In the surprisingly green, grassy coast of Iceland, an egg hatched several years ago. Hans the puffin was born to a large family, with many siblings. He was never the strongest of his siblings, yet never the smallest either. For most of his life, he was just there. While many of his siblings and peers could fly at unprecedented heights, he was mostly grounded. He could fly, but it wasn't very impressive. He could catch fish just fine, never requiring assistance like some of his younger siblings. To the outside observer, one might think the life of Young Hans had no faults.
This could not be farther from the truth. In fact, his normality and mediocrity became the source of great distress for Hans. No matter how many times he practiced his survival skills, they always went unnoticed. He never quite measured up in any facet to the standards set by the other puffins. In crowds, he had the tendency to disappear. Even amongst his family, in the presence of his seven siblings, his parents seemed to forget about him. He was always just there. Nothing special about him - just one of the flock. While blending in was good for survival, it did little for actually living.
When Hans reached adolescence, he was flying in search of food when something smacked him in the beak. Quite literally. By the time he was able to catch the paper within his talons and land, he discovered it was some sort of business card. He picked up the small, white card in his wing and read it.
"Animal Commission Protection Agency?" Beneath it is an address. Hans flips it over. That's all it reads.
This was the sign he was waiting for! It was his chance to stand out, create an identity for himself, and prove himself. Besides, it's not like anyone at home would really miss him all that much.
And so, Hans joins the agency the very next day. They even gave him a title - Agent Hans. With this opportunity, he was determined to build his strength and reputation. He set out to make a name for himself and escape the mundaneness of his life.
But life seldom goes to plan. While he would eventually make a name for himself and quite the reputation, it was not in the way he planned. As for his work as a secret agent, he remained mediocre at best. Though he was accepted into the agency, he made no stir after that. No matter how much strength training he did, his flimsy wings would only build so much muscle. As months turned to years, he watched his cohorts thrive while he remained stagnant.
This is where the agency differed greatly from the puffin colony. Back home, his normalcy went unnoticed. But here, if he didn't make the cut, there were consequences, both professionally and socially. Around the agency's barracks he became known as the only puffin and, if that weren't enough, the weakest link. Most of the time, he was ostracized.
Amongst all of the animals in the agency, Hans thought that the penguins would be the most understanding of him. After all, they too were black-and-white seabirds who faced adversity in the wild. Since they were flightless, they might even admire his abilities. What he didn't account for was their overall strength and sturdiness that surpassed him greatly.
"Hallo, flightless pals!" He tried to approach them several times.
Needless to say, they already knew about his reputation as the weakest. Plus, they surely didn't like to be reminded of their flightlessness. They often would roll their eyes and walk away. Hans just never felt good enough, not even when he was supposed to stand out.
One day it all became too much for him. He went out to the city to drown his woes away. That night, the warm light of a makeshift, alley bar drew him in like a welcome mat. As he made his way to the bleak yet alluring setting, he came across another bird that looked just as down and out as him. He hopped up onto the stool next to a nearly slouched over penguin. This one didn't look quite as self-assured as the ones at the agency. Maybe he stood a chance at creating a friendship here.
"Hallo," Hans gives it a shot.
Skipper barely looks up at the puffin. "Hey," he takes a swig of the can he is drinking from.
"Mein name is Hans!" Hans scoots closer, while Skipper feels uncomfortable and scoots away.
"Skipper," Skipper glances over, trying to satisfy the stranger but block this conversation from going any further. He just did not have the energy to deal with this guy right now.
The following morning, Skipper's five 'o clock shadow is gone. He looks perhaps the most presentable he has in years. Hans quite giddily introduces him to the agency and presents him for an interview with the board. Sure, Skipper would have to be around more animals when he'd rather be alone, but it was a small price to pay for his dream.
Skipper stands before a board of much larger animals. They sit behind an extended bench and bar, so much so that Skipper quite literally feels as though he is appearing in court. There is a dull arctic wolf, a saggy-faced grizzly bear, and a lion with bifocals to name a few. In the middle of them sits a gigantic, mustached walrus. Other than the board, the room is wide and open. The floor is so shiny he can see his reflection if he looks at it in just the right way.
