I've learned my lesson, you webnovel folks prefer quantity(alot of chapters) over quality(lenghty chapters) lol! So no more 4k-6k word chapters, expect 1.5k-2k word chapters from this fic! enjoy!
CHAPTER 1 Operation: Crash Landing
The mission was simple. Infiltrate Dr. Blowhole's lair, neutralize his doomsday device, get home in time for the sardine delivery at oh-seven-hundred. Skipper had run operations like this a hundred times.
He stood before the tactical board in their underground bunker beneath the Central Park Zoo, flippers clasped behind his back. Surveillance photos of Blowhole's latest toy covered the board — a hulking machine covered in symbols none of them recognized.
"Gentlemen, Blowhole's at it again."
"Analysis suggests dimensional energy readings," Kowalski said, tapping his clipboard with a pencil. "The symbols appear to be ancient Chinese. The power output is fascinating but extremely dangerous."
"Translation?"
"It could explode. Or implode. Or..." Kowalski waved his flipper vaguely. "Plode."
Rico hacked up a stick of dynamite and grinned.
"Do we have a plan?" Private asked.
Skipper cracked his neck. "We always have a plan. Attack."
Twelve minutes later they stood inside the abandoned aquarium exhibit. The device hummed at the room's center, taller than expected, its symbols pulsing blue. Blowhole's voice crackled over the speakers.
"Ah, pen-gu-ins. Right on time for your DOOM!"
"Heard that one before, fish-breath," Skipper said.
"This time is different! Behold — the Dimensional Vortex Generator!"
"That's scientifically improbable!" Kowalski sputtered.
"And yet!" The machine screamed to life. Light flooded the room.
Skipper pointed at the device. "Plan B. Rico, blow it up."
"Should we maybe understand what it does BEFORE—" Private started.
Rico threw the explosive.
* * *
Exploding the device turned out to be the wrong plan.
Instead of shattering into scrap metal, the machine tore open. Light poured from the crack — not normal light, but something that bent sideways and tasted like static. A vortex ripped the air apart above the wreckage, spinning wide enough to swallow the ceiling.
Gravity tilted. Blowhole's scream spiraled into the void first. "WHAT?! NO! That's not supposed to — I'LL GET YOUUUUU—" Gone.
Skipper grabbed the door frame. "HOLD YOUR POSITIONS!"
"Gravitational force exceeds our combined mass by a factor of—" The vortex yanked Kowalski off his feet. He vanished with a yelp.
Rico dug his claws into the concrete. Private clung to Rico's ankles, feet dragging toward the light. Their chain held for three seconds.
"I don't want to die without telling you all—" Private started.
The chain broke.
They tumbled through something that wasn't air. Colors that shouldn't exist smeared past them. Impossible geometry folded in on itself. Skipper tried to give orders — "EVASIVE MANEUVERS!" — but his voice came out backwards. Kowalski slammed into him from the left, already scribbling notes. Rico made carnival ride noises, flippers up, actually enjoying himself.
Private apologized to the void. "EXCUSE ME! SORRY! PARDON US!"
Blue sky ahead. Mountains. Ancient buildings. A crowd?
"BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
They shot out of nothing at terminal velocity, four black-and-white projectiles screaming toward something very important happening below.
* * *
The Dragon Warrior selection ceremony had never been interrupted by falling birds before.
The Valley of Peace stretched beneath them — green hills, tile rooftops, a stone arena packed with hundreds of animals. At the center stood the oldest turtle Skipper had ever seen, one withered hand raised toward the sky. Five warriors flanked him: a tiger, a snake, a crane, a monkey, and something green and tiny.
On the outskirts, a massive panda shoved through the gates dragging a noodle cart, a goose flapping behind him screaming about soup.
Then the sky cracked open and the penguins came through.
Skipper hit the stage first. The wooden platform splintered beneath him. Kowalski landed on Skipper. Rico landed on Kowalski. Private bounced off all three and rolled into a gong that rang across the entire valley.
The shockwave knocked the panda off his feet. He tumbled forward through the dust cloud and crashed to a stop directly in front of the ancient turtle.
Silence. Absolute silence from the crowd.
Dust settled. The turtle — Master Oogway, though Skipper didn't know that yet — peered down at the wheezing panda sprawled before him. Then his gaze drifted to the crater where four penguins lay in a groaning pile.
"...Interesting."
The pause stretched. The tiger warrior's fists were clenched so tight her knuckles had gone white. The red panda beside her looked like he was having a stroke.
Oogway pointed at the panda. "Him."
Gasps. Murmurs. A voice from the crowd: "But the demon birds—"
Oogway's hand swept toward the crater. "Them too, apparently."
