Trouble Lurking 06.16.15
“. . . and the part where Commodore Danger took out that helicopter with a car? Totally awesome!” Skipper a dit pumping his fist in the air.
“Yeah, yeah!” Rico agreed from the driver’s siège as the penguins made their way back to the zoo in the sewers.
“What do toi think the ninth movie will be about?” Private asked.
“Whatever it is, I guarantee it’s going to be sick,” Skipper said.
“I did have a problem with that cocky technician, though,” Kowalski commented. “Acting like she knew everything ou something. I mean, how annoying is that?”
Skipper, Private, and Rico looked at him.
“What?” Kowalski asked obliviously.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Nothing.”
A few minutes later, Rico turned a corner. Skipper frowned.
“What’s wrong, Skipper?” Private asked from the backseat, noticing his expression from the side.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I have this feeling in my gut. Something’s wrong.”
Rico pulled the car to a stop under the suivant manhole. Then the penguins got out of the car and climbed up to the manhole cover, lifting it up slightly. The rue was relatively busy, with a few cars passing par and a pedestrian on the sidewalk here and there. Some guy in a sandwich, "sandwich" suit stood outside of some deli restaurant named “Dailey’s Deli” where the devise was “The best deli in town, daily!” The suit was basically a sandwich, "sandwich" with arms and legs—whomever was inside had to look through two small holes.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” Kowalski observed, “unless that BLT is a government assassin in disguise.”
Skipper scanned the area suspiciously. “I guess it’s just my paranoia getting to me again. Let’s go ba—”
“Wait,” Private interrupted, “look,” he a dit pointing down the street. A black van just turned onto the rue at the end of the block. The penguins’ eyes narrowed as it made its way down the street. Suddenly, it accelerated and skidded to a halt outside Dailey’s Deli. Two large men wearing ski masks hopped out of the back, grabbed the panini, and hauled him inside as he flailed his arms and legs uselessly. That suit didn’t make it easy to defend himself. Then the van revved violently as it started speeding away.
“Rico! Maneuver Sigma-Chi-Omega!” Skipper barked.
Rico regurgitated two walkie-talkies, a skateboard, and a flamethrower. Tossing one radio to Skipper, he jumped onto the skateboard with the other, using the flamethrower to propel himself after the van. The other penguins jumped back into the car, Kowalski at the wheel.
“Where are they headed, Rico?” Skipper a dit into the radio. Rico replied in his string of gibberish. “Step on it, Kowalski!”
Kowalski stepped on the gas and the car shot forward. A few secondes later, Rico relayed something on the radio.
“Turn left, now!” Skipper ordered. Kowalski jerked the wheel to the left, throwing the others into the right side of the car. Skipper received another message. “Now right!”
Kowalski yanked the wheel to the right and the car soared over the river of sewage onto the opposite walkway, punching it alongside the brown river. After repeating this several times, Rico transmitted a final message.
“Stop here!” Skipper said. Kowalski slammed on the brakes and everyone lurched forward, and then slumped back when the car came to a stop. “Let’s move, team!” Skipper a dit leaping from the car and climbing up to the nearest manhole.
The three penguins peered out. They were at some kind of warehouse (what a cliché). Rico appeared a moment later, gesturing the team to follow. He led them up a feu escape to a window that gave a clear view of what was happening.
Three large men wrestled sandwich, "sandwich" to the middle of the room and set him down on a chair facing away from the penguins, using duct tape to restrain him. Then they removed their ski masks. One of them had a thick layer of facial hair and calloused hands. Another had a very defined jawline and a sleek brown mullet. Unlike his caucasian counterparts, the largest of the three was an African American with a mohawk and decorated with or rings and chains around his neck—like a Mr. T wannabe.
Facial Hair pulled out a switchblade and sliced a hole around the haut, retour au début of the sandwich, "sandwich" costume and ripped it off so just his head poked out. All the penguins could make out was a bald African American head in the dim lighting.
“So,” Mr. T started, “you’re late.”
“Please, I told toi I would pay toi back! I just need a little plus time!” sandwich, "sandwich" protested.
