The Bad Guys, page 2
Snake’s head drooped under the weight of the hat, and his mood drooped with it. “You do realize we’re in the middle of a chase, right?”
Shark glanced back, noticing with only the slightest concern that the cops on their tail had drawn dangerously close to their getaway car. It was time to put the pedal to the metal, or they’d be caught!
But based on Wolf’s wolfish grin, there was one last trick up his sleeve. “And rounding out the crew …” he said as he swerved the wheel to throw one of the cop cars offtrack. He glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see the glove box of one of the police cars pop open, revealing the final member of their team.
“Surprise!” Mr. Piranha shouted, leaping into the face of the nearest cop. He flipped and flopped around the inside of the police car like a Tasmanian devil, causing the car to swerve off course. At the precise moment, Piranha jumped out the window into another cop car. He jumped from cop car to cop car—causing mass chaos.
“He’s a loose cannon with a short fuse,” Wolf cried out, watching his pal do his best work. “Willing to scrap with anyone or anything.” Behind them, Piranha continued to leap and jump in the air, now landing on the roofs of each of the cars pursuing the Bad Guys. “He’s brave …” Wolf continued announcing. “He’s fearless …” Eventually, Piranha bounced onto the windshield of the lead cop car, freaking out the driver, who slammed on his brakes and caused a massive pileup. “Who am I kidding? He’s crazy!”
Moments later, Piranha pinballed up and through the air, landing in the Bad Guy mobile.
“Santo cielo,” Piranha whooped. “That’s a lot of popo!”
“Piranha,” Tarantula said slowly, “did you forget something?”
“Uhhh …” Piranha said, looking around nervously. He’d been pretty sure he’d taken care of all the cops in hot pursuit, but maybe he’d missed one? Nah.
“The present …” Shark prompted. He gestured toward Snake, still hard at work on the safe in the front seat.
“Oh! Um, of course I didn’t forget …” Piranha said hastily, covering for himself. He’d totally forgotten the present. As his friends shot daggers at him with their eyes, Piranha ripped a tiny fart.
Webs shook her head. “You know, you fart when you lie.”
Piranha cowered under her stare. “I fart when I’m nervous.”
“Yeah,” Webs countered. “Nervous about lying!”
Unable to stop it from happening, Piranha launched another fart—but this time it was a giant, silent-but-deadly one. Within seconds, the entire car filled with noxious green gas.
“PIRANHA!” The rest of the Bad Guys screamed.
“Sorry …” Piranha squeaked.
“Don’t breathe it in,” Wolf reminded the others.
Shark started freaking out and flopped around in the backseat of the car. “I breathed it in!”
The rest of the Bad Guys coughed and stuck their heads out the windows, gasping for fresh air.
As soon as the gas dissipated inside the car, Wolf looked around at his crazy collection of friends and thought—once again—about how lucky he was. “Yeah, they’re a bit eccentric,” he muttered, continuing his little narration as the other Bad Guys continued to shriek and wail about the fart. “But,” he said, chuckling, “when you’re born us, friends don’t exactly grow on trees. Do I wish people didn’t see us as monsters?” he wondered aloud. “Sure … but these are the cards we’ve been dealt, so we might as well play ’em.”
Just then, Snake successfully cracked the safe. It clicked open and Snake whooped with delight. “Jackpot!”
Wolf beamed at him. “Nice work, birthday boy.”
Snake hissed back.
Laughing, Wolf spun the car and drifted into position right in front of the police station. The safe popped out in front of a gaggle of cops, who were all standing in front of the building. Every single pair of eyes turned to stare.
“What the thorax?!” Tarantula gasped.
“Are you crazy?” Piranha gurgled.
“What?” Wolf said, winking. “I just wanted a longer car chase. It’s the best part.”
The chief of police glared out the window. Beside her, one of the other cops said, “Chief … it’s … it’s …”
“THEM!” The chief screamed, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. She burst out the front doors of the station. She was going to get her mitts on those horrible criminals one of these days! It was her life’s greatest ambition.
“Webs,” Wolf said. “Hit it.”