"Skipper, is it?" The lion adjusts his reading glasses.
"Yeah -" Skipper shakes his head and corrects himself. "Yes, sir." He stands and salutes.
"And you were referred by… Agent Hans?" The bear sighs. From outside the door, Hans is peaking in and waves at his new best friend.
"So, to cut to the chase, if we may, what makes you think you have what it takes to become a secret agent?" The walrus huffs.
"Well, I single handedly fought and hog-tied a sea lion," Skipper chuckles.
The room falls silent. They don't even take notes on what he has just said.
Skipper smiles awkwardly.
"Is that all?" The wolf asks.
"Uh, no, I uh… -" Skipper is unsure of how to convey his determination to them. That didn't impress him. Overall, he's unsure of himself.
"Look, our organization is already oversaturated with small, young animals like yourself looking for something to prove." The wolf clasps her claws together. That's easy for her to say.
"Then let me prove myself!" Skipper pleads. That wasn't typically his style, but this was his dream. Finally, he could be like Buck Rockgut. He was so close. Now, he was being told he was what? Too small and weak? They hadn't even given him a real chance.
"All right," the walrus speaks, his voice booming throughout the room. His comrades look at him with confusion. It seems they weren't expecting him to be so accommodating. "We'll give you the chance to take a test administered to all of our penguin agents."
Just then, the doors open behind him. Several penguin agents enter, already looking him up and down in a rather judgmental manner. So, this was the new recruit? A young adolescent penguin he still had some growing to do. The bird would probably chicken out once introduced to all the demands of the test. Most did.
One of the penguins, at the front of the queue, with a smirk speaks. "We hereby invoke P.E.L.T."
"All right," Skipper shrugs, hiding his uncertainty. "Bring on whatever this P.E.L.T. thing is."
The penguins all snicker amongst each other. This wasn't off to a good start. The kid didn't even know P.E.L.T. What kind of penguin was he? It was an ancient penguin ritual, passed down from generation to generation. Only the fittest of the fit were able to pass P.E.L.T and merit leadership status amongst any rookery.
"The Physical Endurance Leadership Test is not just for any penguin. It's daunting, dangerous, and few penguins actually make it out alive." The penguin explains further.
Skipper nods earnestly. He wants this spot in the agency more than anything. And heck, he has nothing more to lose, right? However, he realizes he has to match the other penguins' confidence if he wants to fit in. He regains his swagger. "Pfft, not a problem. It's nothing I can't handle. I'm sure."
"Task one," One of the penguins unravels a decrepit scroll. "Move an iceberg."
Skipper is now standing on the ledge of a rectangular pool. Right in front of him is a massive, towering iceberg. How on earth was one single penguin supposed to move this thing?
"Your objective is to move this iceberg from one end of the pool to the other." One of the penguins calls out.
The other penguins sit on bleachers, as if they are watching a sporting event. The lot of them looks rather unimpressed thus far, expecting yet another failed recruit. They sit slouched back, some with flippers folded across their chests. Others check the time, wondering how long it will take for Skipper to give up or get crushed. They are sure to keep their distance from Hans, who sits on the opposite end of the bleachers. He sits eagerly, with tail feathers on the edge of his seat.
"Go palsy walsy!" Hans cheers.
Skipper sighs and turns back to the iceberg. That guy was really starting to get on his nerves. He might even prefer the skepticism of the other penguins. He found the cheering and all the "palsy walsies" patronizing.
Skipper starts by pressing his flippers against the iceberg. It is freezing against his feathers. The sudden change in temperature is enough to cause him to shiver. He puts all of his weight into his flippers, with his feet reaching their very tippy-top toes. He strains every muscle fiber in his body. He is absolutely miniscule next to the colossal chunk of ice. Despite all his efforts, it budges all but an inch.
Skipper growls. "C'mon, c'mon!"
When it doesn't move any further, Skipper takes a break to catch his breath. "Son of a bass, this is a lot harder than I thought."
