Penguins of Madagascar: Moving Situations

Chapter Seven

Skipper
Morning comes with the smell of breakfast and I stretch, pulling myself to my feet and rubbing the back of my neck. Ugh sleeping on the sofa makes my joints stiff. Although the duvet does certainly help. I frown in confusion as a thought crosses my mind. Both nights that I have slept on the sofa I didn't fall asleep with my duvet so where is it coming from? Not that I am complaining but it is something to think about. I consider and head into the kitchen where Kowalski is cooking. He cracks the eggs into the pan and is adding onion, peppers and cheese.
"Morning Skipper," Kowalski greets, brushing his hair from his eyes as he carriers on cooking.
"Morning," I reply, sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island. "What are you making?"
"Omelettes," he replies, adding some mushrooms to the pan. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough," I reply, still trying to get the stiff feeling away. "Hey was it you who gave me the duvet, right?"
"Um...yes," he admits, sheepishly. My brows furrow in confusion. That clearly isn't a bad thing so why is he so worried? Oh, right...it is Kowalski to be fair.
"Well thanks," I say with a small smile which he returns. "Now, can I help with anything?"
"Um...you could set the table?" he asks. "I mean I could b-"

I interrupt his trailing off by grabbing the cutlery and some glasses and putting them on the table. I then go to wake Private and Rico up so the omelettes don't go cold. No one likes cold egg.

Kowalski serves the food and we make light conversation as we eat. Kowalski doesn't really join in though, too focused on his book. I get that he often has issues socialising but still... I consider then take the book off him and put it to the side.
"Eat now, read later," I say. He huffs, giving me an unimpressed book. "The book isn't going to get worse if you leave it a bit. The food is."
"I can multitask," he murmurs but that is as far as his argument goes. He cuts a small cube from his food and actually starts properly eating.
"This is really good," Rico tells him. "Didn't know you could cook though."
"It is a necessary life skill," Kowalski replies with a shrug. "Plus I took it as an A-Level." Right, Kowalski mentioned once he went to schools in different countries so he must have done his A-Levels in England as not sure where else does them.
"That's surprising, I thought you would just do science and maths," I comment.
"I took an extra A-Level," he says with a slight shrug. "Plus cooking definitely shares traits with science."

We finish and head of to training. Today we're just practicing on punch bags given we only have time for a short training session before Gale arrives. Kowalski's one is barely budging and the way he is using it he is only going to hurt his knuckles and probably his wrists. I head over.
"Try putting less force in your wrists and more in this part of your arm," I say, gently touching where I mean. "All you're going to do is hurt yourself." He gives me a lost look which isn't too surprising because I don't think Kowalski had too much practice punching before joining the group. "Like this." I demonstrate. He makes a halfway decent attempt but I don't think how scrawny his wrists are is helping very much. It doesn't matter too much, he is by far the smartest of us so he could think his way out of situations we couldn't even if he couldn't fight his way out.
"I'm hopeless at this," he states, semi self deprecating and half matter of fact.
"You could be a whole lot worse," I say, hoping that somewhat sways his cynical self view on his skills. "And to be fair punch bags are pretty tough. Punch my hand instead." He gives me a very doubtful look. "Oh come on, it isn't like it would hurt, Kowalski."
"I'd still feel bad though," he says, expression sheepish. I sigh. He can be much too empathetic at times. At least that doesn't extend to people trying to kill us though.

"Come on, one punch?" I egg on. "You do it in practice fights."
"That's self defence," he argues, adjusting his lopsided glasses. "I don't like punching for no reason." I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. He is impossible sometimes but it is Kowalski so it is always going to be in a good way. Plus his tendency to stay away from unnecessary violence even if mild is pretty cu- Shut up, brain! His glasses slip lopsided again so I gently adjust them.
"Maybe tighten them again soon?" I suggest, quickly moving my hand away as I realise what I just did. I really need to stop or he is going to realise...Never mind.
"Probably a good idea," he agrees.

We head down to wait for Gale to arrive. Then wait some longer. Then keep waiting. Nothing.
"Where is he?" Private whinges. He can be really annoying sometimes.
"Maybe there's traffic or something," I say, scrolling through my phone.

The television switches to life itself, grabbing my attention. Worry snakes its way through me because we all know whose calling card that is. Dr Blowhole. My suspicion is confirmed when the familiar smirking face appears on our screen, eyes blazing with hate.
"Blowhole," I seethe.
"Well, well, well. My least favourite group," he begins. Rude much. "Missed me?"
"No one would," I snap. "Get the hell off our television."
"Don't you want to know who has a good chance of dying for associating with you?" he mocks. I cross my arms over my chest and wait with an expectant expression. He's a bad guy, he would like to brag.

Whatever Blowhole is using to record his gloating is turned to show Gale unconscious in a cell, wrists bound with thick rope. The screen cuts to black.
"Ugh...of course hiring a decorator lead to this shit," I groan, resting my face in my hands. I glance at Kowalski. "And what are you doing on your phone at a time like this?!"
"I was tracking the transmission," Kowalski replies. "He is in an abandoned warehouse approximately a half an hour drive away. I glance up.
"Thank God you're a genius..." I murmur. Then I jump up from the sofa. "We have to go, quickly!"
"Think it is a trap?" Rico asks.
"Almost definitely," Kowalski replies. "But we can't just do nothing."
"He's right," I confirm. "Let's go. Before he does kill Gale."

We all get into the car, me in the driver's seat because I couldn't care less about traffic laws right now. Saving someone from death is way more important and besides I can just use my agent card to get away with it.

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We take the side entrance to hopefully avoid detection for as long as possible. The place may be abandoned but it has been somewhat fixed up to function as a temporary base. We sneak along, managing to get past a crowded control room undetected and head down the stairs to the basement. At the bottom Blowhole is sat on a chair with an expectant smirk. A lot of his goonies are around him (seriously, how do these guys get so many henchman) including someone I haven't seen before. He, whoever he is, doesn't seem to care about my, Rico's or Private's presence but his gaze remains locked on Kowalski. Recognition and hatred floods his face as he takes a threatening step forward and instinctively I semi step in front of Kowalski with a protective stance. Nothing good comes out of such clear and vivid hate.
"Get them," Blowhole orders with a snap of his fingers.

Instantly we're surrounded by his henchmen and taking a good dent down. I glance at Kowalski periodically given he is the weakest fighter and see the angry guy is going against him. He is actually doing pretty well at defending himself but this guy is insanely good at fighting to the point he probably would beat me but with so many henchmen surrounding me I can't get over there. The crack that suddenly rings out makes me wince and I glance again to see Kowalski has been knocked out. Whoever did it has a tight grip around Kowalski's neck to keep him up and is holding a gun against his head.
"You three surrender now," he orders. "Or your little scientist's blood is gonna decorate the walls." Okay he is a fucking psycho. I instantly stop fighting, as do the other two and we're dragged to the same cell Gale is in. We're forced to walk in and Kowalski is literally tossed to the ground, still completely unresponsive.

"Is he dead?" Private asks with a worried expression.
"No," I seethe then glare at psycho guy. "But that fucking idiot is going to be!"
"I suggest you stop running your mouth," he snaps, pointing the gun at Kowalski's still form with a cruel expression. "Or a bullet goes through his head. Nothing would give me better satisfaction than to finally kill him." Finally? So he knows Kowalski from somewhere. I do shut up though and go to Kowalski's side to check on him, moving him into a better position and adjusting his glasses so they aren't pushing into his face as much.
"What is going on?" Gale asks as the psycho leaves and I sigh, preparing to try to explain this mess.