Penguins of Anarchy III: Edge of Disaster

Prologue

The penguin sat in the gunship with his comrades, heading on a rescue mission that was doomed to failure. His whole plan had been doomed to failure. Everything had gone wrong, and good penguins had died because of it.

The penguin had no one to blame but himself. He knew that he would be hated by everyone, friend or enemy. All that was left to do now was to survey the damage, see how bad things had actually gotten. He knew all of his efforts had been futile. He knew there could have been a better way to do things.

But no, there hadn't been a better way to do things. It was the only option he had had at the time. He had listened to the advice of someone he trusted, and didn't even stop to think about the consequences.

But it was too late for regrets now. Because now, thanks to him, there was nothing left.

But many days ago, there was still much left. A yellow-green penguin with long black hair rubbed his aching head as he trotted into a large, dark, cylindrical room with walls of steel, deep in the heart of Blizzard Base, the army base where he had been spending most of his time for the past three months. This room appeared to be dark and empty, but a hollow artificial voice suddenly said, "Scanning intruder."

The penguin stood still as a blue light shone from the high ceiling and illuminated his figure. He listened to the clang of the dog tags hanging from his neck, which bore the names Klondike34325 and Vileer, two of the penguin's friends whom he had lost in battle. They hung from his neck to remind him of those he had fought alongside who died on the way to victory; they hung there to remind him what he was fighting for. Lately, though, the penguin had forgotten that they hung there; he had become oblivious to the ominous clink of metal against metal.

The artificial entity finished scanning and said, "Subject identified as Dreemo, sergeant in the Antarctican Army. Access granted. Initiating supercomputer." The penguin cringed at the loud voice. He hadn't gotten much sleep lately, being so busy with press conferences and interviews concerning the controversial events that led to the escape of the leader of the American super-army known as the Martial Alliance from Antarctican custody.

It also didn't help that he had been having nightmares nearly every night, reliving the moment when his uncle shot him as Dreemo was trying to rescue him from capture. Now Dreemo's uncle and wife were both captured behind enemy lines, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Not yet. But he was sure trying to find a way.

The room lit up as a large holographic screen appeared, floating in the middle of the room. Displayed in large letters on the screen were the words, "How may I help you?" A masculine mechanical voice echoed through the room, "Welcome back, Sgt. Dreemo. How may I assist you today?"

"Hello again, Computer," Dreemo said tiredly.

"Couldn't get to sleep, sir?" the voice asked in an almost-sympathetic tone.

"You know the answer to that," Dreemo replied darkly. "Search radio waves from the past twenty-four hours for distress beacons from Dracken1 or Fellow10."

"Again, sir?"

"You heard me."

"Searching." A dull tone emitted from the unseen speakers as the supercomputer analyzed the data received from Blizzard Base's huge satellite dish within the past day. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's still no trace of the subjects you are looking for. If they had sent out a distress signal, it likely would have been detected immediately."

"I figured as much," Dreemo growled. "Analyze the flight pattern of the gunship that took Drake and Felly from Antarctica before its cloaking device was activated."