Tarantula pressed play on the stereo, and music blared out of the Bad Guy mobile.
“Get them!” the police chief screamed.
Dancing and singing along to the music, Wolf and his friends sped through the streets of Los Angeles. Behind them, a whole new fleet of cop cars had now joined the chase. The chief’s car pulled up beside them, and she climbed out the window—she would do whatever it took to catch the Bad Guys! The chief grabbed the door of Wolf’s car and pulled it toward her with tremendous strength.
Wolf’s face broke into an even wider smile. There was nothing quite as satisfying as seeing frustration written all over his favorite police chief’s face. And he had a great view of her face, seeing as she was hanging—suspended—between her own car and his, like a bridge.
“I’m going to put you guys away for so long, your fleas will have fleas!” She growled.
Shark leaned out the window. “Chief … you want some cake?” he offered. “You seem a little hangry.”
The chief shouted back, “Get that thing out of my face before I—”
“Excuse me,” Wolf cut her off. “Excuse me, Chief!”
“What?” The police chief sputtered.
Wolf gestured with his chin for the chief to take a look at the road ahead. While she’d been focusing on stopping the Bad Guy mobile, her own car had nearly sideswiped a bus! “Ahhhhhhhh!” she screamed, climbing back into her car and clutching the wheel just in time to prevent a collision.
“Uh,” Piranha said, glancing nervously out the car’s front window. “Hermano …” Wolf was driving straight toward a blockade of police cars. They were totally boxed in! But Wolf just kept accelerating as if he didn’t see that there was nowhere for them to go but straight into the blockade.
“WOLLLFFF!” his pals screamed.
At the very last second, Wolf threw the steering wheel to the left and drove down a huge staircase. As they bumped down the stairs, all the Bad Guys flew out the sunroof, flipping and flopping in midair, before landing back in the car with a thud. And Snake’s birthday cake had come out of the whole ordeal no worse for the wear …
“Yeah,” Wolf muttered, pleased as punch about yet another perfectly executed heist. “We may be bad guys … but we’re so good at it.”
As the police cars crashed to a halt behind them, the chief climbed out of her car and growled when the Bad Guys disappeared into the sunset. “Not again,” she fumed. “No! No! No! No! No! Keep running, Wolf. One of these days, your luck is gonna run out.”
Wolf had heard that line plenty of times before. Much as the chief liked to think she had the Bad Guys in her crosshairs, she just couldn’t seem to catch them. And with Wolf’s secret lair, they had a nice, comfy place to hide out until it was time for their next heist.
Now that they’d successfully dodged their way through a second cop chase, they headed for the lair. They zoomed into a river aqueduct, crossed through an abandoned tunnel, then finally arrived at an unmarked set of doors that opened automatically for them. Wolf steered the car into the parking lift, and the doors to the lair’s entrance sealed up behind them.
Safe and sound at home, hidden among the streets of Los Angeles.
Inside Wolf’s lair, all their prized, stolen possessions were on full display. The roomy loft had plenty of space to display jewels, cash, priceless works of art, and all the other treasures they’d acquired over the years. But today, the centerpiece of the whole place was the birthday spread set up in the kitchen. Balloons hung from the ceiling, signs calling out HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and a spot in the center of the table for Snake’s tasty birthday cake.
Wolf bounced across the room to deliver the cake to its rightful spot. Everyone else gathered around, preparing to sing to their grumpy pal. “Alright, Piranha, you’re up,” Wolf said. He knew Snake wasn’t expecting this, but who wouldn’t love the chance to have everyone celebrate you?
In a surprisingly clear and lovely voice, Piranha began to sing. “Happy birthd—”
Piranha’s voice sounded like an angel singing, but before he could even get through the first line of the classic birthday song, Snake blew out the candles on the cake and glared at his friends, immediately killing the mood and his pal’s song.
“Seriously?” Tarantula groaned.
“C’mon, Snake,” Wolf said, nudging the birthday guy. “At least make a toast!”
Snake sighed. “Okay, alright, listen. I’ve made a lot of enemies in my time. A lot. But out of all the people in the world, I hate you guys the least.”
