Penguins of Anarchy

Thirteen

The medics carried the now-full body-bags out of the screening room, with Omniscion still standing in the middle of the room after killing the entire surveillance crew.  Omniscion was notorious for having violent reactions to big defeats, and this was an excellent example.  He had strangled many of the operators to death, and the rest he had beaten the life out of with his brass knuckles.

He was alive after all these years, and I lost him before I even found out how he survived, Omniscion thought gravely, indifferent to the blameless lives he had just taken.  He survived Endgame; maybe he survived this too.  He didn't trust his hope.

One of the Martial Alliance's most respected majors entered the room.  "Commander Omniscion, the main landmass is won.  General Waff has been taken prisoner, and our enterprise conquering the entire continent of Antactica has ended in victory."

"Very good, Major.  Prepare my jet for departure.  I have to go back to North America to prepare our followers for the next invasion.  You are now the administrator of Antarctica.  I trust you'll take good care of it."

The major gulped, familiar with Commander Omniscion's horrific rage should someone fail him.  "Of course, Commander."

Dreemo lay on a cot in one of the tents his team had set up near the shore; prepared for a quick escape should more Martial Alliance forces arrive.  He had been mulling over the different adventures he had experienced, from the days prior to the attack on Aurora Base to the conquering of the Oasis of Antarctica.

He had ended the lives of many penguins today, snuffing out their life forces and leaving their bodies sprawled out in the bloodstained snow, now just empty shells that would rot away and be forgotten.

But there was another matter that bothered him more: Felly's confession about how she felt about him.  He had been stealing glances at her since they had been on Clearwater Isle, contemplating what it would be like to share his life with someone who was one of his best friends.

Did she still care, though?  That thought made him shiver.  He had all but dismissed her advances on Aurora Base by curtly telling her that he would think about it.  Would she forgive him for that, if he did decide to tell her how he felt about her?  He wished he knew.

It seemed that the cuts, bruises, and tousled hair had actually made her more beautiful, more real, more relatable.  She seemed vulnerable, yet strong and independent.  She was more of an adult than she had ever been when he knew her on Waddle Island, and she had shared that she sensed the same thing about him.

Half of Dreemo said, Go talk to her, while the other half said, This isn't the time.  "It may be the last chance I'll ever get," he said to himself.

Stepping carefully out of the tent, he saw that the sun was setting, and that Sam, Ursynz, and Marcosis were sitting by the fire they had made in the middle of the camp, roasting wieners and bratwurst.  "Hey, Dreemo," Marcosis said; he was readjusting Ursynz's leg, which was kept elevated on a log and tied with a tourniquet.  "Want to join us?"

"In a minute," Dreemo replied, tempted to forget about talking to Felly and just joining the guys.  He knew that would be taking the easy way out, and that almost always meant it was the wrong thing to do.

He carefully brushed aside the tent flap at the entrance to Felly's tent and saw her adjusting her uniform and brushing her damp hair--she had just taken a shower in one of the nearby abandoned buildings.

"Hey Felly, is this a good time?" he asked, forcing the words out of his dry throat.

She turned to look at him and smiled, seemingly pleased that it was him.  "Sure thing, Dreemo.  Have a seat."