Chapter 1: Chosen

No one really knows all the details on how it happened.

It was about twenty-three years ago when he — after several failed attempts — finally won. It had been the most unexpected occurrence, for evil to win. For all that is good and still bearing the last embers of what had been happiness to at last be at its knees — it was unimaginable. But it was real. And anyone who was stupid enough to try to fight it would be sentenced to death immediately without a trial, and without negotiation.

Now, the one creature above all of mankind and every other living thing, is Emperor Blowhole — heir to Dr. Francis Blowhole, who had been the one to officially end everything humane and build his empire in the spitting image of hell. And under him, was his General, Hanne, daughter of Dr. Blowhole's General, Hans. It was the distant year 2047, and Emperor Blowhole and General Hanne had sucked every bit of pure happiness from the world. Nothing remained but the sadistic pleasure of their power and the misery of the commoners.

When Dr. Blowhole took control, the humans were utterly astounded. A dolphin taking over the world? It seemed like something that would only happen in a movie or a carefully thought out fan fiction. But, of course, nothing is ever as it seems. Indeed, the human race and every other being was ruled over by a demonic, power-hungry sea mammal.

In the heart of New York City, Emperor Blowhole's lair loomed up into the deep red sky and threatened to swallow you whole if you were unlucky enough to enter. Emperor Blowhole had his minions stationed all over the world — mainly the larger animal species — to overpower the few humans that remained and the rest of the animal existence. One may wonder why anyone would want to serve under such a sadistic monster. The answer is simpler than you think.

There are only two ways one can serve directly under Emperor Blowhole. You could be chosen by the behemoth himself, and if you don't devote your loyalty to him truthfully and whole-heartedly, you are brainwashed until you do. Or you're a sadistic, heartless monster already and you take an oath willingly after you are given a test of loyalty from his majesty. Those who do so wear red arm bands to represent their cachet.

Emperor Blowhole stood on his Segway in a room filled with television screens, each changing the footage every minute or so on an endless loop. Each screen showed a different place in the world — Beijing, Honolulu, Tokyo, Chicago, you name it — where unfortunate souls were forced to perform a variety of tasks for their master. From making weapons for his army to serving food to his army, each and every living and breathing thing on Earth was under Emperor Blowhole's command — an impressive feat. His eyes flitted from screen to screen with a perverse grin pulling from earhole to earhole, a smile that had once brought pain to his cheeks which he had long forgotten for he wore it so often. General Hanne appeared at his side, mirroring his expression almost sickeningly identical.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked softly as if watching the birth of a child, not taking her eyes off of the scenes that lay before her. Her Danish accent mirrored her father's perfectly.

Blowhole's smile would have stretched even wider if his facial muscles hadn't already been forced to their limit.

"Indeed it is," he answered in a stomach-churning fiendish hiss.

Hanne's eyes flitted to one screen which suddenly indicated an alert and she hit a button on the control panel in front of her, pulling that footage to the larger screen above the smaller ones.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here," she said with wild eyes studying the scene before her. Emperor Blowhole followed her gaze and chuckled.

"It's so amusing when they think they can fight it. When they think they can actually get away," he said in a tone one would take with a toddler.

On the screen, a penguin was making a break for it. He had almost made it when one of the minions shot him in the leg, causing him to throw himself forward and belly-slide toward the jungles of Madagascar. The two large gorillas who'd been firing at him in attempts to stop him bounded forward and all fours. Hanne zoomed in just as the penguin plunged into the greenery and into the jungle beyond. The gorillas did not give up so easily. Hanne switched views to a camera that showed the next events that unraveled before her and her first in command.

The penguin pulled a vine across the path just as the gorillas bounded into the shrubs, causing them to stumble face-forward into the hard ground. The penguin did not waste a single moment before he dove forward for the forty-caliber pistol that had flown from one of the gorillas' grasp upon making contact with the ground. Once his flippers found the trigger, he put a bullet in each of the gorillas' heads without hesitation and took off into the jungle, not caring about what lay in wait for him.

