Ryan the Babysitter & The Babylon Bullies
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Ryan sat in the booth with the twins, balancing nine empty paper cups on the table. His eyes narrowed with concentration as he began to shuffle and glide the cups down and across the table in a myriad of ways before they were in a nice small stack of three. They even looked like they were just three cups. It was like some sort of amateur magic trick.
“Whoa!” Jackson barked, bouncing in his seat.
“Again, again!” Londa clapped, her tail swishing happily.
Ryan grinned sheepishly, finally stacking all of them together with a bit of a wobble. “Ta-da!” he said, lowering them like a magician at the end of a trick.
The twins applauded wildly. Jackson even stood on the booth cushion to bang the table. Ryan flushed pink, clearly pleased by their reaction. But before he could take a bow, a voice from the counter called, “Order number 42!”
“That’s us,” Ryan said, standing. “Stay here, okay? No bouncing on the tables while I’m gone.” He gave Jackson a pointed look.
Jackson snickered. “Uh, I don’t bounce, I leap.”
Londa rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna get ketchup on your fur again if you go vaulting over tables.”
Ryan shook his head with a chuckle and headed off. As soon as he was gone, the twins leaned across the table toward each other.
“Which Happy Meal toys are out now?” Jackson asked.
“I think they’re doing like a Peter Pan set or something?” Londa mused.
“Oh what? My favorite Happy Meal toys are like the ones that deal with intergalactic stuffs. My favorite was the space rocket one,” Jackson said. “You could launch it and it went all the way across the living room.”
“No way,” Londa argued. “The princess wand one was better. It lit up pink and sparkly. Yours broke after two days.”
“Because I was testing it too hard!” Jackson said defensively. “Nobody takes better care of their toys then me except for that one time-”
Londa opened her mouth.
“Don’t mention any other time I broke stuff. I’m right.” Jackson declared. Londa pinched his cheek and he whined.
But their argument fizzled the instant a sharp CRASH rang out from across the restaurant. Both cubs whipped their heads toward the counter.
There, towering above the crowd, was Storm the Albatross with one meaty arm clamped around Ryan’s shoulders. Ryan’s bags of food had gone spilling to the floor, though, thankfully all of it was still inside for the most part. Jet the Hawk leaned in close with a nasty smirk, waving a mustard packet, while Wave stood on the other side holding ketchup.
“Awww, look at the babysitter,” Jet sneered. “What’s with this tail, huh? Looks way too clean.” He grabbed Ryan’s long, fluffy tail as Ryan squirmed.
“Stop-! H-Hey-!” Ryan yelped.
Splurt. Mustard smeared down the gray fur. Splat. Ketchup followed, sticky and red. Ryan winced, his ears folded low, trying to pull away as the Rogues cackled.
“Careful, Jet,” Wave said mockingly. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the merchandise right? I wonder how a floofy tail like this would go on ebay.”
“Want me to yank it off?” Storm asked.
“What? No. That’s demented,” Wave shot him a bit of a brow-raised glare.
The restaurant murmured with laughter and gasps. Jackson and Londa slid off their booth seats, tails bristling.
“Hey!” Jackson shouted, stomping forward.
“Let him go right now!” Londa added, standing tall beside her brother with a little stomp of her own.
The three Rogues froze for a moment. Then they burst out laughing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jet said, clutching his stomach. “The babysitter’s rescue squad is a couple of toddlers? I mean, yeah, I guess that makes sense though huh.”
“Preschool bound superheroes,” Wave snorted. “Aww, so cute.”
Storm blinked dumbly. “Uh… they look mad, Jet.”
Jackson puffed out his chest. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“Yeah,” Londa echoed, folding her little arms. “We mean business.”
Their voices were small, but their glares were sharp. For a second, Ryan stared wide-eyed at them, touched despite himself.
Jet smirked and finally stepped back. “Tch. Whatever. He’s not worth the mustard inside this little empty packet.” He said, flicking it to Ryan’s face, making him wince. He said nothing.
“Yeah,” Wave added, flicking the empty ketchup packet away. “He looked extra timid and silly today so I thought he had more on him but all he’s got on him is a balloon butt and some baby wipes in his pocket. Let’s get out of this dump.”
