Life was never easy, but no one ever said it would be.

The challenges and constant fights are what made it so exciting in his opinion.

Though it was always good to know when one lost the fight. It saved them a lot of pain and humiliation.

Dying was easy.

Like falling asleep really after a quick brief moment of pain.

He didn't want to die, but sometimes you just didn't get what you wanted.

He wasn't sure what he expected when he closed his eyes for that final time- A white pearly gate? The burning pits of Hell? Nothing but darkness?- but he could honestly say he sure as hell didn't expect to open them again.

Life was difficult.

Dying was easy.

Getting a retry with a brand new life and slate...Well throw someone else under that bus, will you?

Buck Rockgut was never considered a simple Penguin. He had been born and breed to follow in his Father's footsteps as an Agent, something he had done with a sense of pride.

HIs perfect little word had been laid out perfectly for him, filled with black and white scenarios at every turn. Everything had been planned to a T with no wasted motions or actions.

Of course that had all changed when he had first meet a Red Squirrel, who for once- represented what he know knew to be -a darker shade of grey. He was a dilemma to the Agent who's world had been so stereotyped:

One moment a villain like he was labeled doing disastrous deeds as to be expected but the next you would find him doing things that didn't quiet add up; Playing with children, Planting trees, saving his life once.

He was different, neither the black and white; Good and Evil, the American had been taught. Instead he seemed Chaotic.

It had drawl him in like a moth to the flame.

Then came the Spy that followed his new obsession.

Like the squirrel this emerald eyed penguin didn't fit in his stereotype view. He was a lighter shade of grey compared to the squirrel but a shade of grey none the less. He was complicated:

He fought the squirrel like he supposed to but there was something in the way they fought that spoke volumes. And how quick he could turn on anyone else who tried to go after the Russian, including Rockgut.

They had pulled off his rose tinted glasses, forcing the American to realize things weren't quite what they seemed.

His perfect little life wasn't so perfect and rather dull.

Orders that had once made sense now seemed questionable when he looked at them.

Corruption ran further through their Agency then anyone could have suspected. Unfortunately when you looked too close there was always consequences which came in the lives of his team- the only reason he had been spared then was because no one had expected him to be the one doing the investigation.

After that, the rouge eyed penguin would admit he had sort of lost it, bit by bit.


They're all involved. They all knew.


They're following me, waiting for me to slip up. I need to get out of here.


Squirrel. Red Squirrel.

Looking back on it now, Buck could plainly see where he had finally lost it. He had allowed his mind to get the best of him and went Rouge before anyone could pick up the signs and stop him.

Oh but how free he had felt during those years- even when hiding underground. Nothing could touch him that, let alone harm him.

Not even when he ran about searching for Red in obviously fake places, the Spy's nephew had made up.

Of course all good things must come to an end. It was a rather abrupt ending but it was kind of suiting in its own way.

Shame he dragged the other two in it with him but at least the corruption had been dealt with.

Closing his eyes, Buck Rockgut had allowed himself to let go of his failing grip on life.

He allowed his book to finally close.

Or so he thought.

Reincarnation, the Soul Recyclation , a new start at life.

It was a wonderful thing of new being, new chances and utter dreams that would never die- that is if you wanted it.

And if you didn't?

Well the Gods always did have a sense of humor and unfortunately you have been chosen as Fate's new toy.

Sorry, no refunds allowed.

He allowed his book to finally close.

Or so he thought.


That was all Buck Rockgut was aware of in the beginning. A never ending abyss that swallowed him whole.

Really he wasn't all that surprised at the lack of pearly gates or fiery pits considering his life. If appeared neither Heaven or Hell wanted him.

So this must be his fate.

An enteral damnation of floating about in the darkness with no hope of ever escaping with only his memories and thoughts to keep him company.

Really it wasn't that bad- if he was being optimistic- he could think of worse places to be.

He wasn't sure how long he floated about it before he heard it.

"Its time! It's time! It's Time!"

The panicking voice broke through the darkness.


"What do I do?!"

Glancing around with a sense of confusion- for the first time in what seemed like decades- the rouge eyed penguin tried to figure out exactly where in the void it was coming from.

"James, Calm down!"

A sharp woman's voice cut through the darkness along with a sound that suspiciously resembled that of someone being slapped. As he- rather confusedly- watched the darkness seemed to close in on him and the voices grew louder.

What the Hell was going on here?!

His eyes!

God the light was blinding, especially after so long in he darkness. Closing his eyes rather quickly the Penguin tried to raise his flippers to block out the light only to come short as he fount they wouldn't raise all that much.

Feeling himself being picked up the Agent's eyes shot open only to be blinded by a rather scratchy towel rubbing at this.

What type of Hell was this?

After a brief futile moment of trying to struggle away from the rag, it finally stopped and instead the Penguin fount himself wrapped tightly in a bundle of fluffiness before being handed off to someone.

"He's beautiful."

A woman's soft voice spoke up before a man chuckled. Following the voice the Penguin fount himself staring at two humans, one with hair like fire and the other's as black as night.

"Well he is Ours. What else is to be expected?"


Wait a moment...Was this...No...It couldn't be...

Except the facts didn't lie:

The darkness.

The voices.

The hospital smell and the nurses still in the room.

Feeling rather sick, the American(?)- was he still American? They had an accent like the Nancy Cat's- forced himself not to throw up as a new memory fount its way into the 'Things That Traumatized Me For Life' file. He was diffidently going to require therapy for this.