The Final Battle


Ok, so this is pretty much the climax of the story. I realize that the chapters have been getting shorter and shorter, but this is the longest one since the first. Anyway, this chapter gets a little violent so if you don’t like your favorito characters getting hurt, send me a message, and I’ll tell you what happened. por the way, I think one of the Narnia books has the same título as this chapter so if you happen to be the author….. PLEASE DON’T SUE! All right, back to the story.

Skipper surfaced, greedily gulping air. The stink made him retch, but he was too worried to care. His team bobbed up beside him. The first thing he noticed was that Rico had a firm hold on Johnson.
“Manfridi!” Johnson screamed, “We have to go back and look for him.”
“Calm down,” Rico said.
“I will not calm down!” he shrieked, “We’re a team, we have to stay together! Remember the pinguim credo: Never swim alone!”
Skipper realized that, without Rico to hold him back, Johnson probably would have pomba back under.
“It’s too late for that now,” Rico said, “Dr. Blowhole tricked us.”
“Tell me something I don’t know!” Johnson shouted, “If we survived the explosion, he probably did too!”
“Johnson,” Kowalski said gently, “I’m afraid there’s 0.01% chance Manfridi survived.”
“And why is that?”
“When the power fonte exploded, it most likely damaged his tracking device. It must have detonated.”
Johnson was silent, but his face was a pained mixture of grief and pure, undiluted anger. Without warning, he threw his head back and screamed, “DAMN YOU, BLOWHOLE!” Then he was silent once more. When he spoke again his voice was softer, “I swear…when we get back to his lair, I will destroy him.” Skipper realized that, since he had been recruited, Johnson had never cried. Then again, he had never lost his best friend before. The team quickly swam ashore.
“A moment of silence,” Skipper said, “For a fallen hero.” The team was quiet for a minuto and then they each said a few words. Johnson was last.
“I know we bickered,” Johnson said in a low voice, “But he was my brother. Manfridi was always there, looking out for us. He-he cared so much.
And wherever he is right now, I’m sure he will still be looking out for us, still atuação as the angel on our shoulders, stopping us when we do stupid, senseless things. I’ll miss you, buddy. May he rest in peace.”
No one spoke after that. Then Skipper raised his head.
“C’mon, men,” he said, “We’ve got a score to settle.”

“Ah,” Dr. Blowhole said as he stared down at the filthy penguins before him, “There’s no sweeter sight than five penguins returning from a mission.”
Skipper threw his goggles on the floor of the lair, “Count again, Blowhole.”
The golfinho feigned shock, “Really? I had no idea.” Then he laughed.
Johnson’s flippers clenched into fists, “You tricked us.”
“It was simpler than I thought. Although I am a tad ashamed of Kowalski,” the tallest pinguim stiffened, “He should have known how easily a power fonte can explode when handled carelessly.”
“Did you plant it there just to blow us up?” Skipper asked.
Dr. Blowhole shook his head, “No, my story was true. Doris DID drop the power fonte in the river. It was just too difficult to retrieve it.
I didn’t know how easily you would be fooled. The Anacostia River’s pollution only made it easier to distract you from the immediate threat. But I AM disappointed that it was Manfridi alone who was killed. I was hoping you would all cadastrar-se the sewage at the bottom of the river. And if only one could be destroyed, I would have wanted it to be Skipper or even Kowalski. Manfridi was just a gnat!”
Skipper saw Johnson begin to tremble uncontrollably. A low growl was coming from deep within his throat. For this reason and his own vow, he changed the subject.
“We had a deal, Blowhole,” he reminded Blowhole, “Now let Private go.”
Private had stopped screaming, but his eyes were still wide. The tank was almost filled, but Skipper was proud to see that Private was holding his own. His down feathers WERE making it difficult to tread water, but he managed to keep his beak just above the water.
Dr. Blowhole didn’t answer. Instead, he calmly rode over to the tank, and pressed the blue button.
Immediately, a huge wave of water crashed down on Private’s beak. The young pinguim was thrown nearly to the bottom of the tank.