Storm let Ryan go, and the wolf stumbled forward, fur sticky and tail dragging like a mop. The trio strutted toward the door, still laughing.
Ryan sighed, pulling his tail around to look at the mess. “Oh, man. I’ll need an hour to wash this out.” He straightened, forcing a smile at the twins. “We’ll take our food to go, okay?”
He walked to the counter, ears still flat, and asked the cashier for new bags. Behind him, Jackson’s face was pressed up against the window, squinting at the parking lot.
Jet seemed to be arguing with Wave about something while Storm shuffled into the passenger seat and had to be booted out and told to go to the back by Wave.
“Gotcha,” he muttered. He repeated the numbers of the Babylon Rogues’ license plate under his breath until it stuck in his memory.
Londa joined him, eyes narrowing. “They’re not getting away with that.”
Jackson smirked. “Nope. Not a chance.”
---
The hum of Ryan’s red Ford F-150 filled the quiet as they pulled out of the McDonald’s parking lot. The kids sat in their booster seats in the back, Happy Meal boxes in their laps, but their eyes kept flicking up to Ryan in the rearview mirror.
“Ryan?” Londa piped up. “Who were those guys?”
Ryan kept his eyes on the road. “Just… bullies,” he said, his voice casual but edged with a little tension. “They went to my school. They’ve been giving me trouble for a long time.”
Jackson leaned forward against his seatbelt. “Bullies? Like, bad ones?”
“Yeah,” Ryan admitted with a weak chuckle. “Messing up my tail back there? Honestly… that’s probably the tamest thing they’ve ever done to me.”
The twins glanced at each other. Jackson tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
Ryan hesitated. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t really like talking about it but… let’s just say they don’t really stop once they’ve decided to pick on someone.”
---
FLASHBACK
---
The fluorescent lights of the school hallway flickered as Ryan stood pinned, Storm’s massive arm crushing him back against the lockers. His ears were flat, his tail twitching nervously.
“Please, please let me go!” Ryan pleaded, his voice cracking. “I really gotta-!”
Jet leaned in, his sharp beak inches from Ryan’s nose, sneering. “Aw, look at him squirm. Poor little puppy can’t hold it?”
Wave crossed her arms, grinning slyly. “I say we give him a hand.” She plucked a feather from her sleeve and wiggled it under Ryan’s chin.
Ryan’s legs twisted together desperately, his knees knocking. “No, don’t–stop!” His voice trembled as he tried to hold on.
Storm looked confused. “He said he has to go, guys…”
“Yeah, we heard him, genius,” Jet snorted. He jabbed Ryan’s ribs with the tip of the feather.
“OH! I get it now!” Storm grinned.
Ryan gasped, trembling. Then Wave joined in, sliding her feather under his arm. The twin tickling attacks broke his resolve.
“P-please–hahaha–nooo–hahahaha–I can’t–!”
The laughter twisted into a mortified squeak as a dark patch spread down Ryan’s jeans. He froze, horror etched on his face while Jet and Wave burst out laughing.
“Hah! He really did it!” Jet crowed.
Wave smirked. “Guess the big bad wolf’s more like a puppy after all.”
Ryan’s face burned crimson as he sagged against Storm’s grip, humiliated, his soaked pants clinging to him while the cackles echoed down the hallway.
---
END FLASHBACK
---
Ryan blinked and shook his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter as if to shove the memory aside. His ears twitched downward in shame.
“That’s… the kind of stuff they did,” he muttered. “And, um… it was worse when other kids were around to see it.”
The twins went silent. Jackson’s usual grin slipped, and Londa’s ears drooped in sympathy.
“That’s… mean,” Londa said softly.
“Yeah,” Jackson muttered, his little claws flexing against the Happy Meal box. “Really mean. And you’re not even a big baby who deserves it like Tails.”
Ryan tried to brush it off, forcing a smile as he pulled into the driveway. “Thanks. Anyway, don’t worry about me. That was a while ago.”
The truck rumbled to a stop. They hopped out, carrying their meals inside. Ryan set the bags on the counter, then excused himself, holding his messy tail out gingerly.
“Gonna go clean up in the bathroom,” he said. “You can go ahead and start eating. No need to worry about waiting for me to get back, okay?”