Hanne's expression had turned from a sadistic happiness to a feral form of fury. She turned to Blowhole to ask what they were going to do about this, but halted when she saw that Blowhole still wore that horrible, horrible smile on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked in a bewildered tone, her Danish accent much stronger now that she was angry.

"Because, Hanne, anyone clever enough to find a way to escape my guards and kill without hesitation is perfect for our army. All we need to do is find him and have him brought here," Blowhole answered.

Hanne shook her head. "Are you sure about this, Emperor? If he's clever enough to find a way past the guards, he might inspire others to do the same. Do you really want to take that risk?" she asked apprehensively.

"Do you dare question my authority, Hanne?" Though Blowhole couldn't seem to wipe that smirk off his face, you could hear the irritation in his tone and see the fury burning in his deep sapphire eyes. Hanne — knowing immediately that defying his orders would mean losing her position as second in command and possibly her life — shook her head and stood upright.

"No, sir. A thousand apologies," she said, staring dead into his gaze, which few could do without being sentenced to death.

"Good," Blowhole said, pressing a button on his Segway, which caused a microphone to emerge from its top. After dialing a number, he was in communication with his Colonel in Madagascar.

"Colonel Evans, it is I, your Emperor," Blowhole said into the microphone.

"Bonjour, monsieur. What is your reason for calling today?" Evans replied in his thick French accent.

"There's a penguin that has escaped into the jungles. Find him and bring him to me. Bring him to me alive," Blowhole ordered.

"Oui, it shall be done, monsieur," Evans said.

"Good. And don't disappoint me," Blowhole said in a threatening tone.

"Non, no worries."

Blowhole chuckled and disconnected the line. Hanne broke the short-lived silence that followed.

"What do we do now?" Hanne asked.

Blowhole turned to the monitors and answered without looking back.

"Now, we wait."

— § —

20 minutes ago

In Madagascar, there are large, mountainous forests that are extremely dangerous to go into alone. But when you're being forced to do the work of the most demented, ruthless, tyrannical being on Earth, you'd be willing to charge into the highest category of hurricane if there was even the slightest chance of survival to escape it.

SJ hoisted his ax above his head and brought it down into the rock, seemingly soundless as its echo quickly blended in with the endless chinks of metal-on-rock that continued around him as other commoners hacked away at the stone. He'd gotten used to the shock of the strike after seven years of working in the caves, the sounds almost seemed to go right over his head now. Chipping was a job of two purposes: to find minerals or precious metals, or to pick away scraps of rock to be used to make weapons. You were administered a test to determine the task you would have to fulfill for the rest of your life unless told otherwise by the Emperor himself. Children were usually either ripped from their parents from a young age – basically whatever age they became useful enough – or orphaned.

Orphans are actually more common than you may think. Commoners were murdered by the thousands each week by Emperor Blowhole's army worldwide, leaving thousands more children without a parent.

SJ was an orphan. He never knew his parents. All he knew was that they died in November of 2024 when Dr. Blowhole rose to power when he was only five months old. He hadn't met anyone who'd known them, so his history was just a black, forgotten void that remained lost in the back of his mind. But it was something he'd learned to accept a long time ago. In fact, he wasn't one hundred percent sure what SJ stood for. He was told once before he was removed from foster care, but they told him to never tell anyone, though wouldn't explain why. He decided it best to follow the advice given the circumstances he was born into.

Whenever animals were old enough to learn, but not quite old enough to work, they were forced to attend a school where they lived on campus and learned how to abide by the laws and the consequences if one didn't. You were hardened and indoctrinated into slaves and never got to see a proper childhood. The word child wasn't even really used anymore – usually just the term young or the like. In this world, real children didn't exist.

When you were a baby or otherwise too young to learn, you were cared for by your parents or by foster care. Most children never see their parents again once they're sent to PODS — Premature Obedience and Development School. Once you're old enough to be useful, you start work. Of course, that depended on the species.

