AN: I'll be updating this from time to time to keep my brain going during down days of the week. This song was inspired by the song Little Bird from Imogen Heap's Ellipse album. I suggest you take a listen. Also I apologize if this first chapter is wonky, I didn't bother proofreading it for venting purposes. I'll try proofreading before hand in the future..

-SM

"Kowalski it's time to take on the arena…even if you are going to be the brains of this team you need to know how to fight!

You'll be put into intense training for at least seven hours every two days for the next four weeks. I expect to see a breakthrough by Friday."

This phrase went over and over in the penguin's head, making sure he had it down. His azure eyes scanned over the empty room, mentally noting out where each of the traps would come from by irregularities in the paneling.

An amount of feedback came from a small speaker up in the corner of the room making Kowalski jump.

Alright soldier. I want to see what you can do for the next seven hours. You can't see me but I can see you, I will have someone monitoring your status throughout the period of your training. He is under no circumstance to help you if you don't survive the next seven hours. Good luck!

A small click echoed throughout the metallic room signaling that the speaker had finished its onesided conversation with him.

"I have never fought in my life…" Kowalski had said with disbelief. His misty thoughts were cleared when a loud buzzer went off, which had signaled for all the traps, explosions, decoy enemies to deploy.

Shit…shit. Okay Kowalski…you can do-

Before he had time to psyche himself out a large stone had came hurtling towards him, slamming him back into the door, forcing the air from his stomach and leaving him crippled against the floor gasping for his breath.

Kowalski eyed around as fast as he could attempting to get back up on his flippers, barely dodging a barrage of arrows coming from his left.

Training barely started and he was already out of breath as he booked it for the other side of the room, elbowing a few of the bad guy decoys out of his way and kicking them to the floor while evading a wall of fire that had almost singed off his tail feathers.

This isn't training…th-this is a death wish.. he thought, attempting to wildly flail his flippers at one of the decoys that actually was able to attack him first. Once again, a large brick had caught him off guard, sending him to a wall on the side of the room, whimpering from the pain that throbbed in his chest. But again, Kowalski got to his feet and did what he could, he evaded the knives that rained from the ceiling, one or two slicing his back, dodged the tennis balls that shot out from small holes in the wall at bone crushing speed.

Hours passed and Kowalski was losing it, he was losing to this hell hole. No matter how many times he tried to find pattern in the traps they would always come out differently again, this chaos wasn't structured, it was frustrating…his body was failing on him.

The firm flippers he had in the beginning of this "training session" were now nothing but jelly used to keep himself balanced, his legs were giving out and it was becoming difficult for him to even keep up with half the traps.

From being hit with those bricks so often he assumed he had a bit of internal bleeding and a cracked rib or two.

All it took was one more of those decoys for him to finally give out…one precise punch into his beak and a quick chop against his shoulder and he fell, hard.

"D-dammnit…" he winced, trying to keep his eyes open as he kept focused on the small window in the top of the room.

Sounds were blurring, as was his vision…I'm not cut out for this.

I'm not cut out for this…

He repeated to himself over and over, trying to limp to one of the corners of the room out of safety, the loud sounds around him stopped one by one. Kowalski could hear his heart throbbing in his chest. It echoed through his eardrums, pounding harder and harder. His eyes were beginning to close; finding it pointless to stare at blurs of white wall…something came into focus…a figure…someone.

It didn't emit a sound other than some grunts…Kowalski didn't care; the only thing he wanted to do now was…sleep.