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him.
Left alone in the living room, Jackson and Londa set their Happy Meal boxes down. They turned toward each other at the exact same moment.
Jackson smirked, eyes glittering.
Londa’s grin matched his.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jackson asked.
“Oh, I definitely am,” Londa replied.
They slapped their little paws together in a conspiratorial high-five, their tails wagging mischievously.
A plan had been concocted.
---
Night had settled in, and Ryan was long asleep in his room after a tiring day. But Jackson and Londa? They had not forgotten.
Dressed head to toe in makeshift “Splinter Cell” outfits; black pajamas, ski masks too big for their heads, and little plastic goggles they’d found in the toy chest, they crouched in the bushes outside a small house at the edge of town.
“That’s the car,” Jackson whispered, pointing to the Rogue’s beat-up ride parked crooked in the driveway. “This is definitely their hideout.”
Londa adjusted her goggles, her little tail flicking with excitement. “Operation: The Babysitter’s Revenge is a go.”
The twins grinned at each other, their teeth flashing eerily white in the moonlight.
The living room was lit by the glow of a big TV. Jet, Wave, and Storm were sprawled out with controllers in hand, hollering over a chaotic racing game.
“Eat my dust!” Jet cackled, leaning forward on the couch.
“Ha! You missed the shortcut again,” Wave teased, smirking.
Storm growled, mashing buttons. “Why can’t I just smash the cars?! This game’s dumb!”
The laughter was cut short as the lights suddenly went click plunging the room into complete darkness.
“Eh?!” Jet squawked, fumbling for the controller. “What happened to the lights?”
“Relax,” Wave said, tapping her headset like she was scanning the issue herself. “Fuse probably tripped.”
Storm blinked in the darkness. “Fuse? Ha, you suck Wave. Your stuff never breaks but it broke now so that means you’ve gotten worse at mechanical stuff.”
“Yes, THAT’S what that means. Very good,” She rolled her eyes.
Jet groaned and stood. “Ugh, never mind. I’ll fix it.”
He muttered all the way down the basement steps, feathers ruffling with irritation. At the bottom, he found the fuse box and yanked the switch for the living room.
The lights flickered back upstairs.
“See? Easy,” Jet smirked, brushing his hands off as he turned to head back up. “Nothing a genius like me can’t handle–”
But the words caught in his throat as his feet skidded across something slick on the floor.
“—Wait, what the–whoa–!”
His feet shot out from under him like he’d stepped on ice. Instead, it was a huge pool of slick grease! Where did it come from?!
Jet’s wings flailed as he pinwheeled across the basement floor, sliding helplessly forward.
WHAM!
He crashed back-first into a tall storage shelf. The whole thing shuddered, then toppled with a tremendous CRASH!
Cans of paint spilled like waterfalls, splattering Jet in every shade; blue, red, yellow, and green, turning him into a dripping rainbow mess. His jacket and feathers were soaked, his head feathers plastered down comically over his eyes.
He sat up with a squelch, spitting out a streak of paint that had splashed into his beak. “Pffft–ACK–are you kidding me?!” He groaned, eyes a bit crossed.
Outside, in the shadows of the bushes, two little wolf cubs in Splinter Cell pajamas muffled their giggles with their paws.
Upstairs, Wave blinked as she heard the crash echo up through the floor. “What was that?”
Storm jumped off the couch when he heard the deafening CRASH echo from the basement. His wide eyes flickered before he darted to the doorway.
“BOSS?! You okay down there, boss?!” he bellowed as he pulled it open, the wooden frame creaking, and leaned halfway down the stairwell.
All Storm saw was a dim glow from the fuse box and the wreck of shelves, paint splattered everywhere. Jet was still groaning and trying to peel a blue paint can off his head.
“Uhh… you need any help?” Storm called again, scratching the back of his head.
But Storm had no idea danger was above him, not below.
Jackson crouched like a tiny black-ops commando, balanced on a beam that crossed the kitchen ceiling above the basement doorway. In his paws, a child-sized fishing pole gleamed mischievously in the dark. His little mask and goggles slipped down his nose as he lined up the hook.
“Locked on target,” Jackson whispered.
With a fwip, the line darted down and snagged perfectly onto the waistband of Storm’s baggy pants.