“Private!” the whole team gasped. Blowhole merely smirked. Bubbles were flying out of his mouth as he screamed; every segundo losing mais and mais of his precious oxygen. And that’s when all Hell broke loose.
Dr. Blowhole yelled, “Attaaaaaaaaack!” and the robots moved progressivo, para a frente with surprising speed.
“Stay away from the hands!” Skipper cried to his team. He wasn’t ready to lose two team members on the same mission. But Fate never cares about our needs, does it?
It was all the penguins could do to dodge the robotic arms, which were now glowing with electricity.
“The legs!” Skipper screamed, “Aim for the legs!” They WERE still the same robots. Skipper was certain Dr. Blowhole used the same blueprints as before. After all, you have a weapon the size of a small car, why worry about a tiny glitch? And he would be right to think that.
For all the years the team spent training for this type of action, they were doing poorly: very, very poorly.
Johnson smacked one of the robot’s legs, using his trademark punch. That mover had once knocked Rico out cold for 31 hours, but the robot brushed him off like a fly.
Rico had found a grenade somewhere in Dr. Blowhole’s lair and rolled it under a robot’s legs. When it exploded, the robot turned toward him, but was only a little annoyed. It wasn’t damaged at all.
Kowalski (after analyzing the situation carefully, of course) had somehow managed to climb up on a robot’s head and had almost succeeded in destroying some wires before the robot flung him off. He hit a nearby mural so hard, they heard the cement crack. Kowalski looked dazed and was muttering something about tuna under his breath.
Skipper didn’t have time to see if Kowalski was all right. He was headed straight for the tank. Private was still beating at the glass, but his punches were growing feebler and his eyes were half closed. The robots were busy with Johnson, Rico, and Kowalski, and didn’t notice Skipper sliding away.
When he reached the tank, Skipper paused momentarily to nod at Private. He prayed that his expression didn’t show how terrified he was. Then, summoning up all the strength he had left, Skipper smashed the glass with both flippers curled into fists. The glass should have shattered. Instead, a shrill siren went off. The good news: The robots moved away from Rico, Johnson, and Kowalski: The bad news? They turned towards Skipper.
The team was exhausted and sported numerous cuts and bruises (and Kowalski had a reasonably large lump on his head) but still they rushed to Skipper’s aid and the battle resumed.
Dr. Blowhole and Doris just stood in the shadows and watched the team’s struggle with smug smiles.
Skipper glanced towards the tank and froze: Private was definitely unconscious now. He was in the bottom of the tank, his head sagging and his flippers limp. But in the dividido, dividir segundo that he was paralyzed, one robot kicked Rico aside and swung his glowing arm at Skipper. If Kowalski had not pushed him out of harm’s way, he would have been vaporized. The arm smashed down where the leader had been only segundos ago, and it sunk through the floor.
“Skipper!” Kowalski panted, “We…can’t…beat them!”
“We have to keep trying men!” Skipper said. Johnson and Rico were looking on as well. They were both nearly dropping with fatigue and their eyes were bloodshot, “Just-just think of Private in that tank! At least for his sake we must be strong.” At Private’s name, Skipper thought he saw a light shine in Rico’s eyes. But he didn’t have time to ask him about it.
The robots were moving towards them once again. Skipper took a running start, and threw himself at a leg of the closest robot. The minuto he collided with the steel, he knew something was wrong. He definitely knew something had broken, but he had a sickening feeling that it wasn’t the robot.
Skipper fell off the robot’s leg and instantly, pain engulfed him. His left flipper was twisted at an odd angle, and his right leg was bent backward. His head and chest ached and he feared he might have broken a rib or two. The team stopped what they were doing and rushed to help him, but Skipper cried, “No! I’m fine! Get the robots!”
They hesitated but they knew better than to disobey a direct order. The robots hesitated as well. They probably wanted to go after the wounded penguin, but they eventually decided that the greater threat was the penguins that could still fight.
