Flipper Attack

Panting, he finally slipped into an alleyway, hidden from view. He collapsed against the cool stone wall, the fish still clutched in his beak. The absurdity of his situation hit him again, but this time, there was a sense of dark humor to it.

I just stole a fish, he thought. As a penguin. In New York City.

Despite everything, he felt a tiny flicker of pride. His human mind clung to the ridiculousness of it all as a way to cope, to keep from spiraling into despair. He dropped the fish at his feet and started pecking at it awkwardly, his beak clumsily tearing pieces of flesh away.

It wasn't bad, honestly. Cold and slimy, but surprisingly satisfying. As he ate, he realized how hungry he had been—whether it was the penguin instincts or just the stress of the situation, he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that this fish was the first real win he'd had since waking up like this.

But the momentary victory was short-lived.

A strange noise echoed through the alley, something that didn't belong in the usual city soundscape. Jiang's beady penguin eyes darted toward the entrance of the alley, and his stomach dropped.

Out of the shadows emerged a sleek, shadowy figure. It moved with unnatural fluidity, its body low to the ground, sleek and almost feral. For a split second, Jiang thought it was a stray dog—but the longer he looked, the more wrong it seemed.

Its eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and its movements were too deliberate, too focused. Whatever this thing was, it was hunting.

Jiang's heart raced again. He was in no shape to deal with this. He was a penguin, damn it! A fish thief, maybe, but not a fighter.

The system's cold voice rang in his head once more.

"Hostile entity detected. Evasion recommended."

No kidding! Jiang thought, desperately looking for a way out.

The creature snarled, its eyes locked onto him. It was closing in fast, too fast for Jiang's awkward waddling to get him far. He tried to dart to the side, his flippers slapping uselessly against the pavement as he scrambled for an exit.

"Use environment for cover. Heightened reflexes activated."

The system's words were hardly reassuring, but Jiang had no choice but to listen. His body reacted on instinct, moving faster than he thought possible for a penguin. He slid between a stack of crates, narrowly avoiding the creature's lunge. Its claws scraped against the concrete, sending sparks flying as it missed its mark by inches.

Jiang flailed, his small body sliding and stumbling through the narrow alleyway. He could hear the creature snarling behind him, its footsteps heavy and predatory. His heart pounded in his chest, panic rising with every step.

I can't outrun it, he thought. I need to hide!

His beady eyes darted around, searching for something—anything—that could give him an advantage. And then he saw it: an open manhole, the metal cover slightly askew. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

Without hesitating, Jiang lunged toward the hole. His small body squeezed through the opening just as the creature lunged again, its claws swiping at empty air.

Jiang tumbled down into the darkness, his body bouncing off the slick walls of the sewer as he slid downward. The air was cold and damp, the smell foul, but he didn't care. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

With a splash, he landed in shallow, murky water at the bottom of the sewer tunnel. His body ached from the fall, but he forced himself to stand, shaking off the grime and filth. He looked up, expecting the creature to follow, but it hadn't. The manhole above was silent.

Jiang let out a long, shaky breath. He was safe—for now.

The system pinged again in his mind.

"Mission updated: Find a safe place to rest. Time remaining: 23 hours, 12 minutes."

Jiang groaned. Twenty-three hours? He wasn't sure he'd survive the next ten minutes, let alone a full day.

He waddled forward, his tiny feet splashing through the shallow water as he moved deeper into the sewer. The dim light from the manhole above faded, and he was left in near darkness, the sound of his own footsteps echoing around him.

"I can't believe this is my life now," he muttered to himself, his voice coming out as a sad honk. "A penguin... running from monsters in the sewers."

He paused for a moment, taking stock of his situation. He was a flightless bird with no real combat abilities, hiding in a sewer from some unknown predator. The system was barely giving him any help, and he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do for the next 23 hours.

But one thing was clear: he couldn't keep running forever.

He had to learn how to fight back.

The thought was terrifying, but the system had given him one thing—heightened reflexes. Maybe, just maybe, he could figure out how to use this body, how to turn his penguin form into something more than just prey.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "First step: figure out how to survive."

His flippers slapped against the wet ground as he moved deeper into the tunnel, the darkness pressing in around him. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he had no choice but to move forward.

And as he disappeared into the shadows, the faint sound of claws scraping against metal echoed from above.