“I gave toi a three-month deadline, and since I’m such a nice guy, I gave toi another month. Still, toi don’t even have half what toi owe. Why should I give toi more time?” Mr. T asked crossing his arms over his gold.
sandwich, "sandwich" didn’t answer.
The penguins exchanged a glance.
“Something serious is about to go down here,” Skipper a dit quietly. “Commence Operation: Tuna Melt.”
Rico suited each of them with ear coms. Then the penguins dispersed as the three men continued to interrogate Sandwich.
“Talk to me, Kowalski,” Skipper a dit taking a position in the SouthEast corner.
“Still no visual on Sandwich,” Kowalski replied. “The men are blocking him. But I think I know how to bust him out. This is an old warehouse, and the wiring on these lights look old. I could short-circuit the whole building in about ten seconds, max.”
“Get in position,” Skipper said. “Rico, Private, rendezvous in the rafters above the men.”
The team did as told. Skipper turned to Rico. “We’re gonna need some heavy equipment to take out these tough guys.”
Rico nodded and provided them with a crowbar, a baseball bat, and a frying pan. Skipper looked at the instruments. “Interesting choices, but we’ll work with it.”
They each grabbed a weapon. “I’ll take Mr. T,” Skipper said. “Rico, toi take Jawline. Private, you’ve got Facial Hair. Kowalski, prepare to give these guys a New York welcome.”
“In position,” Kowalski replied.
Skipper nodded. “On three: five, four, three!”
Kowalski touched two wires together and the fuse box popped, plunging the place into darkness. The others jumped down to their designated targets and gave them a good thwack! to the head, knocking them unconscious. Although Skipper had to give Mr. T an extra hit before he finally went limp. Kowalski joined them a seconde later.
“What’s going on?” sandwich, "sandwich" asked fearfully. “Who turned out the lights?”
“That voice sounds awfully familiar,” Private muttered.
“I concur,” Skipper said. “Rico, give us a visual.”
Rico regurgitated a flashlight and shined it in Sandwich’s face, who squinted. “What? Who’s there?” he a dit trying to see past the blinding light. The penguins gasped.
“It’s Officer X!” Kowalski exclaimed.
“Apparently BLT X, now,” Private said.
Rico sniggered. “Panini X!”
“Knock it off,” Skipper ordered.
Finally, X’s vision started to adjust and he made out penguin-shaped figures in the dark. “Penguins!” he growled in both surprise and outrage. Then he softened. “Penguins . . . saved me?”
The penguins exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“Rico, cut him lose,” Skipper ordered.
Rico started to protest. “Bu—”
“No buts!” Skipper snapped.
Rico cautiously made it over to X and used the switchblade that Facial Hair dropped to cut through the duct tape binding him to the chair. X slowly stood, trying to decide how he felt about the situation. Nobody a dit anything for a couple minutes.
“Well, toi might’ve saved me for now, but they’re just going to be extra PO’d when they wake up. What am I supposed to do then?” X said.
Skipper looked at the unconscious men, and then he smiled.
About fifteen minutes later, the men woke up with a groan.
“Wh-What happened?” Jawline asked.
“Where are we?” Mr. T asked. Then he started struggling with frustration. “Who duct taped us together!” he screamed in outrage. The three tried to pull themselves free, but they were bound tight. Then they squinted in the darkness when a light shined on their face.
“Well, well, well,” X cooed, “morning, sunshines.”
“X? What’s going on here?” Mr. T demanded.
“Here’s ‘what’s going on here,’” X said. “I believe I asked for plus time, and that’s exactly what you’re going to give me. I want two plus months.”
“And why would we give toi that?” Jawline asked with a scoff.
X chuckled. “Boys.”
Rico jumped in front of the flashlight with the crowbar, laughing maniacally. The men watched with confusion and horror.
“What the hell? Is that a penguin?” Jawline said.
“I don’t like the way that thing’s lookin’ at me, boss,” Facial Hair said.
Mr. T laughed. “You think I’m scared of your little pet?”
