Disclaimer: I do not own the Penguins of Madagascar. This story is a humanized version of Haunted Habitat. Some of the conversations are word for word, others slightly altered. The story changes at the end, however.

It was a peaceful night in the Central Park Dorms. Four boys slept peacefully in their bunks, which were somehow stacked on top of each other and built into the wall. One of them yawned sleepily, waving an arm in his sleep. "And, roll over. On my mark. Now." They all rolled.

Yes, it was a peaceful night, at least until–

"Ahhhh!"

The boys leapt out of bed, blue eyes wide and alert. Getting into their defensive positions, the leader looked around, eyes suspicious, and muttered two words. "Code Red."

Marlene woke up, with a scream. There it was! That sound again! Taking deep breaths, she had calmed herself down and was getting ready to sleep again when her door burst open. "Hi-yah!"

"What?" she cried, started by the sudden appearance of four figures.

"Kowalski, analysis," a familiar voice sounded.

Marlene groaned inwardly. Great. What did she have to do to get a full night's sleep? Especially when she had a test tomorrow. No, they had to arrive.

A tall figure appeared next to her, shining his touch into her eyes. His messed up hair was the only indication that they had rushed out of bed. "Subject: Marlene, Age: 17, Sound–"

Rico gladly provided, screaming in an imitation of her.

She held her hands out in a defensive position. "Okay, I can explain the scream."

The raven-haired boy ignored her, turning to the youngest of them. "Private, what do you make of the victim's scream?"

Private shone his flashlight away as he shrugged, his British accent coming clear as he spoke. "I don't know, Skipper. Perhaps she had a fright," he suggested, his light eyes occasionally darting over to Marlene in concern.

Marlene wanted to sigh in relief. Private would convince them, right? The fourteen-year-old looked up at Skipper, his wavy dark brown hair falling over his eyes.

"Interesting theory," Skipper rubbed his chin. "But how can we prove it?"

Private thought for a while before turning to the girl. "Marlene, did you have a fright, then?"

Marlene brightened up. "Uh, yes! But, uh, I'm fine, now, so you guys can go back to sleep. Night-night."

Skipper objected. "We can't just leave a helpless victim in her time of need!" his eyes were smug as he smirked at her, dark arctic eyes accessing her reaction.

Marlene balled up her fists. "Who's a helpless victim?" she dared.

He didn't get to answer, as her door was swung open again. Marlene face-palmed as the new arrivals came into view. "I really need to get that door's lock fixed," she murmured to herself.

"What is all this commotion?" Julien strolled into the room as if he owned the place, his odd colored hair sticking out. He smiled, raising a hand. "I was having a dream where I'm the last human on earth."

Marlene had to take a deep breath to calm herself down.

"Was I in it?" Mort asked, his golden brown hair swept to the side. The fourteen-year-old was small for his age, causing him to look up just to see Julien.

Julien smiled satisfactorily down at him. "Yes, but you were driven over by a car."

Unperturbed, the boy grinned, clasping his hands together in joy. "But I was in it!"

It didn't take much to see that he idolized the older boy. The last arrival, on the other hand, looked just plain annoyed, golden eyes drooping as he sleepily brushed hair from his view.

Skipper spun the torch around so that it pointed back at Marlene. "Women hysteria," he stated, looking pleased with himself. "Marlene probably saw her own shadow."

Marlene glared at him and looked behind just in time to see Rico made bunny ears for her shadow. She sighed before explaining herself slowly, hoping this way, it would register in everyone's brain. "A weird noise woke me up. Okay? That's all. I'm not a hysterical—"She glanced over at Kowalski, who was furiously jotting down notes on his clipboard beside her. "—helpless victim, and we don't need to turn this into some kind of commando operation."

Oh, did she mention that they were some sort of military group? It was actually kind of laughable, though. Two seventeen-year-olds, a sixteen-year-old, and a fourteen-year-old making up a military team? No way. Personally, she believed that it was Skipper's fault. Or at least his father's. Apparently, Skipper's father was some sort of former Navy Seals officer, and Skipper inherited that. Oh well, what was she going to do?

Unfortunately, Skipper was already ordering his team around, tousled black hair now pointing in all directions. "Private, recon. Kowalski, perimeter check."

Marlene rubbed her temples in resigned frustration as Kowalski took out a bunch of weirdly shaped tools from Rico's bag. He placed some sort of headphones on his head – a wire connecting it to a listening device he now held in his hand. "Scanning for weird noises, Skipper," said the boy, nearly bending double as he searched the room yet keeping his balance. "Wait! I'm getting something."

Marlene covered her eyes with a hand as she shook her head. Kowalski looked up to see that his tracking device was pointing at Rico's stomach. The teen burped, causing Kowalski to grimace.

Private slid up to Marlene, abandoning his post for a second. "Perhaps it was just a bad dream," he said, trying to lift her spirits.

