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“There’shonor in doing this job, Strap.” Mick poured him a cool glass of whiskey.
The younger man reclined languidly on one of the beachside loungers, chin to the sun. The wind off the water basked his skin with a cool breeze. He needed that. Sometimes, the French heat was particularly taxing.
“Stick to what we’re here for, and you’ll be straight. Don’t get too greedy.” Mick walked over, offering him the glass with an outstretched arm. “You should never focus too hard on the material objects. Do you understand me? Family comes first. Always.”
Strap slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, staring up at the older man. Gray streaks of hair had overtaken what was once dark brown and voluminous.
Then, Strap snorted softly as he snagged the tumbler out of Mick’s hand. “You’re old and out of touch, aren’t you?”
Mick’s blue eyes widened for a moment. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Strap shrugged. “I just think you’re talking out of your ass,” he replied bluntly, sipping from his whiskey. “You don’t even have a family to put first. Have you imagined one for yourself? A wife, kids, the full nine yards?” With a cruel laugh, Strap settled back into his seat, placing his hand along the back of his neck.
“You’re getting senile, Mick.”
To that, Mick remained silent.
* * *
In his earpiece,Strap heard Mick’s pleas for him to turn around and abort his impromptu plan, but Strap was in too deep at that point. He couldn’t stop, not when the score of a lifetime awaited him back in the main room.
Unfortunately, the guards had already secured the room, equipping the bright red laser beams that blocked anyone from entering or exiting. Strap huffed out a laugh. Too easy.
“Goddamn it, Strap!” Mick exclaimed through the earpiece. “You’re fucking up the whole mission!”
“I’ll go back for your necklace, don’t worry,” Strap replied coolly, though, in reality, his eyes were set on the jackpot. That little piece of jewelry meant nothing to him. “Why are you so freaked out? You’re getting all the bang for your buck.”
A muffled noise came from his earpiece before quieting completely. He paused for a moment, wondering what had happened to Mick. Didn’t matter. He pushed forward and made his way to the laser beams, already undressing as he went.
With each footstep closer, the buzzing from the lasers intensified. He grimaced. The sound was akin to a pesky mosquito zipping around his ear on a hot day.
“Of course, the Brits would have the most annoying security features known to man,” Strap whispered to himself, sliding his jacket underneath the tight space that separated the bottommost laser beam from the ground. It passed under without issue. Then came his shirt, his pants, and his shoes. He stood naked in the middle of an iconic museum, hairs raised in excitement as he readied himself for the grand finale.
His pupils narrowed. The shifting commenced.
The panther’s teeth elongated, fangs protruding from his mouth. The rest of his physiology subsequently transformed, shifting his atoms and molecules in seconds that left a large midnight-black cat in place of the man who once stood proud at six-foot, three-inches.
A low growl ripped from his chest. Lowering to the ground, panther Strap wiggled his back half and focused on the wide space between the ceiling and the top laser beam. His ears pinned back against his skull.
Then, he pounced.
That, too, was easy. Perhaps, that should have alerted him that something wasn’t right. Things were going too smoothly, and his head got big without Mick to talk some sense into his ear. Strap thought himself to be ten feet tall with the way his ego inflated.
But that lasted all of five seconds.
Something struck the beam. The end of his tail, he figured. The ear-deafening sirens echoed throughout the museum while a blinking red light flashed in the room. His ears shot upright as he heard footsteps closing in on him from all directions.
Son of a bitch. Everything was going so well. This was supposed to be his most triumphant moment. Within seconds, his dreams were obliterated, with the museum door being kicked in by police.
“Freeze!”
It seemed like all of Scotland Yard descended upon that museum exhibit room. Police officers burst through the multiple doors, and before Strap had the chance to shift back into his human form, they were already shooting him with tranquilizers and a net that encased his body.
Crying out, Strap immediately slumped against the floor with a thud. At the same time, his body shifted involuntarily. Something was in that damn injection.
They yelled words at him, hurled insults, and as Strap weaved in and out of consciousness, there was only one thing on his mind.
Mick is going to kick my ass.