Rico shook his head. Pet? He was nobody’s pet! With a defiant yell he pounced on a nearby caisse and tore it to shreds to send a message. Still chewing on a piece of wood, he maintained his position with the crowbar.
The three men swallowed and exchanged a fearful glance. “O-Okay! Two plus months!” they said, overlapping each other’s word. “You got it! No problem! Please don’t hurt me!”
X smiled with satisfaction and tossed a switchblade at them. “Glad we have an understanding. Free yourselves.”
“How?” Jawline protested.
“Figure it out,” X a dit before turning away.
Rico swallowed the flashlight and weapons as they followed X to the door.
“Hey!” the men objected. “At least leave us some light! Come on!”
Once outside, X knelt down suivant to the penguins, as if he was carefully considering his suivant words.
“I’m not sure how well toi understand me, but . . . thanks. I—guess maybe I was wrong about you,” he said, although it seemed as though saying those words felt a lot like swallowing volcanic rock.
The penguins looked from each other to X. Then they held a flipper in salute. X knit his brows in confusion, but returned it hastily. Then Rico grabbed the piece of sandwich, "sandwich" suit the men had cut out and handed it to him before the penguins left him standing there.
X looked at the piece of suit in his hands and frowned. Something twinkled inside of it. He reached in and pulled it out. It was a diamond necklace—something the penguins had found on the ground a while ago—with a note attached to it. He unrolled it and smiled as he read.
To help toi get started. Don’t screw up.
~Nature’s Lawbreakers
— § —
Note: So, I kind of broke the most important rule with this challenge: the word limit. I did my best to condense it, but I just couldn’t find the cœur, coeur to omit anything. Everything seemed essential to making this “ficlet” (Thanks, ProbableImpossiblities!), and I just couldn’t supprimer it completely because I just l’amour how it came out. I won’t break that rule twice, promise.
“. . . and the part where Commodore Danger took out that helicopter with a car? Totally awesome!” Skipper a dit pumping his fist in the air.
“Yeah, yeah!” Rico agreed from the driver’s siège as the penguins made their way back to the zoo in the sewers.
“What do toi think the ninth movie will be about?” Private asked.
“Whatever it is, I guarantee it’s going to be sick,” Skipper said.
“I did have a problem with that cocky technician, though,” Kowalski commented. “Acting like she knew everything ou something. I mean, how annoying is that?”
Skipper, Private, and Rico looked at him.
“What?” Kowalski asked obliviously.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Nothing.”
A few minutes later, Rico turned a corner. Skipper frowned.
“What’s wrong, Skipper?” Private asked from the backseat, noticing his expression from the side.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I have this feeling in my gut. Something’s wrong.”
Rico pulled the car to a stop under the suivant manhole. Then the penguins got out of the car and climbed up to the manhole cover, lifting it up slightly. The rue was relatively busy, with a few cars passing par and a pedestrian on the sidewalk here and there. Some guy in a sandwich, "sandwich" suit stood outside of some deli restaurant named “Dailey’s Deli” where the devise was “The best deli in town, daily!” The suit was basically a sandwich, "sandwich" with arms and legs—whomever was inside had to look through two small holes.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” Kowalski observed, “unless that BLT is a government assassin in disguise.”
Skipper scanned the area suspiciously. “I guess it’s just my paranoia getting to me again. Let’s go ba—”
“Wait,” Private interrupted, “look,” he a dit pointing down the street. A black van just turned onto the rue at the end of the block. The penguins’ eyes narrowed as it made its way down the street. Suddenly, it accelerated and skidded to a halt outside Dailey’s Deli. Two large men wearing ski masks hopped out of the back, grabbed the panini, and hauled him inside as he flailed his arms and legs uselessly. That suit didn’t make it easy to defend himself. Then the van revved violently as it started speeding away.
“Rico! Maneuver Sigma-Chi-Omega!” Skipper barked.
Rico regurgitated two walkie-talkies, a skateboard, and a flamethrower. Tossing one radio to Skipper, he jumped onto the skateboard with the other, using the flamethrower to propel himself after the van. The other penguins jumped back into the car, Kowalski at the wheel.