SJ had a decision to make. He could either wake up every morning at 0600 and chip away at stone nonstop until 1900 with hardly any breaks for the rest of his life, or he could try to escape. He could answer that question in a heartbeat. Ever since he'd started working at sixteen, he'd been drawing a mental map of the area he resided in. He could walk the whole place backwards and in his sleep. He had every detail memorized and knew exactly what to expect.

SJ moved closer to the opening of the cave and looked at the position of the sun, which indicated that it was about 1233 hours, and left the mines for his ten minute lunch break. He'd been planning this for weeks. He wasn't sure if it was going to work, but he was going to at least die trying. He set his pickaxe on the rack outside and hung his hardhat on the hook next to it. He then set off down the courtyard, past the break area, and stopped when he was about one hundred feet from the town limit.

The town limit was the forest that lay beyond into the unknown. There have been few attempts to escape, and none have been successful. SJ looked around. About thirty yards away, there were two guards. Both were big gorillas that reminded him of a muscular green figure he'd seen in a faded image on a scrap of cloth labeled "Hulk."

After a few moments, the mine he'd left exploded from the inside, sending rock and shrapnel everywhere.

He saw his chance in the confused chaos that erupted and he took it, taking off toward the forest. Unfortunately, the gorillas noticed immediately and started after him, one raising his weapon and firing. The bullet caught SJ in the leg and he stumbled forward.

SJ was persistent, though, pushing himself up and throwing himself forward, bellysliding into the jungle. When he broke through the greenery, he veered to the side and grabbed a vine and pulled it with all of his strength just as the guards erupted past the shrub and flew forward — a gun flew from the hand of one and SJ lunged for it. When he found the trigger, he shot both guards in the head and quickly limped off into the jungles.

It was a simple plan, and executed easier than SJ had thought it would be despite his wound. He was that rare commoner that was cunning, decisive, and determined. And, of course, brave enough to actually try to escape. While the mine was clear with everyone at lunch, SJ had rigged a gasoline and an oil lamp to explode. While everyone was distracted, he'd slip away. He just wished he hadn't gotten caught. Knowing Emperor Blowhole the way he did, he knew that they'd be coming after him. And he most certainly wouldn't give up until his head was mounted on a spit and displayed in the courtyard to send a message to others about what happens when you try to escape.

Agonizing pain bolted through his leg with every step he took and snaked up his spine, causing his temperature to rise dangerously. After the adrenaline had worn off, the pain became nearly unbearable. After he'd limped about a quarter of a mile into the jungles, he had to stop to rest. Propping himself against a tree, he took slow, deep breaths. His feathers stuck to his body uncomfortably as the heat rained down and caused him to practically drown in his own sweat. Blood drained from the wound in his leg and it throbbed with each beat of his weakening heart. He looked at the position of the sun again. It'd only been about half an hour since he'd escaped. With the fatigue that the pain had caused him, it felt as if it'd been a few hours. As he turned back toward the jungle, his vision turned hazy and his world started to sway back and forth. He felt himself slipping to the ground until his back finally found the grass, and the gun started slipping from his grip. He watched as the trees above him folded in on each other before everything finally went black.

— § —

SJ gradually started to wake up, pain still throbbing in his leg. Suddenly, his airways became blocked with water and he became immediately aware, coughing and sputtering. He shook the water from his eyes and realized he was sitting on the ground against a post inside some tent, his flippers tied behind his back around it. He looked to his right to see a female African penguin standing next to him with an empty bucket, which she set to the side. He looked to his left and saw an Indri lemur, folding his arms over his chest. He became filled with terror. Blowhole's sols had found him, and now they were going to torture him.

"Wh-what —?"

"Shut up," the penguin snapped, cutting him off, her accent thickly Australian. "We ask the questions. Who are you?"

"M-My name is SJ," he said, looking down at the ground.

"Where did you come from?" she asked.