The other four were caught off-guard by this extreme compliment. Coming from Snake, that kind of sentiment meant a whole lot. “Awwww,” Tarantula cooed.
Piranha began to tear up, overcome by his friend’s emotional words. “That was actually kind of beautiful …”
Shark nodded. “You’re a poet, man.”
Wolf lifted his glass into the air while Snake crossed his nubby snake arms in defiance. “To Mr. Snake,” Wolf cheered. “And his strange dislike of birthdays.”
Wolf, Webs, Shark, and Piranha all cheered loudly while Snake waved them off—he was totally overcome with embarrassment. Snake always hated this kind of attention.
As Wolf lifted his arms in front of them all, preparing to take a selfie to capture the big moment, he cried out, “Everyone say ‘Robbery!’ ” He inspected the picture, grinning at the result. “Look at those dimples … happy birthday, buddy.”
Snake gestured to the cake, perched like a prize in the center of the table. “Okay, now dig in, fellas.” His four friends had all been staring hungrily at the cake for far too long, and he knew they couldn’t wait to take a slice.
But before any of the others could react, Piranha buzzed through the cake, leaving only a sad-looking cake skeleton that collapsed before he had even wiped the leftover frosting off his fishy lips.
“Come on!” Wolf howled.
“Hey!” Shark moaned.
Tarantula stared at the empty cake plate in horror.
“You snooze, you lose.” Piranha shrugged, smacking his mouth.
Across the room, Snake hardly even noticed the cake argument happening at the table. He was too busy sticking the newest group selfie on the fridge, admiring this one lined up next to all their other Bad Guy “family” photos. They’d really had some good times over the years, he and the guys. He reached into the freezer to grab his own favorite treat—a frozen push pop.
But before he could even open the thing, Shark popped up behind him and started moaning and drooling with hunger. “Ooh …” Shark moaned. “Push pops! Man, my tummy is rumbling like a kraken right now.”
“Yeah,” Snake knew the push pop was the last one in the box. And his friend wanted it … “Want one?”
Tarantula called out, “You know he’s not going to give it to you, Shark.”
Shark shook his head. “No, I believe that deep down, Snake is a kind and generous soul.”
After a pause, Tarantula asked, “Why?”
Snake held out the pop, waving the icy treat in front of his friend’s nose. “Here. Take it.”
Shark grinned and opened his mouth wide. “Oh, yeah! Pop me, please!”
But before Shark could get even his first row of teeth on the push pop, Snake tossed it into his own gaping mouth and swallowed it whole. Laughing, he teased, “Sucker!”
“Come on, man,” Shark whined. “Now you’re gonna make me get all aggressive.” He growled and pounced on his friend. The two Bad Guys began to brawl, fighting over a push pop that was now long gone.
Gazing fondly at his two best friends, fighting over an icy treat like a couple of brothers, Wolf mused, “Aw, you guys are a bunch of animals.” Wolf loved his gang of friends, and that love grew a little more every day. He knew he was lucky to have such incredible pals. He snapped on the TV, settling into the couch as he said, “Let’s see what they’re saying about us today.”
On the TV, there was a banner that read: BREAKING NEWS! A young, ambitious news reporter named Tiffany Fluffit was standing in front of the massive police car pileup the Bad Guys had left in their wake not half an hour before. Tiffany had been eagerly waiting for her big break as a reporter, and it looked very much like she’d finally found it! “Tiffany Fluffit,” she chirped into a microphone, “Channel Six Action News. The Bad Guys have struck again, with their most brazen heist yet! Proving once again that they are the most diabolical criminals of our time—”
“Guys,” Wolf called out, trying to cut through the sounds of the push pop battle happening behind him. “Stop it! We’re on TV.” Everyone stopped fighting and crowded in around the couch to see what the news was reporting about them after today’s bank robbery.
“Ooh, diabolical,” Tarantula said, rubbing her eight legs together. “That’s new.”
“Sounds like a cologne.” Shark giggled. He switched to a suave, cologne-ad voice. “Diaboooolical …”
Everyone grabbed a seat on the couch, eager to see what more would be said.