“Eh? Huh?” Storm blinked, feeling a tug. He reached behind him, confused. “What’s-?”
YANK!
The fishing pole arched, and Storm let out a startled squawk as his pants snapped skyward.
“WEDGIEEEE!” Jackson whisper-shouted triumphantly, reeling with all his might.
Storm’s bulky body actually lifted off the floor, suspended by the waistband of his pants as Jackson reeled up and over, swinging him back and forth like a prize catch.
“WHOAAAA!” Storm flailed, his huge arms windmilling. His voice cracked with every swing. “PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME-AAAGH!”
One wild swing sent the albatross careening backwards and straight into the refrigerator door with a thunderous CLANG! The fridge rattled like it might tip over as Storm’s body slid down it in a dazed heap, his pants stretched comically high behind him.
Jackson, still up on the beam, snickered into his sleeve, trying not to laugh too loudly. “Man, that was perfect.”
Down in the basement, Jet spat out more paint and glared upward. “What the heck is going on up there?!”
Wave stood up and arched her gaze over from the couch, “Storm, are you so dense you can’t open a basement door without crashing into something?”
Jet groaned, dripping paint in streaks as he staggered to his feet. He shook his arms out, splattering the basement wall like a mural gone wrong. “Ugh, this is ridiculous,” he grumbled, stomping toward the laundry room sink. “Gotta hurry and rinse this junk off or Wave won’t shut up about it. Ohhh~! My precious tinkering room~! It’s a basement, girl!” He argued with no one.
He twisted the faucet on, water sputtering out into a weak trickle. Jet bent low, scrubbing at the paint on his feathers. What he didn’t know was that a tiny wolf cub in Splinter Cell pajamas was crouched under the sink with her little paws gripping the pipes. Londa grinned devilishly, reaching through the cubby below the sink and grabbing at Jet’s shoes.
“Okay, big boy, time to show you what happens when you suck at tying shoes~!” She sang a little.
While Jet leaned forward, she looped the laces around his sneakers and knotted them together fast, her little ears flicking with glee. Then, spotting a shiny valve on the pipe, she gave it a twist.
The faucet above exploded to life.
“GYAHHHH!” Jet shrieked as a torrent of high-pressure water blasted him in the beak, knocking him back. He flailed wildly, arms slapping at the spray, but the gush only pounded harder, drenching him head to toe.
From under the sink, Londa crawled out, standing proudly with her paws on her hips. “What’s the matter, feather-brain? Thought you were fast! Guess you’re not fast enough to dodge a water gun huh?!”
Jet froze, blinking water from his eyes. His soaked feathers clung to him in a ridiculous, scrawny mess, and his sneakers squelched. Then his glare sharpened as he realized who it was.
“You-! You’re the girl brat… from McDonalds!”
“Yup,” Londa chirped and gave a tiny salute. She then darted for the stairs.
Jet tried to bolt after her, but the moment he moved–THUD!
His feet were tangled in the shoelaces. He fell face-first into a puddle of paint-water with a wet SPLAT!
“Arrrrghhh!” he muffled into the floor.
Upstairs, Jackson was crouched behind the couch waiting. Londa popped out of the basement door, zipped over, and smacked her brother’s paw in a victorious high-five.
“Direct hit,” she grinned.
“I heard it! You nailed him!” Jackson said, snickering. “This is too easy.”
But their celebration was cut short by the click of someone’s feet.
Wave appeared around the bend, her feathers ruffled and eyes narrowed. She jabbed a finger at them. “Aha. You two. I knew something was off when Storm went flying and Jet disappeared. You’re coming with me.”
The twins only smirked and dashed down the hallway.
Wave sprinted after them, muttering under her breath, “Can’t believe this…”
But mid-stride, she felt something stick.
Her left foot tugged, then her right. She glanced down with her eyes widening. The floor was coated in a shiny puddle of glue.
Her sneakers were stuck.
“What the-?!” She tugged, but her feet barely budged, the glue stringing like melted taffy. “OhOHOHOoooOoo, you little pests!”
At the far end of the hall, Jackson and Londa leaned around the corner, laughing so hard they nearly toppled over.
“Nice one, sis!” Jackson barked between giggles.