SJ became confused. Shouldn't they know? "I come from the Antsi village," he answered carefully. "How come you —?"

"Why aren't you there now?" the penguin asked, towering over him with her flippers folded over her chest.

"I . . ." SJ gulped. "I escaped," he said in a small voice.

The penguin made an incredulous face. Then she knelt down and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "Do you take me for a fool? Everyone knows it's impossible to escape those villages alive, not on your own. You're a sol, aren't you? You work for Blowhole and are trying to infiltrate our camp, aren't you?"

SJ became officially flabbergasted. "But . . . aren't you a sol?"

The penguin let go with a shove. "Your turn, Commander," she said, turning sharply on her heel and going to the opening in the tent to wait.

The Indri lemur called Commander approached SJ and knelt down next to him. "We can make this easy for you. Just admit that you're a sol and we can work something out," he said calmly.

SJ shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm not a sol. I really did escape the Antsi village. Please believe me."

Commander laced his fingers. "Really now? And how could you have managed that?" he asked.

"I rigged an oil lamp to explode in the mine I worked at while everyone was at lunch so that no one would get hurt. While everyone was distracted, I escaped. Look," he said, looking down at his leg, "I was even shot while trying to get away."

"And how do we know that's just not a cover story?" Commander asked.

"It's not a cover story. You have to believe me," SJ pleaded. "Who are you people, anyway? If you aren't sols, then —"

"Who we are is none of your concern," the penguin piped up, approaching him again.

"Bloom, go get Sly," Commander ordered. The penguin, now identified as Bloom, left the tent.

SJ watched Commander carefully. "What is this place?" he asked, his breathing shallow and sweat dripping down his face, causing his feathers to stick together.

Commander didn't reply. A moment later, Bloom returned with a gray squirrel, whom SJ assumed was the one called Sly.

"Do your thing," Commander ordered.

Sly knelt down in front of him and set down a burlap bag. SJ swallowed hard as he pulled out a needle and flicked it a few times. Then he sterilized a place on his lower belly and looked at him. "Last chance to tell the truth," he offered.

SJ felt a lump in his throat. "I am. Please believe me," he whimpered.

Sly exhaled and proceeded to stick him. SJ cringed from the pinch and the following burning sensation.

"What was that?" SJ cried out, now terrified and hyperventilating. A few seconds later, he blacked out again.

— § —

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that there was something cold and damp on his forehead. He was awakening gradually when he suddenly was unable to breathe as his airways became spontaneously cold and wet again and was sitting up straight and coughing up water before he even realized he was doing it. When he shook the water from his eyes, his vision started to clear. He pulled the wet cloth off of his head and took in his surroundings. In front of him was a beige cloth that substituted for a wall, and he realized he was in a tent. He looked down at his right leg to see that it was bandaged up and splinted.

"Morning," said a voice to his right.

SJ turned to see the penguin called Bloom standing beside him with an empty wooden bucket sitting on the ground next to her. She stood with her hip cocked and flippers folded over her chest.

"Where am I?" SJ asked.

"You'll find out soon enough, mate," she answered.

"How did I get here? Who are you? What did you do to me?" SJ persisted.

"My name is Blooming Warrior. But everyone calls me Bloom," she replied. "We found you in the woods unconscious and barely hanging on to life. You lost a lot of blood. You would've been dead if we'd have found you any later."

"We?" SJ inquired.

As if on cue, a brown-furred squirrel entered the tent.

"Ah, I see he's awake. How are you feeling?" he asked, his accent similar to Bloom's.

SJ shook his head and looked back to his leg. "I don't really know. I'm just really confused . . . and a little lightheaded," he answered.

"Well, don't worry," the squirrel replied. "You're only lightheaded because you've lost some blood. As for the confusion, we'll clear that up soon enough. First, we need to get you your strength back."

The way SJ was feeling right now, he wasn't sure that was possible. It felt as if he'd just been crushed by a boulder ten times over, then inflated back into his proper form like a balloon.

