Snake wasn’t convinced. “Whoa, buddy. I thought we weren’t supposed to make things personal! Besides, we’ve got a good thing going here—friends, freedom … and just look at all this loot!” Sure, it could be an amazing heist … but what if it all went wrong? They’d lose everything they’d built up until now. Snake didn’t want to do this and risk everything, just to prove some politician wrong.

  “Alright, you’re right.” Wolf sighed. “Forget it. The Dolphin job is off. I guess the rodent will get his trophy after all.”

  “Yeah, I guess he w—” Snake stopped, then swung around to look at his friend for clarification. “What … what do you mean … rodent?”

  “Oh,” Wolf said casually. “Yes, did I not mention that? That’s weird, I thought I mentioned that part.”

  He lifted another curtain, revealing the rest of the billboard outside their secret lair’s window. It showed that this year’s recipient of the Golden Dolphin award was none other than Professor Marmalade, the cutest—and most delicious-looking—guinea pig on Earth!

  Shark’s giant mouth hung open wide, revealing rows and rows of shiny, sharp teeth. “The Good Samaritan is …”

  “A guinea pig?” Tarantula laughed.

  Snake’s tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting air at the mere thought of guinea pig. That frozen push pop had done nothing to curb his appetite. What he wouldn’t give to have a nice, tasty, hairy guinea pig right about now. He snapped backward, but even just looking at the giant image of Professor Marmalade’s delicious picture was making him drool.

  “Soooo,” Wolf said in a singsong voice. “Whadd’ya say, Snakey? Better than cake.” He grinned; he knew he had Snake right where he wanted him.

  Snake growled. “Arrrrgh, okay, fine. But he better be delicious.”

  Everyone else smiled. It was a plan. A big, bad plan. Wolf put his paw into the middle of his group of friends. “Are we all in this together?” he asked, glancing at each of them in turn.

  Piranha and Shark both put their fins in. Tarantula put four of her legs in. And finally, Snake put his tail in. It was on. “Let’s do this!” they all cheered in unison.

  Wolf nodded. He couldn’t wait. “So here’s the plan: Just like every year, the ceremony will be held at the Museum of Fine Arts …”

  The plan was set. They would infiltrate the fancy-pants event at the Museum of Fine Arts, posing as guests who were there to celebrate the life and achievements of that annoying guinea pig, Professor Marmalade. During the festivities, they’d sneak backstage using Webs’s clever hacking skills. Wolf finished explaining the plan for the gang, “… where the Golden Dolphin will be positioned just beyond the backstage curtain.”

  “Pssh,” Piranha said, waving a fin. “Sounds easy.”

  “Sounds easy, hermano,” Wolf agreed. “But to get there, we need to bypass three levels of security. So. Step One: We’ll need to blend in.”

  The Bad Guys all got to work finding their costumes for the night. Since most of their lives were spent stealing, getting gussied up for a party was a new kind of fun. By the time the party rolled around, they were all set. Wolf had chosen a snazzy suit, along with a dapper fedora, silk tie, fake mustache, and tinted glasses. He had mastered the part of fancy movie star, using George Clooney as his muse and guide. That guy always looked good.

  Shark, meanwhile, had gone the opposite direction, cramming his body into a gorgeous gown that was stretched to the limit by Shark’s massive, muscular form. Perched atop Shark’s head, Tarantula had fashioned her long limbs into the shape of a butterfly fascinator hat.

  Snake went old-school, complete with a classic suit, handlebar mustache, monocle, top hat, and a pair of fake arms to help fill out the look.

  Piranha squeezed into a kid-size coat and tails, looking handsome and a bit childish—but it did the trick.

  Every one of them wore a pair of sunglasses to complete the look and to help hide their true identities from anyone who decided to look a little more closely at the characters under the costumes.

  When they arrived at the museum, they joined in with a long line of guests who were already milling about, waiting to enter the event. There was a grand staircase stretching up toward the Fine Arts Museum, and the group of disguised Bad Guys had just begun to climb the steps when a stretch limo pulled up at the bottom of the stairs. Many of the guests turned to watch as Professor Marmalade, the eccentric and good-natured do-gooder who would be honored that night, popped out of the limo and began his own march up the stairs to the party. Paparazzi flooded in around the little guinea pig, eager to snap shots of the evening’s featured guest.