Marlene shook her head, grabbing his head and nearly trying to shake some sense into him. "No, no. This was real." Her eyes were alert now. "And real loud. It was like – like a ghostly moan." Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper.

"Oh no," Mort placed his small hands on either side of his face. "What if – what if – what if it was a ghost?" He hid behind Julien.

Kowalski flipped a few pages on his notebook. "Rumor has it that the previous occupant of this room did disappear."

"Under mysterious circumstances," Private added worriedly.

Marlene sighed. "Urgh. He was an overseas student who returned to his own country because of some emergency."

Mort screamed, causing everyone to jump. Julien looked at him, blinking, before turning to them all and standing up. "As king, it is in my power to command any and all spooky spirits to get the heck out. Do it, Maurice!" he snapped his fingers.

Maurice tapped his fingers together, looking around. "Okay. How?"

Julien covered his eyes with his hand, sighing. "Ugh. Oh, Maurice. What am I going to – Fine! This will require a tremendous amount of dancing skill. Look out!"

Maurice began to push everyone to the edge of the room. "Give him some room, folks," he then whispered to them, "Trust me."

Julien hopped to the edge of the room, stretching his body in preparation. Mort had taken a spare torch, now shining it in the middle of the room as Julien jumped into the spotlight and began to sing while dancing.

"Oh, spirits of the night

Who may or may not bite

You bring the woman fright

You bring your fright though you are out of sight

Maurice sat crossed-legged on the floor, happily drumming on a spare pan, now providing the 'echo' to the song.

Go away, Go away (Go way away)

I say don't stay (I say don't stay)

Go away, Go away (Go way away)

I say no stay (I say no stay)

Skipper sighed, rolling his eyes.

Go away, Go away (Haha, Go way away)

I say don't stay (I say don't stay)

Go away, Go away!

Skipper stared at them, completely bored. "Come on, men."

I say don't stay!

He pointed to the dancer. "Let's leave this to the tiny dancer, and get us some shut eye." He walked towards the exit, the others following.

Julien laughed as he continued dancing. "Haha! My ghost mojo is working! Can you feel it?"

Private lay in his bed, hands folded over his stomach. He stared up at the bottom of the bunk above him. "Do you suppose Julien's singing really scared away the ghost?" he asked.

No answer.

"Skipper?" Private poked his head up to see an empty bunk.

The teen was sipping a cup of coffee. "Sempre alerta, Private." He sipped once again.

"AHHHH!"

Skipper set his mug down, looking at the younger boy. "Our turn, boys. Commence Operation: Our Turn."

"Talk to me, Kowalski." Skipper glanced around the room suspiciously, positioned in front of Marlene.

Kowalski was wearing his former gear, looking at some sort of tracking device. "These readings are off the charts!" he exclaimed.

Skipper shot him a look. "Well, get bigger charts – taken out of petty cash."

Marlene held out her arms in a show of question. "Do ya ever knock, or—"

Kowalski took his eyes away from the device. "Such pleasantries would only slow us down."

Private turned his head to look at her from his position guarding the guest room. "We do pride ourselves on a rapid response," he added, smiling.

The brown-haired girl bit her lip. "Okay, yes, I heard the ghost again. Yes, I screamed again. No, I don't need you guys on guard duty!" She tried to push Kowalski and Private out of the door.

To add more chaos, Julien, Maurice, and Mort arrived – Julien chuckling. "Obviously, this is a new ghost. Since the old ghost was eliminated by me, your king."

Skipper slid next to him with remarkable speed, staring at him in the eye and causing the other to step back. "Your little song and dance did bupkis!"

"Oh," Julien poked him in the chest. "And what did you do? Double bupkis." He flicked the other's nose, much to Skipper's annoyance. "So, shut up."

Skipper gestured to Rico. "Rico."

The blue-eyed boy happily took out a taser, causing Marlene to gasp. Skipper glanced at him. "I meant see them out. It's our time."

The teen placed the taser away grumpily and took out a torch. He motioned for the three to move out of the room, sweeping the torch. Julien smiled knowingly. "Fine. Have at it. You will come back begging, and I will say, 'Mmm, maybe I help, but maybe not!'" He sauntered out of the room.

Skipper smirked. "And that's how you chase away unwanted guests."

Marlene sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I don't need your help, okay?"

Skipper shook his head. "Nonsense, Marlene. We're staging an overnight operation."

With that, the four of them took up various positions in the living room. "I would advise you keep your door open," added Kowalski.

Marlene closed her eyes, suddenly feeling terribly tired. It was no use trying to fight them. She could think of it as a – a sleepover! Yes, that's it! Albeit a spontaneous, unwanted one.

Hours later, four of the five are asleep – Marlene on her bed and the others either on the couch or the carpet. The raven-haired boy sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall while holding a tape recorder. "Skipper's log, 0200 hours. All is quiet, too quiet. The temptation of warm, soft slumber—" He resisted the urge to yawn. "—It's almost too much to bear." Skipper fell asleep, his head drooping down.