Skipper, upside down with his feet in the air, said: "Status report."
"Alive," Kowalski groaned. "Disoriented. Possibly in ancient China?"
Rico gave a thumbs up from under a plank of broken stage.
"I think I broke my dignity," Private said.
* * *
The tiger moved first.
"What ARE you?!" She stalked toward the crater, every muscle coiled. "Explain yourselves!"
Skipper hauled himself upright and brushed splinters off his chest feathers. "Classified. Who's asking?"
"I am Master Tigress of the Furious Five. You've disrupted the most sacred ceremony in—"
"Cool title. I'm Skipper. These are my men. Kowalski, Rico, Private."
"MEN?! You're BIRDS!"
"Actually, we're penguins, ma'am," Private offered. "Flightless aquatic—"
"I DON'T CARE."
She lunged. Skipper dropped flat — belly slide under her arm. Kowalski rolled left. Viper shot toward him and slid right off his feathers. Crane dove at Rico, who coughed up something that made the bird bank hard in confusion. Mantis charged Private, who sidestepped with his flippers raised apologetically.
"Sorry! So sorry! We really don't want to fight!"
"ENOUGH."
One word. The old turtle hadn't raised his voice, but every warrior froze mid-strike. His authority was absolute, written into the bones of this place.
Oogway approached the penguins. He studied each of them in turn. Touched Skipper's shoulder. Peered into Kowalski's eyes. Patted Rico's head. Held Private's flipper for a long moment.
"Hmm. Yes. Very interesting."
"Sir, we mean no harm," Skipper said. Something about this ancient turtle made him drop the sarcasm. "We're just lost."
"Lost?" Oogway's eyes crinkled. "No. You are exactly where you need to be."
The red panda — Shifu, the penguins would learn — stepped forward, his left eye twitching. "Master, this is highly irregular—"
"Most interesting things are." Oogway turned away. "Take them to the Palace. And the panda too."
* * *
The stairs nearly killed them.
"Why," Skipper panted, hauling himself up another step, "so many — STAIRS?!"
"Estimated one thousand forty-seven steps," Kowalski wheezed. "Highly impractical for aquatic birds."
Rico had stopped making words three hundred steps ago. Private, youngest and fittest, powered ahead — then politely waited for the others, which somehow made it worse.
The panda struggled beside them, drenched in sweat, hauling himself up by the railing. They made eye contact. The same miserable recognition passed between them: We're both the weird ones here.
At the top, the Jade Palace opened before them. Ancient architecture, carved jade pillars catching the last daylight. Training equipment filled the courtyard — wooden dummies, spinning clubs, things Skipper couldn't name but wanted to avoid.
His eyes swept the perimeter on instinct. Three exits. High ground favored defenders. Bad tactical position for escape.
Shifu addressed them in the courtyard, his voice clipped and controlled. "You will wait here while I consult further with Master Oogway. The panda begins training tomorrow."
The panda — Po — lit up. "YES!"
"As for the penguins, you will be housed in the storage room until we determine what to do with you."
"Any chance of a way home?" Skipper asked.
"I don't even know where you're FROM."
"Fair point," Kowalski muttered.
Po shuffled over while Shifu argued with Tigress in low tones across the courtyard. "Hi! I'm Po! I sell noodles! Er — SOLD noodles? Now I'm Dragon Warrior? Maybe? Today's been weird."
"Tell me about it. We were in New York an hour ago."
"Where's New York?"
"Different dimension, apparently."
Po blinked. "...Cool."
Private smiled up at him. "I'm Private. Sorry about crashing your ceremony."
"Are you kidding?! That was the coolest thing that's ever happened to me!" Po's whole face stretched into a grin. "Well — except being chosen as Dragon Warrior. Today's full of cool things!"
That night, in a dusty storage room that smelled like incense and old wood, Skipper gathered his team.
"Mission status. We're in ancient China, possibly a different dimension, with no way home, surrounded by kung fu warriors who could kill us, and we have zero intel." He paused. "I love it. New mission: survive, gather intel, find way home. Copy that?"
"Copy," Kowalski said, already sketching notes on a scroll he'd found.
Rico saluted.
"What about Po?" Private asked. "He seemed nice."
"The panda? Potential ally. We'll assess." Skipper settled against the wall. "Get some sleep, men. Something tells me tomorrow's going to be worse."
Outside their door, a voice older than the mountains murmured to Shifu: "The penguins are part of the Dragon Warrior's story. You'll see."
"But Master, they're chaos incarnate—"
"Exactly."
Oogway's footsteps faded into silence. Shifu sighed the sigh of a man whose life had just gotten significantly more complicated.
— End of Chapter 1 —