  “Professor Marmalade …” Wolf muttered, rolling his eyes. “This year’s recipient of the Golden Dolphin and the most annoying good guy on the planet.”

  Marmalade waved to his crowds of adoring fans, then stepped up to talk with Tiffany Fluffit, the eager news reporter who’d been assigned to the night’s festivities. “Professor,” Tiffany started. “In the past year, you’ve stopped wars, fed the hungry, and saved countless pandas.” The reporter took a deep breath and flashed a huge smile at the nodding professor. “Some have described your goodness as second only to the Dalai Lama!”

  Professor Marmalade nodded, putting on a look of earnest humility. “Oh, Tiffany, it’s not a competition! And if it were, it would really be more of a tie. But we can all agree that there is a flower of goodness inside all of us, just waiting to blossom.”

  Everyone within earshot broke into applause, overcome with love for the oh-so-good professor. Marmalade waved to the crowd as he continued his climb up the red carpet, heading inside to the awards ceremony where even more fans were waiting for a glimpse of that evening’s headliner.

  “Once we get inside,” Wolf whispered to his friends, “There are two armored doors …” He explained how they would get into the doors that were locked and sealed tightly, with extra protections, to ensure that the beloved Golden Dolphin was safe and secure until it was thrust into Professor Marmalade’s grubby little guinea pig paws. “The first door can only be opened by a special key card that is carried at all times by our dear friend, the chief of police,” Wolf told the others. “The second is outfitted with a retinal scanner that only works with Governor Foxington’s eye, and it’s also guarded by an elite special ops unit trained to strike first and ask questions later.”

  The other Bad Guys nodded.

  Wolf pointed out, “Since Governor Foxington is the only one who has clearance to open the second door, Step Two is that she and I will need to get up close and personal …”

  As soon as they got inside, the Bad Guys searched the room. They had to find the host of the evening’s festivities, Governor Diane Foxington, who was busy welcoming guests at the main entrance of the museum. Every so often, she would pose for a picture with an adoring fan, right in front of one of the museum’s pieces of art: an abstract sculpture made using rusty, jagged metal beams.

  The moment Governor Foxington was alone, having just bid farewell to an ambassador of this or that place, Wolf sidled up beside her. His suit was impeccable, and he fit in perfectly next to the well-dressed governor. “Interesting piece,” he said, tipping his chin at the sculpture. “Trashy, pointless, and pretentious.”

  Governor Foxington smiled politely at him. “They say that art reveals more about the viewer than the artist, Mr.… ?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  Wolf immediately realized he was dealing with a politician who was much smarter than he’d given her credit for. “The name’s Poodleton,” he said. “Oliver Poodleton.” He bent over to kiss her hand, while slyly swiping the diamond ring right off her hand. “You know, it’s about time someone stood up to those diabolical Bad Guys. Though I’ve got to say, no one’s succeeded yet.”

  The governor smirked. “Oh, I don’t think it’ll be that hard.”

  “I have a feeling it will be harder than you think,” Wolf countered. “I’d say they’re one epic job away from cementing their legacy.”

  The governor—Diane, Wolf thought, now that he felt they were on a first-name basis—laughed. “Ha! Mr. Poodleton, you’re funny!”

  “I—I am?” Wolf stammered.

  “The only legacy those Bad Guys are cementing is life in prison,” Diane said certainly. “Did you see their last job?” She ticked off each of their mistakes on her long fingers. “Unsecured exits, crude disguises, compulsive showboating—I mean, it was a mess. All the classic signs of a crew in decline.” As her insults continued, Wolf started to feel more and more insecure about his skills as a thief. But then he remembered: She didn’t know anything. This was just a random politician trying to make people like her.

  Diane finished, “Next, they’re gonna make it personal. That’s when you just know the Bad Guys are toast.”

  Wolf swallowed, trying to hide his discomfort behind a cunning smile. “Uh, well, that’s your opinion, Diane.”