"Ready to call it wraps?" The head penguin offers Skipper an out.
"Nope, nope," Skipper shakes his head, before going back to it. "I've got this." He says in between breaths.
Skipper then places his back against the ice, which proves to be even colder. Completely resting on the iceberg, he latches his feet onto the ledge of the pool. Wedging himself in between the edge and the ice, he lifts his flippers above his head and pushes back even more on the iceberg. This works even better than he expects, as it loosens the iceberg from the wall. It slides out, sending Skipper down into the frigid water.
Now, the penguins are slightly more interested. They watch the water closer, sitting up a bit more. Skipper emerges from the water, realizing there's no turning back now. Giving himself just enough time to catch some air, he dives back down. From under water, he speeds towards the wall. Seconds before slamming into the solid side of the pool, he flips around. He plants his feet against the edge and sends himself torpedoing towards the massive obstacle.
It works, sending the iceberg out a few more feet. However, he foresees a problem with this strategy, when he surfaces. The sheer force of his action, sends shards of ice tumbling down towards him. They're sharp like knives, so he does his best to avoid them. So long as he could avoid the debris, he should be able to continue this strategy.
Back and forth from the wall to the ice he goes. Each knock on the ice, sends more ice tumbling towards him. The chunks are getting larger as well, as the ice on the top is loosening. They are getting harder to avoid, and the stakes are rising. If he gets smacked by one of them, it could leave him with a concussion sending him to the bottom of the pool. This continues until the iceberg reaches about halfway across.
This strategy simply isn't going to be practical anymore. He's losing momentum by the time he reaches the ice. Plus, he has to recover quickly each time he surfaces, in order to avoid getting bonked upside the head. He swims a few feet back to get a better gander at the iceberg. He's tried pushing it this entire time, but what about pulling.
He takes a big, deep breath, filling his lungs as much as possible. Then, he dives down towards the bottom of the deep water. Despite the surplus of ice above the water, there is twice that much hidden underneath. Skipper dives deeper still, making his way under the ice. Gripping with all his might, he grabs onto the ice and swims backwards.
"What's he doing?" Hans watches the iceberg floating at a decent speed, towards the goal, but no sign of Skipper.
"That fool is pulling the iceberg from underwater." A penguin says to another, ignoring Hans.
"He's going to drown himself." Another shakes his head.
The iceberg slams into the side of the pool. There's not even room for Skipper to squeeze between the wall and the ice. He certainly completed the task, but now they wait to see if he will have enough time to survive it. At this point, all of the spectators are sitting on the edge of their seats, leaning forward.
Soon enough Skipper comes jetting up from the water and leans up against the iceberg to catch his breath. That was a rather close one. But he doesn't let it show. He looks back to his judges, propping his head up on a flipper resting nonchalantly on the ice.
"So, what's next?" He smirks.
"Task two," the penguins continue their trials. "Endure the coldest of colds."
"How much longer do I have?" Skipper's beak chatters.
He is now sitting in a deeper vat of water. It's a cylindrical, steel pool with a thermometer attached to the outside. It reads -89.6 degrees Celsius. Not only is he treading in the icy water, the pool sits in the headquarter's walk-in fish freezer. Large frozen fish hang off of hooks behind him and boxes of other frozen foods line the shelves.
All of the spectators are outside of the freezer. A penguin looks at his watch and reports over his headset. "30 more seconds."
After Skipper completes this task, he is brought back into the spacious board room. Was that it? Only two tasks? Why, he must have passed with flying colors. Skipper is rather pleased with himself, as he prepares to face those skeptical mammals once again.
He does, however, find it odd that the other penguins stay along the far side wall. They won't enter the room any more than that.
"For the third and final task," the penguin with the scroll continues.
This captures Skipper's attention. He turns back to the group of penguins. So this was the last trial? Fine. It was nothing he couldn't handle. Guess, this means that he was almost finished with this P.E.L.T.
"Provoke and evade a polar predator." The penguin states.
Just then, something gigantic lands feet from Skipper. As he is still looking back at the other penguins, he is tossed in the air by the jolt. The floor shakes with the presence of whatever predator has just landed in front of him.
