eyes. "But you're better than me!"

"Thank you Private, that really means a lot."

As Private stood across from Amarillo Kid, he thought of his family back at the zoo. Even in his childhood, he had admired all of his brothers, Kowalski especially. They were superheroes to him, gigantic, unconquerable forces that could never be stopped. Now he knew better.

They could be stopped. In numerous ways. They were cracked, broken, vulnerable.

They were a bomb made of glass.

Bombs are destined to go off.

Glass is destined to shatter.

We are all destined to die.

Private didn't want to die.

"What are you doing here? Are you the one who's taken me captive?"

The armadillo snorted. "Naw. I'm just here to mosey around and dance the Texas Two-Step!"

"What?" Private took what he hoped was a threatening step toward the Kid. "Heck is your problem?"

"Woah! Sarcasm, pardner! Ever heard of it? No, I ain't gonna do nothing to ya. I'm stuck in this hellhole, same as you, Mr. Tux."

Private's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why would they put you in here, Amarillo Kid?"

"I dunno." He wrinkled his small nose. "And why's you gotta keep calling me that stupid name?"

"What? Amarillo Kid? That's your name, isn't it?"

Another snort, this time louder and more deliberate. "Kids back in Waco called me Hank."

Private stood up straight and marched over to the desert animal. "Tell me the truth, you idiot! Or was that sarcasm as well?"

"Woah, easy now. I ain't here to give you a hard time, like I did back in Austin. No siree, I'm here to give you a proposition." He cleared his throat and added: "Yeah, my momma did name me Hank."

Private considered that for a moment. The events at Fairway 18 had made the Amarillo Kid seem like he had turned over a new leaf, but he wanted to be sure before he made any promises he couldn't keep.

"I'll listen to what you have to say. But I'm not making any promises." He paused for a second, then added: "Hank."

The penguins had taken a whole boat.

Kowalski chuckled to himself. New York City had multiple ports, and even though security cameras were installed in the harbor, they were basic and easy to tamper with. Within a matter of minutes, the cameras were all off and the trio had secured a whole luxury yacht.

His hard drive had been corrupted by the Central virus as well. Kowalski tried not to think about that.

He hadn't gotten any sleep, as the choppy waters of the bay had rocked the boat to and fro. Rico was sleeping soundly in a plush seat below deck, and Skipper was steering their ship, on the opposite end of the boat from where Kowalski now stood, deep in thought.

Pushing aside his emotions had been hard. Extremely hard. Private was like a brother to him- making an irrational decision might have caused Private's death. He now felt that he had a small grasp of how hard Skipper's job was every day. Kowalski understood it now.

Rico was wise beyond his seemingly mindless cover. He had already experienced the pain of coping with his decisions, back in Guatemala, when he had left the love of his life to save his brothers. Kowalski knew his angst was not ill-felt.

He dreaded the day when Private would have to make a choice like his. He seemed too innocent to have anything to do with things like killing someone or choosing whether to retreat or to fight.

The day when Private would make a difficult choice was the day when Private would have grown up. Involuntarily, of course.

He still had to admit that Private's innocence had grown on him.

"Thinking, soldier?"

"Oh- Hello, sir." Kowalski looked up at the moon. It offered not even the faintest of smiles.

"Yup." Skipper sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "You were definetly thinking. No worries, I turned off the engine. No sense in wasting precious fuel when the waves can just carry us to Antarctica."

"Skipper..." He trailed off, transfixed by the huge, towering masses of cloud in the distance. "I think I made the right choice."

When his commander didn't say anything, he continued, still staring beyond the horizon. "Just staying where we were at the zoo wouldn't have helped us at all. We'll actually have a chance at getting to those files if we head to Central. And even if that doesn't work out, Central's labs have everything I would need to build something that could bring my memories back... right?" He glanced nervously at Skipper, his throat as dry as sandpaper.

"Right." Skipper's face was emotionless now, and Kowalski silently admired his ability to seemingly turn off as his feeling and stare anything down with that stone-cold expression.

"Sir, I need your approval. Did I screw everything up?" He was now resisting the urge to fall to Skipper's feet and sob.

"Will Private die because of me?" Skipper flinched, and Kowalski knew he had gotten somewhere. "Will you blame me when you find out?"

"No."

Skipper's voice, clear and calm, cut through his lieutenant's words. "No, Kowalski. I truly believe in you. And, like I said before, in the event that we lose one of our men, we will resume our missions promptly."

Somehow, Kowalski wasn't so sure that Skipper was telling the truth. But before he could argue, Skipper made his way to the underside of the ship.

"Go to sleep, soldier. We'll discuss this in the morning."

Kowalski heard Skipper's voice resonate through his head as he stared at the spot where he once stood.

All was silent except for the distant boom of thunder.

And then Kowalski realized what he had overlooked.

Oh noes! What did Kowalski do? Here's a hint- it's got to do with thunder and big, puffy clouds.

Yet another angsty chapter, I know. But Hank is purdy cool! And I hope I didn't use too harsh of a Texan stereotype for the Amarillo Kid, I'm Texan and I didn't offend myself. There's a start.

Thanks to all the reviewers... Guess what I just realized? This story broke 500 views and has 16 reviews! OMG! *squeal* Yay! Words can't describe how much these reviews and these favorites mean to me!

Have a good rest of the day!