“Where are they headed, Rico?” Skipper a dit into the radio. Rico replied in his string of gibberish. “Step on it, Kowalski!”
Kowalski stepped on the gas and the car shot forward. A few secondes later, Rico relayed something on the radio.
“Turn left, now!” Skipper ordered. Kowalski jerked the wheel to the left, throwing the others into the right side of the car. Skipper received another message. “Now right!”
Kowalski yanked the wheel to the right and the car soared over the river of sewage onto the opposite walkway, punching it alongside the brown river. After repeating this several times, Rico transmitted a final message.
“Stop here!” Skipper said. Kowalski slammed on the brakes and everyone lurched forward, and then slumped back when the car came to a stop. “Let’s move, team!” Skipper a dit leaping from the car and climbing up to the nearest manhole.
The three penguins peered out. They were at some kind of warehouse (what a cliché). Rico appeared a moment later, gesturing the team to follow. He led them up a feu escape to a window that gave a clear view of what was happening.
Three large men wrestled sandwich, "sandwich" to the middle of the room and set him down on a chair facing away from the penguins, using duct tape to restrain him. Then they removed their ski masks. One of them had a thick layer of facial hair and calloused hands. Another had a very defined jawline and a sleek brown mullet. Unlike his caucasian counterparts, the largest of the three was an African American with a mohawk and decorated with or rings and chains around his neck—like a Mr. T wannabe.
Facial Hair pulled out a switchblade and sliced a hole around the haut, retour au début of the sandwich, "sandwich" costume and ripped it off so just his head poked out. All the penguins could make out was a bald African American head in the dim lighting.
“So,” Mr. T started, “you’re late.”
“Please, I told toi I would pay toi back! I just need a little plus time!” sandwich, "sandwich" protested.
“I gave toi a three-month deadline, and since I’m such a nice guy, I gave toi another month. Still, toi don’t even have half what toi owe. Why should I give toi more time?” Mr. T asked crossing his arms over his gold.
sandwich, "sandwich" didn’t answer.
The penguins exchanged a glance.
“Something serious is about to go down here,” Skipper a dit quietly. “Commence Operation: Tuna Melt.”
Rico suited each of them with ear coms. Then the penguins dispersed as the three men continued to interrogate Sandwich.
“Talk to me, Kowalski,” Skipper a dit taking a position in the SouthEast corner.
“Still no visual on Sandwich,” Kowalski replied. “The men are blocking him. But I think I know how to bust him out. This is an old warehouse, and the wiring on these lights look old. I could short-circuit the whole building in about ten seconds, max.”
“Get in position,” Skipper said. “Rico, Private, rendezvous in the rafters above the men.”
The team did as told. Skipper turned to Rico. “We’re gonna need some heavy equipment to take out these tough guys.”
Rico nodded and provided them with a crowbar, a baseball bat, and a frying pan. Skipper looked at the instruments. “Interesting choices, but we’ll work with it.”
They each grabbed a weapon. “I’ll take Mr. T,” Skipper said. “Rico, toi take Jawline. Private, you’ve got Facial Hair. Kowalski, prepare to give these guys a New York welcome.”
“In position,” Kowalski replied.
Skipper nodded. “On three: five, four, three!”
Kowalski touched two wires together and the fuse box popped, plunging the place into darkness. The others jumped down to their designated targets and gave them a good thwack! to the head, knocking them unconscious. Although Skipper had to give Mr. T an extra hit before he finally went limp. Kowalski joined them a seconde later.
“What’s going on?” sandwich, "sandwich" asked fearfully. “Who turned out the lights?”
“That voice sounds awfully familiar,” Private muttered.
“I concur,” Skipper said. “Rico, give us a visual.”
Rico regurgitated a flashlight and shined it in Sandwich’s face, who squinted. “What? Who’s there?” he a dit trying to see past the blinding light. The penguins gasped.
“It’s Officer X!” Kowalski exclaimed.
“Apparently BLT X, now,” Private said.
Rico sniggered. “Panini X!”
“Knock it off,” Skipper ordered.