Skipper turns to see that it is the walrus from before. Up this close, he is enormous. The small penguin looks up at his foe with dread and swallows hard. "You're a polar predator?"
"Well, walruses mostly eat fish, but the occasional seal or seabird hits the spot." The walrus shrugs.
This looks like a challenge already just by the sheer size of his foe.
"You win, you can join the agency, but if I win, we'll be grilling penguin filets for dinner." The walrus proposes.
From behind their benches, the other board members exchange nods. That would be a rather appetizing meal. So, this really was all or nothing for Skipper. He could still turn back, before the brawl began. If he quit now, he could give himself time to regroup and come up with a strategy to face the foe. But that thought never crossed his mind. He was ready to risk everything he had left.
"Sounds good to me." Skipper gets in battle position.
He had already survived several encounters with predators - skuas and a sea lion. This was something different though. The walrus was twice the size of the sea lion and likely had experience taking down foes. But Skipper isn't afraid, at least he doesn't appear so.
Skipper circles his foe, with side steps, maintaining his fighting position. He's sure he can out-maneuver his assailant. All he has to do is fluster the foe enough so he wears himself out.
"You call yourself a predator? I bet you couldn't even catch me if you tried." Skipper taunts, trying to fluster the giant foe.
"Why don't you face me and find out?" The walrus huffs.
Skipper dives, tucks, and rolls all around the beast. Despite the two previous tasks, he is still bursting with energy. No matter how many times the walrus turns to face him, he cannot keep up with Skipper.
As the walrus is distracted and looking the other way, Skipper takes this opportunity to send a kick to the walrus's head. This blindsides the opponent. Skipper lands into a roll and plans his next attack. Kick by kick and punch by punch, he wounds the foe, and makes him dizzy with all his dodges.
The beast soon tires and falls to the floor with a THUD. He is out of breath and left staring at Skipper in amazement and slight horror. Who was this small penguin? "You… you faced death several times during those challenges but kept going. Why?"
Skipper shrugs. "I guess I have nothing left to lose."
"Interesting…" The walrus squints at Skipper, clearly thinking.
The mammals start taking vigorous notes now.
Turns out Skipper would make quite the agent, especially with this mindset. They took advantage of Skipper's unrelenting attitude to train him with the most strenuous tasks. Like an experiment, they used him to test the capacities of one single penguin. Without another care in the world, Skipper was focused on his training and whatever mission they sent him out on. He was new and expendable. Once a year had passed, Skipper was lightyears away from where he was when starting at the agency. By year two, he had built up his strength and skills to where he was unsurpassable, even by the other penguins. From expendable rookie to their go-to agent, Skipper flew through the ranks.
Nearly every mission, especially the most pressing, was assigned to Skipper. This was not the case for his "palsy walsy" however. Hans remained average at best, sinking into the background, even to Skipper. While he considered Skipper to be his closest friend, the feeling was not mutual. Skipper certainly wasn't looking to get attached to anyone. After everything had happened thus far, he decided the safest strategy was to look out for number one. Anyone he dared to get close to would inevitably leave.
Hans, on the other hand, watched Skipper excel with growing envy. It appears Skipper was making a name for himself. He was the one standing out, making a name for himself; he was the one living Hans's dream.
This reached a head, when Hans was called in to meet with his superiors. Perhaps, he was getting a promotion. Finally, there was a possibility that he would be recognized for all of his hard work. After all, he had been a member of the organization for years. This was much longer than Skipper had been. Still, with the possibility of reward in mind, the idea of going in before the board of agency was daunting.
Hans creeps into the large, open room. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he cringes at each footstep that echoes. He feels about as tall as an ant, with the towering board members staring down at him. The sound of the door creaking behind him runs a chill down his spine.
"Agent Hans," the walrus bellows.
"Yes, sir!" Hans salutes, standing at attention. He puffs out his chest.
The wolf is next to speak. She scans over her notes, while speaking. "Over the course of your time here at the agency, Hans, it appears you have had limited success."