  Through a polished smile, she said, “And I’m the governor.” She turned to look at the ugly, trash-like sculpture again. “As for the sculpture: I think it’s about perspective. If you look closely, even trash can be recycled into something beautiful.”

  Wolf looked to where she was pointing and noticed that the sculpture’s shadow on the wall was in the shape of a gorgeous swan. Huh. “How about that?” Wolf mused. “I guess some things aren’t always as they appear.” Shaking his head to get his confidence back, Wolf tried to jump back to the plan. He grabbed his cell phone, and with the smoothness of cake frosting, he said, “That reminds me … may I? I can’t miss a photo op with the governor and a pile of garbage!”

  “Oh,” Diane said, grinning her pearly white polished smile for the camera. “You’re too hard on yourself, Mr. Poodleton.”

  Flash! Wolf snapped the selfie he needed in order to execute the next step of their plan. He’d show that arrogant Governor Foxington just how wrong she was … Diane had no idea what was in store for her—and her fancy, schmancy Golden Dolphin—that night!

  The Bad Guys were on the move.

  “Okay, friends,” Wolf said, rejoining the others on the far side of the museum’s huge entranceway. “It’s showtime!” Together, the Bad Guys stepped into the main part of the museum. A big open space had been turned into a reception area for guests of the event. Round banquet tables had been set with multicourse place settings, elegant centerpieces, and at the front of the room was a stage with a podium and a giant screen set up for a video presentation during the award ceremony itself.

  “Once we’re in,” Wolf reminded the guys. “It’s on to Step Three: Split up and take our positions.”

  Nearby, Wolf heard the police chief tell some of her crew, “Officers, if the Bad Guys crash this event, I will definitely lose my job and I will not hesitate to take you down with me. Now move out …”

  On Wolf’s command, the Bad Guys also broke off and moved into position.

  Piranha broke away from the others and nonchalantly dove into a nearby fountain to access the building’s plumbing system.

  Tarantula hopped off Shark’s head and crawled stealthily across the floor, in between partygoers’ legs and shoes.

  Shark sidled up the main staircase, heading for the Ceremony Room and his next move.

  Meanwhile, Wolf headed for the balcony level, snagging guests’ wallets and jewelry along the way. Hey, if it’s that easy to take, he reasoned, the owners deserve to lose their stuff to a hardworking thief.

  Downstairs, Snake slithered up a modern art sculpture to reach one of the museum’s upper ledges, then slid directly into an air duct.

  “Mics on,” Tarantula said quietly as soon as she was in position. “Everyone on comms, do you copy?” She hopped onto the back of a security guard, riding undetected as he unlocked the secret surveillance room. Webs was in!

  Wolf, Piranha, Snake, and Shark all murmured, “Copy,” into their communication devices.

  While the rest of the group established their positions, Snake slithered through the air vents. When he’d reached his destination, he paused. In the next moment, he molted out of his skin and costume, leaving both his withered snakeskin and dapper disguise behind. He emerged from the air vent in fresh stealth gear.

  Back in the Ceremony Room, Shark was lapping up the life of luxury in his job disguised as a partygoer.

  “A drink for a pretty lady?” a waiter asked, leaning in close.

  “No thank you,” Shark said. “My life is too complicated right now.”

  Downstairs, Piranha emerged from the water pipes straight into a toilet bowl. Just as he came up from down below, he saw a caterer entering the stall. Unfortunate for the caterer, but fortunate for Piranha. Attack! Moments later, wearing the caterer’s uniform, Piranha reemerged from the bathroom in a fresh new disguise.

  “Boys,” Webs whispered into the comm link. “It’s dolphin season.” Having dispatched with the security guard—by hanging him upside down from the ceiling of the security room with duct tape—Tarantula had successfully hacked into the museum’s surveillance system. She could monitor everyone’s progress and clearly see everything that was going on in the backstage area. The Golden Dolphin was right where it was supposed to be, sitting backstage waiting for their big moment.

  “Copy that,” Piranha replied, stepping out of the bathroom in his new caterer’s uniform. “I’m on the move.”

  Back out in the party, Wolf continued to make his rounds. He sauntered past the police chief just as the chief barked, “Unit Two, is the backstage area still secure?”