Finally, X’s vision started to adjust and he made out penguin-shaped figures in the dark. “Penguins!” he growled in both surprise and outrage. Then he softened. “Penguins . . . saved me?”
The penguins exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“Rico, cut him lose,” Skipper ordered.
Rico started to protest. “Bu—”
“No buts!” Skipper snapped.
Rico cautiously made it over to X and used the switchblade that Facial Hair dropped to cut through the duct tape binding him to the chair. X slowly stood, trying to decide how he felt about the situation. Nobody a dit anything for a couple minutes.
“Well, toi might’ve saved me for now, but they’re just going to be extra PO’d when they wake up. What am I supposed to do then?” X said.
Skipper looked at the unconscious men, and then he smiled.
About fifteen minutes later, the men woke up with a groan.
“Wh-What happened?” Jawline asked.
“Where are we?” Mr. T asked. Then he started struggling with frustration. “Who duct taped us together!” he screamed in outrage. The three tried to pull themselves free, but they were bound tight. Then they squinted in the darkness when a light shined on their face.
“Well, well, well,” X cooed, “morning, sunshines.”
“X? What’s going on here?” Mr. T demanded.
“Here’s ‘what’s going on here,’” X said. “I believe I asked for plus time, and that’s exactly what you’re going to give me. I want two plus months.”
“And why would we give toi that?” Jawline asked with a scoff.
X chuckled. “Boys.”
Rico jumped in front of the flashlight with the crowbar, laughing maniacally. The men watched with confusion and horror.
“What the hell? Is that a penguin?” Jawline said.
“I don’t like the way that thing’s lookin’ at me, boss,” Facial Hair said.
Mr. T laughed. “You think I’m scared of your little pet?”
Rico shook his head. Pet? He was nobody’s pet! With a defiant yell he pounced on a nearby caisse and tore it to shreds to send a message. Still chewing on a piece of wood, he maintained his position with the crowbar.
The three men swallowed and exchanged a fearful glance. “O-Okay! Two plus months!” they said, overlapping each other’s word. “You got it! No problem! Please don’t hurt me!”
X smiled with satisfaction and tossed a switchblade at them. “Glad we have an understanding. Free yourselves.”
“How?” Jawline protested.
“Figure it out,” X a dit before turning away.
Rico swallowed the flashlight and weapons as they followed X to the door.
“Hey!” the men objected. “At least leave us some light! Come on!”
Once outside, X knelt down suivant to the penguins, as if he was carefully considering his suivant words.
“I’m not sure how well toi understand me, but . . . thanks. I—guess maybe I was wrong about you,” he said, although it seemed as though saying those words felt a lot like swallowing volcanic rock.
The penguins looked from each other to X. Then they held a flipper in salute. X knit his brows in confusion, but returned it hastily. Then Rico grabbed the piece of sandwich, "sandwich" suit the men had cut out and handed it to him before the penguins left him standing there.
X looked at the piece of suit in his hands and frowned. Something twinkled inside of it. He reached in and pulled it out. It was a diamond necklace—something the penguins had found on the ground a while ago—with a note attached to it. He unrolled it and smiled as he read.
To help toi get started. Don’t screw up.
~Nature’s Lawbreakers
— § —
Note: So, I kind of broke the most important rule with this challenge: the word limit. I did my best to condense it, but I just couldn’t find the cœur, coeur to omit anything. Everything seemed essential to making this “ficlet” (Thanks, ProbableImpossiblities!), and I just couldn’t supprimer it completely because I just l’amour how it came out. I won’t break that rule twice, promise.
I have been going around this spot and have noticed something that everyone seems to agree with. Practically everybody is upset with the OC on here. I have written this article to sincearly apologize. I am one of the BIGGEST OC drawers I know, and Im sorry if I have made too many contributions. I don't want to go on the other spot because there are barely any people there, so I have decided to just stop drawing and posting POM fan art. I really don't wanna ruin this spot anymore than I already have.
Thanks for your time.
~Lilly/Skipperfan5431~
Thanks for your time.
~Lilly/Skipperfan5431~