"In fact, there are agents much newer to the organization who are already going out on several missions per week. But according to all our records, it looks like you're still in basic training and HQ-based tasks." The lion chimes in.
Other agents? Of course, they had to be referring to Skipper. The agency hadn't seen anyone succeed as quickly as him. The penguin was a prodigy. He came from seemingly out of nowhere and never ceased to impress them. But he didn't just come out of nowhere, Hans had referred him to the agency. If it hadn't been for him, Skipper wouldn't even be here. Where's his credit for doing that? In fact, Skipper hadn't even thanked him. It never seemed to end for this penguin. Hans was beginning to feel used. But maybe his jealousy was getting the better of him. After all, Skipper was his friend.
"Listen, Agent Hans, our agency is overcrowded as it is. If we want to keep expanding to find agents who are truly committed to the organization, we're going to have to start letting our less motivated agents go." The walrus motions with his flippers.
"B-but I've trained so hard to be here. I - I deserve to be here." Hans stands firm in his shocked indignation. It feels like the room is spinning, the floor is moving beneath his feet.
"We understand your… disappointment with this news." The bear states rather flippantly.
Understand? They understand? Of course, they didn't. If they understood, they wouldn't be firing him. This was his dream too. He had worked so hard to get to where he was at, but it just seemed like he was doomed to remain stagnant. Why couldn't he ever stand out? It was almost as if he wasn't meant to succeed. Maybe this secret agent thing wasn't his shtick. But when would he find what made him special? Would he ever find this? Apparently, he wasn't good at being helpful.
"That's why we're giving you one more chance to prove your worth to the organization." The walrus huffs, air puffing forward his mustache.
This could be his chance. But he is still focused on the slight it is to even be having this conversation. However, he bites his tongue and listens.
"This should be a softball we're throwing at you. It's a breeze of a mission in Copenhagen. You're to protect the vault, holding the country of Denmark's most precious treasure."
This was the sort of work this agency focused on. It wasn't anything challenging like protecting other animals or a rescue mission. It was simple, straightforward. Yet, he was still intimidated by the idea. In fact, he had never been assigned an outside mission before. He began to wonder why that was. It was almost as if they never even gave him the chance to prove himself. But that wasn't the case for the other seabirds, especially the penguins. This spiraling of thoughts only fanned the flames of his rage and resentment.
That's when a terrible scheme popped into his head. If he was no good at being one of the good guys, maybe he was meant to be a bad guy. Perhaps, instead of protecting the world's treasures, he would be more successful at taking them. Yes, taking them for himself. If he could somehow manage to get his wings on this treasure, he could hoard it. Better yet, he could sell it. Certainly, whatever Denmark considered their most treasured items would be worth a great deal of cash. He would be set for life. Plus, he could really stick it to the organization for daring to fire him. Yes, that's what he would do! He couldn't fail - he had to acquire whatever was behind that vault. As a trusted agent, it couldn't be too difficult to access it. Once taking the treasure, he would disappear and live off the cash it had earned him. He would live like a king and finally make a name for himself - as the puffin that vexed not only the Animal Commisszion Protection Agency, but the entire country of Denmark. His name would go down in history. Everyone would remember the name Hans the Puffin. One way or another.
Hans had prepared for this mission like no other. By the time the big night came, he was more than ready for his sudden career change. Whoever his partner would be, he would tell them that he heard a noise coming from the other side of the vault. Then, he would sneak in, undetected and make off with the goods. If anyone saw him, they wouldn't think anything of it, right? He was a harmless secret agent just trying to do his job. Or so it would appear. No one would be the wiser.
In his restlessness, he arrived at the rendezvous late. As he made his way up to the site, he could see the outline of his partner. It was a familiar figure, but he couldn't quite make it out. As he got closer, his fears were confirmed. The very worst agent that they could have chosen to be his partner for the mission. It was none other than their golden child of an agent and his palsy walsy for that matter.
"Hans!" Skipper calls to him, eager to see that he is no longer alone but not too friendly. Again, he wants to keep his distance after getting hurt last. "Looks like we'll be working together tonight."
