Hello you all! :D

I suddenly got this idea, and thought of typing it out...

Please have fun! :D

Chapter 1: Mirror

With a small smile, he let his flipper run through his feathers. The shiny blackness of his feathers was bewitching. His smile grew wider as he admired the reflection in the mirror. His deep blue eyes pierced right into the shiny ones of the penguin who stood opposite of him. He extended his flipper and touched the cold and hard surface of the reflection device. He softly let it run down the side of the mirror, until a sharp sting made him draw his flipper back. He watched the blood streaming out of the cut and he turned away from his reflection with his other flipper pushed against the wound. He waddled through Kowalski's laboratory he had been standing in. He slowly took out the first-aid kit and wrapped a bandage around his wound. He shouldn't be here. It was not his place and if they found out that he had been wandering fr a longer time around the HQ, the others would surely give them a piece of their mind. He could already hear their words. "Not stable enough..." "Get away from there!" The penguin turned around with a sigh. When would they understand that he wasn't crazy? When would they see he was not a muffled freak who could do no other than grunt or blow up buildings? When? He asked himself, only to come to the conclusion that they never would.

He was the crazy one, the one who was a mystery how he had come through the big screening. Even though it made him feel unimportant, he knew that he still was valued. He wasn't reckless, or at least not in his mind, but he was a daredevil. He lived to see things blowing up right in front of him. It gave him chills. It made him feel so big and strong, with his explosions, he didn't need words. He was the ruler of the universe as long as he kept all his kabooms close to him. He could make everyone move, with one single movement of his left flipper, as long as he was holding a grenade or something else from that range. Sometimes, he felt like he was misunderstood, as if he was just a painting on the wall. But then he turned towards the mirror, and he had to face it, he was one good painting. Not useless. Paintings never are, even though he preferred ice-sculptures. But you can't be everything in life.

They all thought he was some sort of weird dreamer, dreaming away by the smallest sound of explosions. And he was. But what they never noticed, was that he saw and noticed everything. It was a part of his job. Weapons expert. He needed to keep track of everything, what needed to be restocked, what could be used to create an explosions? And he had to say, he was probably the only one able to do so. He had been trained hard and severely, but he never gave up and never gave in. He knew perfectly well what he was. He was the unstoppable force of the team made of four penguins. He was the loud bang of the explosion. He was needed. Not a painting, not a maniac. Someone important.

He glanced from his reflection in the mirror to his bandaged flipper. The blood was still dripping to the ground and made small dark red, brownish spots on the cold floor. He waddled out of the lab, not obviously paying attention to the other penguins, who were playing cards. "Rico? What were you doing in my lab?" The large penguin asked and Rico shrugged. The penguin narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before letting go of it. 'He's just the maniac, nothing to worry about.' Rico could see him think. With a small and barely audible sigh, he waddled to his bunk, took out his small magazine featuring grenades and monster trucks and started to read. Yes, he could read. He knew the others couldn't, but when he had tried to tell them some time ago, they had just turned away and thought he was talking about bombs. Their loss, not his. Rico had even had some fun with that, knowing things they didn't. Danger ahead...It still brought him down. "I can sense there's danger ahead." He heard the leaders words again, while facing the sign. No kidding...

How many times hadn't he saved the team? Those guys had to face it, they were nothing without him. Skipper wouldn't have his favorite weapons by hand, nothing with him to confuse the enemy. Private wouldn't have a waddling peanut-butter winky supply and Kowalski, he wouldn't have access to all those dangerous and rare chemicals or his tools all the time. They would really miss him when he was gone and he knew it perfectly well. He sat there in his bunk, glancing over his magazine at the other team members. They were still caught up in their card game, with Skipper obviously in the lead. Rico smiled a little before looking at the new sort of missile that was invented not that long ago. He would die if he could have one of these babies... But for then, who wouldn't?

It wasn't for then, that his flipper started to itch. His bloody and bandaged one. Skipper, Private and Kowalski hadn't seen the bandage, they had been too busy with their game to actually notice their crazy weapons expert's wounded flipper. Maybe he should have Kowalski look it over, maybe he, himself should pay some attention to the wound... Or maybe he should stop talking to himself. Since when was he the penguin who thought so much? He couldn't remember he ever did. He was not the brightest around, almost always caught up in thoughts existing of no more then explosions and loud kabooms. What was happening to him? He had never felt the urge to gain more knowledge, even though he could read. He had never pondered about his position in the team. He had never thought of himself as more than the crazy weapons expert. The maniac. Why did he tell himself that he was more?

Why did he suddenly feel like he was more?

What was wrong with him? He laid down the magazine and stared at the grayness of the top of his bunk. He felt different, as if he had changed from who he really was, he felt like someone new and completely different. Was he going crazy? He didn't even notice that Skipper stood beside his bunk and was watching him curiously. The magazine was pushed a bit roughly back in his flippers as if he wasn't allowed to think. As if he wasn't supposed to create his own vision. He skipped through the pages of the magazine a bit absentmindedly, not paying attention to the content of it at all. He couldn't care less about the radius of the newest smoke bomb or the new safety prescriptions (which he always disregarded anyway). He now used the magazine as a cover for his thoughts. As an excuse to keep on thinking. Something was wrong. But what?

:D