A segundo later, Kowalski fell seguinte to Skipper. One of a robot’s hands had grazed his neck and given him a slight electric shock. Skipper was relieved when he didn’t hear Kowalski babbling nonsense. Then again, he realized that he couldn’t hear Kowalski saying ANYTHING and if he weren’t twitching, Skipper would have thought he was dead.
‘Four down,’ Skipper thought miserably, ‘Two to go.’ This battle might have been lost if the two left were anyone but Rico and Johnson.
At that moment, the robots opened up their front panels and Skipper’s eyes widened.
“HIT THE DIRT!” Then the bombs exploded. Skipper and Kowalski were thrown against one wall, and Rico and Johnson were thrown against another. But as the latter clutched their heads, Rico whispered something in Johnson’s ear-hole. Dr. Blowhole didn’t notice, but even if he had, Skipper knew that it would mean nothing to him. Because only a person who had trained with them would understand the look that passed between them: It said, ‘For Manfridi.’

Rico and Johnson dodged one of the robots and slid toward the tank. They didn’t look back and, thankfully, neither did the robots. But Skipper saw them perfectly.
“Men!” Skipper cried. His voice was weak, but he still had a responsibility to look after his team. “Get back here! The tank is too strong and you’ll just set off the alarm again!” But secretly, Skipper was proud that they were making Private their topo, início priority. At least if- if he didn’t make it, Private would be in good hands.
He didn’t have much time to think about it. The robots were not weakened at all por their efforts, and showed no mercy to one immobilized pinguim and another who was unconscious. They were moving in on them fast
Suddenly, the robots stopped. Skipper shook his head twice and realized that the alarm had sounded. When he turned toward the tank, to his horror, he saw Rico and Johnson perched on topo, início of the tank. But they weren’t trying to open it. They were-could it be? - egging the robots on!
“Hey metal-mouth!” Johnson called, “Wassa mattah? Too fast for ya?”
“Can’t vaporize an elite force?” Rico yelled, “Or are you just not powerful enough?”
“Maybe their inventor is too dumb, Rico.”
“Maybe you’re right, Johnson.”
That did it. Dr. Blowhole’s face turned bright crimson. “Destroy them!” he ordered. The robots moved progressivo, para a frente quicker than Skipper had ever seen them move. He knew that they would get to his teammates in a matter of seconds.
“Johnson!” he shouted, “Rico! Jump! Retreat!” But they pretended not to hear him. Then he realized what they intended to do. Time slowed down. The robots were getting closer to the tank: They were three steps away, two steps, one.
“NO!” Skipper screamed.
The robots collided with the tank with a CRASH! The glass broke, and water gushed over them. Private’s limp body was thrown across the lair. The air cheirado, cheirava, smelt like burnt rubber and electricity crackled all around them. Rico and Johnson leaped into the air. But they waited a segundo too long.
For the segundo time that day, an explosion shook the Earth. Skipper grabbed Kowalski and tried his best to protect him. The robots made a grinding sound and several bombs detonated at once. Giant chunks of metal flew in every direction. Dark, foul smelling smoke filled the lair. Skipper heard Dr. Blowhole shriek, “DORIS!”
Water coated the floor, swirling around Skipper’s body. It was not deep enough to drown him, but he still would feel better if he could stand. He swatted the air with his flipper. His coração beat quickened. Something was familiar about this scene but he was too overwhelmed por the pain to think clearly. Beside him, Skipper heard Kowalski cough and saw water gush out of his mouth. Across the lair, Private was on his belly and unmoving. But it was the other two he was most worried about.
“Rico!” Skipper cried franticly, “Johnson!” He was about to crawl toward the large pile of metal and glass when he heard an electronic buzzing. Skipper turned and saw Dr. Blowhole turning away from Doris who was lying on the ground, unconscious. He pressed a button on his segway, and a glass bubble grew around him. Dr. Blowhole started to fly away, leaving Doris behind. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to activate a self destruct button.
Skipper started to try and follow him, but something held him back. He turned and saw Kowalski’s flipper clamped tightly around his shoulder. His face was grimly set, but his eyes bored into Skipper’s.
“No,” he said, “It’s over.”