After the squirrel left, Bloom pulled a small case from under the cot SJ was laying on and laid it on the foot of the cot.

"I need to change your bandages," she explained. After carefully removing the splint and the bandages that were now soaked with blood, she started cleaning his wound.

"Where am I?" he asked finally as Bloom started wrapping his wound in fresh bandages. "What happened to me?"

"Well, mate, you'd better consider yourself lucky. We're known as the RABs," Bloom answered. "Sorry about before, we had to make sure you weren't a spy. Sly had to give you something that would help you be a little more susceptible to the truth."

SJ absorbed what she'd told him, then looked back at her. "The 'RABs'?" he inquired.

"The Rebels Against Blowhole. We work in secret. Once our army is large enough, we're going to revolt. We're either going to succeed or die trying to achieve it," Bloom explained as she fastened a pin on the gauze and started to replace the splint on his leg.

"How do you remain hidden? Isn't Emperor Blowhole's army everywhere?" SJ asked.

"That's just what he wants everyone to think. Imagine the chaos he'd go through if everyone figured out that he couldn't contain every living being on Earth. Only a fool would think that's possible. Yeah, his sols are crawling all over the place, but only where the commoners are. We reside in the deepest parts of the jungle, where it's safest. And if the event ever arises when we do encounter a soldier, there's either enough of us to put them out of their misery or if not, then we have emergency underground hideouts. We hardly need to use them, though," Bloom answered.

"Why don't you tell everyone about this if that would start an uprising with Emperor Blowhole?" SJ asked.

"Because. First off, not everyone out there has any kind of fighting experience. Second, Blowhole's army would have us put back in our places in days. There's no way we stand a chance against him without weapons and training," Bloom answered, pushing the feathers out of her eyes.

"Wouldn't Emperor Blowhole get suspicious if his soldiers spontaneously start disappearing?" SJ inquired, turning around to where his legs hung over the side of the cot after Bloom had completed her work.

Bloom leaned against the foot end of the cot. "Okay, first off, it's unnecessary to refer to him as 'Emperor' Blowhole around here. We don't consider him our Emperor, so we just call him Blowhole," she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice slightly, "and sometimes just Asshole when we're in a good mood," she added with a humorous smile. SJ couldn't help but crack a grin himself, despite the pain that still throbbed in his leg. "Second off, Blowhole couldn't care less about one soldier here and there going missing. Besides, he has so many, he can't even keep track. Our only problem is if we cross one of his second- or third-in-command. But that doesn't happen too often."

"And if you do?"

Bloom laughed. "Well, let's just say we have some mighty fine hypnosis experts around here. You might just start clucking like a chicken if you ever get into an argument with one of them. They're just that good. But don't worry. You can trust them," she assured him. She slid the first aid kit back under the cot and grabbed a crutch. "Come on, dinner will be ready soon," she informed him, handing him the crutch.

"Really? What are we having?" SJ asked. The mention of food seemed to remind his stomach that it was as empty as Blowhole's heart. If he even had one, that is.

Bloom held the flap of the tent open as SJ passed her. "You'll find out when we get there."

As Bloom led the limping SJ to the eating area, she asked, "You know, I never caught your name?"

"Oh, everybody calls me SJ," he replied.

"Well, SJ, that'll change in time. Everyone here acquires a nickname sooner or later. Around here, nicknames are the only thing that really make you who you are. They're like your identity," Bloom told him.

"Really?" SJ inquired.

"Yeah. When I was first recruited, I caught on to the maneuvers and techniques they use here pretty quickly. Said I was a blooming warrior. So, from then on, everyone started calling me Bloom," she explained.

"So, what's your real name then?" SJ asked curiously.

Bloom smiled. "Don't worry about it. Just call me Bloom."

SJ smiled back. "All right."

When they arrived at the eating area, there were about thirty to forty other RABs there, all different species. Other than the two other penguins — including Bloom — and a couple of other species of bird, everyone was some sort of small mammal.