If any of the agents were to catch him, it would be Skipper. Hans had to admit to himself, as much as he hated to, the kid was impressive. But he wouldn't, he couldn't. His plan was foolproof - it had to be. Besides whether or not he could pull it off, what was the morality of betraying his friend? But Skipper would be fine. He would never know that Hans stole the treasure until it was too late. The worst thing that would happen to him would be a slap on the flippers. Maybe he would get demoted temporarily or suspended from missions for a while. It would serve him right, possibly give him a sense of what Hans had felt all this time. That was fair, right?
"Oh, did you hear that?" Hans jumps at this pseudo-noise he had apparently heard.
"Hear what?" Skipper immediately raises his guard.
"It sounded like it came from the other side of the vault!" Hans points with urgency.
"Hmm," Skipper is still very serious. Could there be a possible break-in? And so early into their shift? This wasn't good. Maybe they should have one of them stationed on the opposite end. Though he wasn't even sure there was a means of entrance over there.
Skipper is already moving. "I'll go scope it out and report back."
As he is mid-slide, Hans stops him. "Wait!"
Skipper stops and leaps back to his feet. "What?"
"I'll - " Just as Hans proposes that he should be the one to go. He realizes he has even better access to the vault where he currently stands. Slipping in and out would be a piece of cake. "Wait right here until you get back."
"All right," Skipper is a little confused by Hans's jumpiness. Normally he would find this suspicious, but he shakes off the thought. He ignores his gut instinct. Hans was probably just nervous for his first mission outside of the agency. Not to mention, he had a lot riding on the success of this mission. Skipper had heard all about it through the grapevine.
As soon as Skipper reaches the other side of the vault, he scans his surroundings. Nothing. There was no one there - not a soul. So, what could have made that noise? Old building structure maybe? Again, he assumes it was Hans's nerves getting the best of him. He shakes his head, but goes to take the threat seriously. It was better to be paranoid than sorry, so he searched every nook and cranny. Still, there was no sign of any intruder.
That's when a blaring alarm sends his heart out of rhythm for a second. He jumps. That wasn't possible. He was guarding the back and Hans was stationed at the front. This had to be a false alarm. Literally. He had never had such a thing happen when he was on a case. What in the mad, mad, mad world was going on? He races back towards the front.
Hans stands in the vault. Looks like he forgot to account for the chance they had an alarm system. There is a glaringly red light above, shining down on his attempted crime. It was rather unflattering. But was more startling perhaps was the so-called treasure that surrounded him. It wasn't jewels, diamonds, gold, or cash.
"Open-faced sandwiches? Really?" Hans looks down disappointed at his loot. What could he do with these?
"Hans," Skipper reaches the ajar door. This dunce was going to get them in trouble. He scolds. "What're you doing in here? If the Danes catch us in here, they're going to think we were stealing their…"
Skipper is just as surprised as Hans. "Open-faced sandwiches?"
Hans shrugs.
"Listen, Hans," Skipper begins talking as Hans gets lost in his own thoughts. "We either have to get out of here or deactivate this alarm somehow."
As Hans looks from the open-faced sandwiches to Skipper, his mind hatches a new plan. He can hardly believe this wasn't his original plan. It was so dastardly yet so brilliant. Why incriminate himself when he could find himself a fall guy? Clearly, he wasn't going to make any money off of these sandwiches. It wouldn't be enough to last him a month even. Instead, he could elevate his status within the organization. Here Skipper was in this vault with him. Who's to say Skipper wasn't the villain all along, trying to work his way up the ranks of the agency just to rob them blind at the first chance? Would that be a good enough story? Who knows but it would be Hans's word against Skipper's. Oh, but could he justify it? Could he really betray his friend for praise and notoriety? It had always been so easy for Skipper, when Hans had struggled and scrounged his way to … the middle of the pack. But if he framed Skipper here and now, Hans might even receive a promotion. He would be hailed a hero. Skipper would be fired no doubt and brought to shame, but he would find other opportunities, right? Surely, he would bounce back. Hans needed this. No matter what decision he made, there was no going back.
[To Be Continued]