No sooner had he eased into the arms of sleep than a sudden, unexpected noise woke him up. He jerked awake, drawing on his energy reserves. His team jumped to their feet as well, looking around wildly. It took seconds to identify the direction of the noise – all of them moved into Marlene's room with all thoughts of privacy thrown out of their minds.

Skipper laid a hand on her, gently shaking her. "Marlene. Marlene. Marlene!"

She woke screaming – him retracting his arm back. "At ease, Marlene. At ease!"

She breathed a sigh of relief, her face turning red. Well, this was not how she had expected to wake up. The girl was suddenly glad of her pajamas, which consisted of a T-shirt and a pair of long pants – none of them revealing anything. As she looked up into those arctic eyes, she found herself growing red once more. Marlene swallowed. "Whew! I was dreaming of screaming. Huh, weird."

Skipper was wearing a smug grin as Kowalski explained why they were standing in her room. "It appears that the ghostly death rattle was coming from your own respiratory system."

"Oh, I see." She didn't see.

Rico happily obliged, throwing himself on the floor and snoring.

"Snoring?" scoffed Marlene. "I don't snore."

To her embarrassment, Skipper held up his tape recorder, smirking as he pressed the play button. Her snore drifted from the machine, turning Marlene fifty shades of red. To his credit, Skipper didn't seem to be laughing at her – merely glad and satisfied that they had done their job. "Mystery solved. You spooked yourself."

She hated to break it to him, but "That's not the scary sound!"

"Oh, come on." Skipper slid the recorder into his back pocket. "It's bloodcurdling!"

A moan filled their ears. Marlene's eyes widening in terror. "That's the sound!"

Skipper frowned, conflicted. He pressed the record button again, trying to catch the strange sound. A device pinged, Kowalski standing next to the air vents. "The ghostly sound appears to be coming from the air vents, Skipper."

"Right. All right, Rico, get that latch open. We're going in."

Rico nodded, indicating for Kowalski to give him a foothold. The other did as asked, and soon the entrance to the vents was clear. "Wait, you're not going in there, are you?" asked Marlene, now fearful for them.

"Of course," Skipper replied, eyes shining with determination. "How else are we supposed to find the source of the noise?"

He hopped on to Kowalski's ready foothold, slipping into the vent. Surprisingly, he was able to fit, although it was rather tight. The others followed in suit, Kowalski lifted by Rico. Biting her bottom lip once more, Marlene glanced after them in worry.

The noise was growing stronger. The vents also appeared to be heading downwards. The four came to another latch, Skipper kicking it down and flipping to the ground before landing in a defensive position. Reaching a hand behind him, he switched the record button again. "Skipper's log, I have entered the mysterious realm of the specter."

The others landed beside him, Rico and Private shining light around the room. "It looks like the other dorms, Skipper," reported Private.

"Well, it still is in the Central Park Dorms," concluded Kowalski.

The sound appeared again, this time slight altered. They exchanged puzzled looks. "Move out, men," ordered Skipper.

Silently, they stalked to the room. Private located the light switched and—

"Gahh!"

It was another boy. He shielded his eyes against the light, blinking rapidly. He jumped back as he caught sight of the group. "W-who are you? What are you doing here? What's going on?"

"Oh, um, we're sorry for the inconvenience," Private said after a moment of tension. "You were scaring our friend, so we came to investigate."

"Oh." The boy relaxed. "I didn't mean to cause such a racket."

He was a tall and muscular boy, although his face was round and chubby and his voice filled with kindness. He wore a white shirt soaked with sweat and a pair of green shorts. He glanced at them strangely. "Are you all from Central Park too?"

"Affirmative."

He grinned, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Well, in that case, my name's Roger."

Skipper eased. "I'm Skipper. This is Kowalski, Rico, and Private."

"What was that entire racket, anyway?" questioned Kowalski.

Roger grinned sheepishly. "It won't open," he explained, gesturing to the door behind him. "And I really need to go."

The boys grinned back. Kowalski quickly analyzed the situation. "There's something blocking your hinges," he noted.

Rico stepped up to pull it off. With that done, Private turned th knob. The door opened smoothly. Roger laughed. "That's great! Thanks! You won't be hearing my groaning for the rest of the night."

"No problem, Roger. It was our pleasure."

A few days later, the four met in Marlene's dorm for some cookies. She laughed. "I still can't believe that it was actually another student."

Skipper smirked, laying down a card and taking another cookie. "And to think, it was merely a misunderstanding."

There was a knock on the door. Private glanced up from the television. "I'll get it!" He scampered over before anyone could object, opening the door.

A familiar teen stood outside, holding a plate of muffins. "Hi."

"Ello, Roger!"

The others looked up as Private allowed him to come in. "Hello," he said to the others. "I baked some muffins."