"Wow. How many other groups like this are there?" SJ asked. In all the years he'd spent under Blowhole's rule, any form of rebellion — whether successful or not — had never seemed believable to him. It just seemed too impossible.

"Dozens around the world, but we still don't stand a chance against the size of Blowhole's army, especially with their weapons advantage," Bloom answered as she started to head over to one of the cloth tarps on the ground that served as a table and took a seat. SJ held back a couple of feet, feeling a little awkward to just sit and dig in as if he'd lived there all of his life.

"Come on, now, don't be shy!" said the raccoon that was sitting at the same tarp. A small possum child sat next to him, but other than that, they were the only three sitting at the tarp, even though it must've been about twenty-five square feet. SJ tried to smile gratefully, but it ended up coming out bashful. He hopped forward on his crutch and settled down next to Bloom.

"SJ, this is Ace. Everyone calls him that because he's our intelligence," Bloom introduced the raccoon.

"Nice to meet you, Ace," SJ replied, accepting the paw that Ace held out.

"And the little one is Joseph. He hasn't obtained a nickname, yet," Bloom said.

Joseph hopped to his feet. "I will, though!"

Bloom laughed. "Of course you will, Joseph," she told him. Joseph smiled confidently and snatched up a stick that was laying on the ground nearby and started fencing with an imaginary opponent. Though he wasn't in actual combat, his decisive and swift maneuvers were actually pretty impressive for someone his age. Bloom and Ace laughed.

"You show 'em, tiger!" Bloom encouraged. SJ chuckled at the kid's enthusiasm. Finally, someone came by and set a wooden slat down on the tarp. Atop it, there were four home-made bowls filled with a green, lumpy slop inside. Ace, Joseph, and Bloom grabbed a bowl and scooped the mush into their mouths.

Bloom took notice of SJ staring skeptically at the bowl in front of him.

"I know it doesn't look that appetizing, but it's really not that bad. Besides, it's either this or nothing," she told him, wiping some of the mush off of her chin. "It has all the nutrients we need at least."

SJ considered. Eat, or starve. It didn't seem like much of an option, but those were his choices. Besides, it couldn't be worse than the sawdust-flavored slop he was given back at the mines. He picked up the bowl and held it to his beak. Without knowing what to expect, he tilted his head back and let the warm entrée land on his taste buds. He was actually quite surprised at how pleasant it tasted. It was merely just a mixture of greens, spices, and herbs. With the hole in his stomach feeling more empty with the promise of food, SJ greedily threw his head back and consumed the rest without stopping. When he finished his meal, he set his bowl down in front of him and realized that Ace, Joseph, and Bloom were staring at him.

With an embarrassed clear of his throat, SJ said, "Sorry."

Bloom laughed. "Don't sweat it. You were hungry. We don't blame you."

"It just feels like I haven't eaten in hours," SJ explained.

"Actually, you haven't. You've been unconscious since yesterday, mate," Bloom told him.

"Really? It doesn't seem like it's been that long …"

"Well, believe it. Time goes by pretty quickly when you're in a coma," Bloom said before she finished off her own herb soup.

"No kidding," SJ agreed. He turned to Ace and noticed that he was staring at him funny. "What?"

"You know, you look awfully familiar. What did you say your name was?" he asked.

"SJ," SJ replied.

"What exactly does that stand for?"

SJ thought for a moment. "Well, I'm not too sure if it's right. I never knew my parents. I was taken into foster care when I was only five months old. They told me not to tell anyone."

"Well, what did they say? You can trust us," Ace urged.

SJ hesitated, but decided that if he could trust anyone, he could trust the RABs.

"They told me that my name is Skipper Junior."

— § —

Notes: The acronym 'PODS' came from the actual term, pods. A pod is a group of dolphins, so it seemed appropriate that a special school run by a sick and twisted dolphin be named something associated with dolphins.

Quote: "Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible." ~Helen Keller