The reporter, Tiffany, continued, “Here to address this heinous crime spree is the newly elected governor, Diane Foxington.”
“Governor?” Wolf gasped, amazed that they’d gotten attention from someone so high up in the government. This was the big time!
On the television screen, a sophisticated-looking fox with a powerful business suit and a “don’t-mess-with-me” air about her stepped up to the microphone. Behind her stood the angry-looking police chief. As a gaggle of reporters fired questions at the governor, she held up her hand calmly and said, “We all know how dastardly the Bad Guys are …”
Wolf leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “You bet we are!”
“But more than anything,” Governor Foxington continued, “I feel sorry for them.”
Wolf stared at the screen in horror. “What?!”
The governor continued, “These so-called ‘Bad Guys’ are really just second-rate has-beens. Behind their amateurish antics and, frankly, unoriginal capers, I mean really … another bank is nothing but a deep well of anger—”
“I ain’t angry!” Piranha shrieked. “You’re angry!” He jumped forward and tried to bite the governor through the TV. Shark gently but firmly pulled him away, so they could see what more she would say.
“—denial,” the governor added.
“Not true!” Tarantula snapped.
“—and self-loathing,” Diane Foxington continued.
“The only one I self-loathe is you!” Snake hissed.
Unable to hear them through the TV, obviously, the governor just rambled on with her ridiculous word vomit. “And those are holes that no amount of cash or priceless art can ever fill.”
As she finished her monologue, the Bad Guys all looked uncomfortable. They were used to people fearing them, sure. Hating them, sometimes. Admiring them? Probably. But no one had every pitied and felt bad for them. That was low. Wolf wasn’t sure what to think about the governor’s words. What if some part of what she was saying was … true?
Snake reached for the remote and asked, “What’s on the Food Network?”
But before he could change the channel, the governor had more to get out. “So, let’s forget about the Bad Guys,” she said confidently. “And focus on more positive things! And what could be more positive than the annual Good Samaritan Awards, where tomorrow night I will present the Golden Dolphin to this year’s ‘Goodest Citizen.’ ”
Wolf flicked off the TV, fuming. He didn’t need to hear any more.
“I can’t believe I voted for her,” Tarantula muttered.
“You voted for her?” Piranha asked, incredulous.
Tarantula shrugged. “She’s good on climate change!”
Snake suddenly noticed that Wolf had a mischievous smile spread across his face. That smile only meant one thing: an idea. A plan. A bad, bad plan. Snake asked, “What—what are you—you’ve got that twinkle in your eye.”
Wolf’s grin grew even wider. “Guys, who’s up for another job?” he asked, his voice a mix of laughter and excitement. “A BIG ONE.” He opened one of the shades in the apartment, revealing a giant billboard announcing the “Good Samaritan Awards,” with a picture of the famous Golden Dolphin trophy in the center of everything. The dolphin itself was solid gold, with precious emeralds for eyes. It was the ultimate prize, the greatest heist possible in all the world.
“The Golden Dolphin?” Snake asked. “Seriously?”
Piranha was shocked by the idea. “Whoa … I thought I was the crazy one.”
Snake shook his head. “That job has broken every criminal who’s tried it: The Bucharest Bandits, Lucky Jim—”
Piranha cut him off to add another notorious criminal taken down during their quest for the Golden Dolphin, “El Nocturno—”
“The Crimson Paw,” Shark piped up.
Tarantula waved one hand. “Hold up! The Crimson Paw was never arrested.”
“Yeah,” Snake said. “But he never stole anything again after trying and failing to get the Golden Dolphin statue.”
Wolf shook his head, undeterred. “Snake, what better way to wipe that smirk off the governor’s fuzzy face than stealing the Golden Dolphin from right under her whiskers?” He paused, looking around to try to gauge the rest of the group’s opinion. “This is the holy grail of thievery,” he pointed out. No one had ever done it before, and there was no reason the Bad Guys couldn’t be the first to succeed. “If we pull this off, we will cement our legacy as the greatest criminals of all time!”
