Sly 2: Earthbound

Sly scratched the uncomfortable blond wig resting on his head and thought for the hundredth time that day, How did I get myself into this?
The overly animated teacher was chattering away, pointing deliberately at vibrantly colored pictures posted on the whiteboard. He looked around disdainfully at all the eager, sugar crazed, barley potty-trained children hanging off her every word. God, the little monsters disgusted him, but here he was, disguised as one to kidnap some kid. Sly, the infamous slither, thief from the fairy tales in your nightmares, was blundering around like a clueless kindergartener. He wasn’t even aware of the full mission, just that he had to pluck a certain brat and scram.
“Neo?” the teacher questioned brightly, “What’s this a picture of?” Sly, recognizing his fake name, glanced at the photo under her finger that was tipped with flaming red fingernail polish. Quickly, like they had discovered something new, some of the human young near him spun around and started whispering loudly, “Neo!!!! Psssssssssst! Neo, it’s a doggie!” Ignoring their frantic movements to get his attention, he observed the picture and determined it was not, in fact, a doggie.
Glaring straight into the teacher’s face he announced icily, “It’s a lupine.” The children stopped in mid-gesture, gawking at him in bewilderment. Mrs. What's-her-face’s smile drooped as she processed what he’d said. After a moment of total silence she asked sweetly, “What exactly did you say?”
Without breaking eye contact and with no hesitation he spat, “Did I stutter?”
She was furious; obviously no one had talked back to this stubborn old lay that lived with her fourteen cats in a lonely apartment. Her face was covered in red blotches of swelling anger and her hand, still raised pointing at the wolf photo, was shaking in suppressed rage.
“Neo,” she hissed, surprisingly calm, “You will go to time-out, now.”
Time-out. Ha. Frustration was seeping though him, he could not take one more dose of this perky, pompous woman. He was tired of being spoken to like a naïve, unintelligent inferior that was no more knowledgeable than a senseless troll. “Is that a dare?” he challenged fiercely. The puzzled children were gaping at them both, the teacher standing at the front of the poster plastered room, and the rebellious student in the middle, leaning back in his tiny plastic chair. Sly sneered superiorly at the shocked lady, whose hand remained locked over the wolf. It was quiet as electricity crackled between their gazes, Sly refusing to glance away.
It seemed forever they glowered at each other, until they stupid brats began to get restless. Sly heard them shuffling unhappily in their seats, tapping crayons but not daring to speak. Acquiescently defeated, the teacher lowered her head and finally moved positions as she attended to the little horrors. Sly stuck out his tongue in a victory celebration, making sure the loathsome woman noticed him.
Weaving thought the chairs and tables, the teacher passed out simple color sheets with a defiant expression darting across her face each time she glanced at him. When she arrived at his table she gave him a sheet with a revoltingly pink sticky note attached then scurried to her desk. He read it quickly, his sharp eyes sweeping rapidly over the neat cursive.

I assume you know how to read, Mr. Lupine, since you seem to know more than everyone else. Please see me after class before recess; we need to discuss things.

He grinned and snickered. Oh, she was going to butt heads with him, she had met her match indeed! Sly crumpled the note in his small fist and gave the teacher a devious wink. Expertly tossing the paper behind him, it landed with impossible accuracy in the trashcan, the teacher following its flight through the air with her astonished eyes. And he had a smirk on his face when she returned her dumfounded gaze back to him.