“She walked right into it!” Londa snorted. “This is like babysitting in reverse!”
Wave growled, yanking harder, feathers puffing. “You cubs are gonna regret this…!”
Downstairs, Jet finally wrestled his soaked sneakers off, tossing them aside with a squelch. His feathers were still dripping, his shirt clinging to him as he stormed up the steps.
“I swear, when I get my hands on those brats-!”
But as soon as he reached the kitchen, he stopped short.
Storm was slumped against the refrigerator door, eyes swirling, his wedgied pants still stretched comically high. He groaned, his head lolling.
“Storm! You idiot! Snap out of it!” Jet shook him by the shoulders.
Storm blinked, his daze slowly fading. “Huh? Wha-boss? I got into a fight with the fridge? Did it beat me?”
“No! The cubs are the ones who’re winning!” Jet snarled. He helped tug Storm free from the fridge, paint still dripping off him. “C’mon! We’re gonna find them and end this.” He snarled, pointing to the basement.
Storm clenched his fists. “Yeah! Nobody embarrasses us like this except us!”
Jet let out a warbly sigh, choosing to let that one be as they marched back down the stairs.
---
Meanwhile, Wave had managed to pull her feet free from the glue puddle by yanking off her shoes and socks. She tossed them aside with a growl, muttering curses under her breath.
“Alright, enough playing around…” she hissed. She stalked down another hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the floorboards.
Her eyes darted around, searching the shadows. “Alright, little wolves… where are you? Come out and-”
STICK!
“EEP!” Wave squealed, leaping sky-high as a sharp poke jabbed her backside. She clutched at her butt in shock, her face flushing bright red.
Jackson, having popped up behind her, twirled the little pin he used to jab her in his paw, giggling. “Bullseye!”
The sudden leap was enough! Wave’s pants and panties shot right off her butt as she flailed in the air. Her eyes went wide in horror!
“Wait-NOOOO!”
She came crashing back down, but before she could hit the floor-PLOP!
Jackson and Londa caught her perfectly in the middle of an open diaper they’d been holding out like a trap. With one swift yank, the tabs sealed, and Wave found herself strapped into a big, poofy diaper.
She froze, blinking down at herself. “You… you didn’t-!”
Jackson put his paws on his hips. “We did.”
Londa grinned. “Now you have an outfit to match your behavior.”
Wave scrambled to her feet, yanking at the sides. “No way! I’m not… get this thing off!” But when she tugged, it didn’t budge. Her face dropped as she realized what they’d done.
“Glue,” Londa said smugly.
“Extra strong too,” Jackson added with a laugh. “You oughta know. You bought it.”
“Whaguah?! NOOO!” Wave screeched, tugging harder. The diaper crinkled loudly with every move. The diaper itself might as well have been mocking her.
The twins saluted her, then giggled as they scrambled into a nearby AC vent, disappearing into the ducts with a clang clang clang.
Wave stood frozen in shock, diapered, blushing furiously. Then she stomped her bare foot with a smack.
“I’M GONNA GET YOU BRATS!”
She bolted for the lower floor, forced to waddle slightly by the crinkling bulk around her waist.
---
The floorboards upstairs gave a long, ominous creak and the loud clanging upstairs was echoing down to the basement and somehow getting louder before it stopped.
Jet and Storm froze on said staircase, glancing at each other.
“Was that Wave?” Storm asked.
“Sounds like it,” Jet muttered, narrowing his eyes. “C’mon.”
They turned around and crept up a few steps and then suddenly the wood groaned and snapped! The staircase gave way beneath them.
“WHOOOAAA!” both birds shouted as they dropped like stones, crashing back down into the basement. They hit the floor in a heap, moaning and dazed.
That was unnatural. Someone had messed with the basement stairs. One guess as to who.
Jet staggered to his feet, paint still dripping from his feathers and now dusted with broken plaster. “Okay… okay, they want to play games? We’ll play games. Storm, you go that way. I’ll go this way. We’ll flush ‘em out.”
Storm saluted clumsily. “Got it, boss!” He tromped off into the laundry side while Jet pushed through the door to the sports bar.
The basement’s sports bar was dimly lit, with pool tables, stools, and shelves stacked with empty bottles. And right on top of the counter, perched like she owned the place, was Londa.