  The response came immediately through the walkie-talkie, “Unit Two, all clear.”

  “Keep your eyes open, boys,” the police chief reminded them. “They could be anywhere, just waiting to humiliate us.”

  Just then, Wolf took the opportunity to bump into the chief, who looked up in surprise. “Oh, pardon me, Officer!” Wolf said, placing one hand on her arm.

  “Not a problem, sir,” the chief said. “I thrive on instinct. This is where all the training pays off …”

  Without missing a beat, Wolf strode confidently down the hall—with the chief’s security key tucked securely in his palm. Slipping it out of her pocket had been way too easy.

  Keeping her eye on the surveillance videos, Tarantula told the others, “Wolf is in position! Piranha, you penguin-suited and booted?”

  Piranha murmured, “Affirmative. I’m a clean, mean, dolphin-stealing machine!” He joined a line of caterers, pushing a cart out toward the event hall space. “What’s going on, guys?” he asked some of the other waiters. The key to fitting in, he knew, was to act like you belong. But as soon as no one was looking, Piranha veered off in a different direction and slipped into a janitor’s closet.

  Security card in hand, Wolf made his way toward a staircase, stealing more wallets and jewelry, making it look as easy as taking candy from a baby. Suddenly, he came upon his easiest mark of the night: a frail and very rich-looking old lady. Dollar bills were spilling out of her purse, and Wolf just couldn’t resist. He was on a mission, but a theft like this was impossible to pass up. But just as he grabbed on to the woman’s purse strap, the old lady tripped and began to fall down the stairs. The purse strap, held on one side by Wolf, was the only thing keeping her from falling all the way down the stairs.

  Wolf glanced at the old lady, then at the purse, then back again. With a quick heave-ho, he pulled the old lady back up to safety. He sighed, feeling like a sucker for letting his conscience take over. “Here,” he grumbled. “Let me help you. Are you okay, ma’am?”

  “Oh my gracious, yes!” she said in a chirpy voice. “I may be dizzy, but I’m alive, thanks to you.” She wrapped Wolf in a warm, huge hug.

  “Wha—what are you … ?” he stammered.

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” the old lady said, patting him lovingly. “You’re such a good boy.”

  As she walked off, Wolf’s eyes went wide. His tail had begun to wag uncontrollably. It was a feeling Wolf had never felt before … what was that? He quickly tucked his tail back into the seat of his pants, making sure no one had seen it slip out of his disguise. A few minutes later, he strolled into the janitor’s closet Piranha had set up as a sort of makeshift command station.

  “You all good, brother?” Piranha asked, noticing right away that Wolf looked a little off.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m all … all good,” Wolf told him, trying to shake off his strange encounter with the old lady. Into the radio, he said, “Webs, what do you say about moving on to Step Four?”

  Back in the central command post, Webs nodded. “Copy that. Shark, you’re up. Do your thing.”

  Excitedly, Shark blurted out through the radio, “Do I get to improvise?!”

  While he climbed into Piranha’s catering cart, Wolf muttered back, “Yeah, fine, improvise. But please be subtle.”

  On the main event floor, Shark was ready to do his thing. His job: distract! So, he hastily spilled his drink, then lifted a table high above his head and hurled it across the room, before beginning to scream like a banshee. “I’m having a BABY! Is there a doctor, or perhaps several SECURITY GUARDS who could LEAVE THEIR POSTS and help me?!”

  All nearby security guards quickly abandoned their posts to help out the screaming lady. As soon as they were out of position, Piranha wheeled the catering cart to the door of the guard room. Wolf’s hand poked out of the underside of the cart to swipe them in with the stolen key card.

  But getting through that first door was the easy part. Now they had to get past two elite special-ops guards keeping watch over the trophy room. Wolf and Piranha surveyed the scene from the far end of the hallway. That’s when they noticed a food cart rolling toward the guards. The covered tray on the top of the cart was labeled “Fish Surprise.”

  “Fish Surprise?” One of the Special Ops guards asked, leaning toward the tray. Curious, he lifted the cover.

  “Surprise!” Piranha shouted, leaping into the guards’ faces.

 

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