* * *

“NEO!” his teacher bellowed, her obnoxious voice echoing in the hallway. So, hiding his absolute revulsion of the lady, he turned around with mild apathy pasted on his face. She motioned firmly for him to come stand by her next to the door. Her wild movements and angry voice had caused the herd of kids to stop and stare at the pair.
The playground monitor tried to get them to continue outside, but they ignored the teacher, too intrigued by what was going to occur to the mischievous new kid. Obediently, for once, he skipped over and smiled politely, annoyingly suppressing his defiance in the presence of other adults. He peered innocently up at her, waiting expectantly.
Glaring at him with flagrance, she announced loudly, for his ‘peers’ to hear, “Neo, this is Mr. Myers, our principal.” And she stepped aside to reveal a tall, thin man with a pitiful mustache and a nearly vacant scalp. He was dressed in an unnecessary black suite and red tie, like he was attending a funeral after he managed the elementary school. The principal had a perplexed air about him, like he had dominance but didn't seem to know how to manage all that authority.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Myers, what brings you here?” Sly said smugly, holding out his hand in a mature greeting.
With an unsure glance at Mrs. What’s-her-face, he shook Sly’s hand. “This is not a good visit, I’m afraid,” Mr. Myers said, thankfully in a casual, conversational voice opposite to the irritating baby tone his teacher used. “I hear you were being rude your teacher. What is that about?” Sly’s dark eyes narrowed accusingly.
“I don’t respect people who don’t respect me,” he said simply, glancing meaningfully to the teacher. The principal looked startled as he straightened his tie awkwardly and looked around for a distraction. Sly used this moment to swept the scene, quickly analyzing the situation, locating the targeted little girl and his escape routes, feeling it was time to complete this ridiculous mission before things really got out of hand. Exasperating enough, some other teachers had wandered out in the hallway with their classes, completely clogging the tunnel. They were all watching the two authority figures readying to become prey to a kindergartener.
“When did I disrespect you?” Mrs. God-I-cant-remember-her-name-but-I-don’t-care-anyways snapped, drawing their attention back to the conversation. “I’ve always treated you like everyone else.”
Okay, now I’m getting really impatient, Sly thought edgily. A slither-like vicious look crept upon his petite face, contorted it in a completely un-childish expression. He noticed with sick satisfaction Mr. Myers and his teacher flinch. “Well,” he hissed, icicles dripping from his words, “You treat everyone like crap.”
He rashly burst form his disguise in the middle of the hall. His lean, yet short body ripped from his Spongebob t-shirt, the wig whipped off, flailing through the air like a hairy bird, leaving his pointed ears uncovered. The Magic Texture (patented by Wacky Wizard Co.) used to hide his black scales with a humanlike skin slid off, revealing his serpent features. His diamond blue eyes gave a hard blink causing the contacts to pop out and display his real, coal black irises. All this happened in a half a second, so suddenly where there had been a troubling making little boy now stood a nightmarish creature.
Mrs. Your-going-down gasped and screeched, utter terror stitched on her face. Sly smiled, opening his mouth wide so she could see his expertly pointed fangs. Still screaming like a raging lunatic, she bolted through the crowd, shoving kids down in her path to freedom. He decided the mission was more important than pursuing her, so he settled for a triumphant snicker. Sly materialized his wings and was drifting up to the ceiling as he flapped gently. Unable to stop himself, he cast the astonished Mr. Myers a check-this-out look. Teachers and children were shrieking and dashing around rampantly, accomplishing nothing, so it was easy to snatch the target. She was sobbing and making no attempt to move out of the way of the other children’s frantic courses. She was undersized and pale, sporting a simple pink shirt and grubby jeans. Pinpointing her golden head, he dove and swept her up in his tight grasp, which she did not struggle in but became oddly motionless. Feeling highly satisfied, he hurtled out the nearest window.
The ruckus of the panicked group faded as Sly pushed his flight speed to the maximum. The rushing wind caused the little girls golden hair to lash at his face, an extremely aggravating drawback when you wanted to shoot like a bullet through the cool limitless air. Even of the air smelled like reeking pollution, suffocating the globe. So he slowed down enough to dangle the kid out in front of him. Putting on the sweetest smile, he cooed, “Hi, there! I’m Neo, what's your name?” The girl just stared at him with huge green eyes and an expression of mild terror, almost if the horror had worn off. “Can you please tell me your name?” he insisted with polite persistence. She just whimpered tearfully, and Sly felt the last bit of patience vanish. Manners don’t do anything if the person’s frightened to death, he thought sourly and pulled the hostage in a tighter grasp so she wouldn’t fall.
He yanked his sleek cell phone from his tattered jeans pocket and quickly flipped it open. Dialing like an addicted cell phone user with no life outside this device, Sly entered his employer’s number. He waited impatiently as the phone gurgled in his ear. Jeez, humans call that a ring? They ought to hear the fairy bells, now that’s a true ring, he thought snidely.
“Hello?” said the phone suddenly.
Glancing unsurely at it he responded, “Hey, boss, its Sly.”
“Ah, yes, my old friend. You have the child?” the quiet voice murmured
“Yessir!” he exclaimed eagerly, ready for more information, “What are my instructions now?”
“Are you away from the school?” questioned the boss in a rushed tone.
“Yessir,” Sly answered, a bit unnerved. Why did Blight the vilest thief care so much about this stupid kid and her awful school?
“Good,” Blight said, sounding oddly relieved, “Now, listen to me carefully, the girl you have is about to explode.”
Sly plunged down toward the earth as he forgot to flap his wings when the shock paralyzed him. But he regained his composure and tried to steady his flight. Not saying a word, he brought the phone away from his ear and used the hand to brush some hair away from the girl’s neck. A small timer was implanted there, beeping silently as red numbers flashed threateningly across the minuscule screen. She wasn’t alive at all, she a mechanical weapon carrier. Before he could drop her, before he could dart away, before he could even ask Blight what was going on, the disguised bomb detonated, exploding right in his arms.