Her little black-ops pajamas made her look like a miniature spy as she sat swinging her legs. She gave Jet a serious glare.
“You shouldn’t have made Ryan pee his pants,” she said flatly.
Jet’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just—?”
Before he could finish, Londa leapt from the bar. She landed squarely on a plank of wood balanced across a bucket.
WHAM!
The other end shot up like a catapult… straight into Jet’s crotch.
“GAAAAHHHHH!” Jet’s eyes bulged as his knees buckled. He staggered in place, clutching himself, face twisting with agony.
And then in a horrifyingly, humiliating way, a dark wet patch spread down the front of his pants.
Londa hopped off the plank and smirked. “Now you know how Ryan felt.”
Jet’s face turned crimson, tears ebbed at the corners of his eyes. “Why you little brat…!” he growled, charging forward.
But Londa was already at the wall, tugging a rope.
SWOOSH!
The snare tightened around Jet’s ankles, yanking his legs together. He yelped as the rope whipped him off balance, spinning him in a dizzying circle.
“WHOA WHOA WHOA—!”
The momentum flung him across the room, right through a side window. With a spectacular crash of glass, Jet went flying out into the front lawn, landing flat on his tummy, spread-eagle in the grass.
From inside, Londa leaned out of the broken window, waving down at him. “Sweet dreams, potty-bird!”
Jet groaned, sprawled in the lawn with his soaked pants clinging to him, too dazed to get up.
Londa slipped out of the sports bar, dusting her little black-ops pajamas like nothing had happened. She padded down the basement hall that led to the stairs, but froze when a huge shadow loomed over her.
Storm.
The hulking albatross filled the narrow hall, fists clenched. His eyes were hard and mean, and as he stepped forward, Londa’s back pressed against the wall.
“There you are,” he growled. “I don’t care if you’re a kid!” he jabbed a thick finger at her “I’ll beat you up for messing with my friends.”
Londa’s ears twitched, but she didn’t flinch. What Storm didn’t know was that Jackson had been busy the entire time, crouched above in the rafters. A fishing line had already been clipped snugly to the back of Storm’s underwear, traveling along the floor, and wound around the ceiling fan in the living room upstairs.
Storm cracked his knuckles and leaned down. “Any last words before I teach you a lesson?”
Londa smirked. “One word… WEDGIEEEEE!”
Storm blinked. “Huh-?”
CLICK!
Upstairs, Jackson flipped the switch. The ceiling fan whirred to life.
“Wait, what’s-AAAHHHHH! WEDGIEEEEE!”
Storm shot backwards like he’d been hooked by a giant fishing rod. The line yanked his boxers’ waistband sky-high, hoisting him clean off his feet.
He barreled through the basement, smacked into the doorframe, shot up the stairs in a blur, crashed through the kitchen, loudly banged into the living room, where the ceiling fan whipped him around like a rag doll.
“WHOOOAAA! PUT ME DOWN! PUT MEAAHHH!” he cried as he spun, his legs flailing while the wedgie stretched his underwear comically.
After three dizzying spins, the fan gave a final violent twirl and flung Storm so hard he went soaring straight out the window in a shower of glass.
He landed flat in the front yard with a thud, sprawled right on top of Jet, who was still groaning in his wet pants! Being crushed by this dude’s big hulking body just made more pee spurt out of him.
---
Back inside, Londa skipped up the stairs and high-fived her brother.
“Bullseye,” Jackson chuckled.
“He’s big,” Londa grinned. “But so easy to wedgie.”
Jackson and Londa crept into the living room, giggling under their breath from Storm’s airborne wedgie adventure. But their laughter cut short when a shadow loomed in the hallway.
It was Wave.
But not the smug, collected Wave they remembered. No, she stood there in nothing but her shirt and a diaper, the tapes crinkling with every step. Her feathers bristled, her eyes blazing.
“You little rats are dead meat!” she shrieked, charging at them.
The twins yelped and bolted, their tiny paws pattering across the carpet. Wave thundered after them, the chase spilling through the living room and up a second staircase.
“I'm splitting left!” Jackson barked.
“I got the right!” Londa answered.
As Wave stormed up the stairs, the cubs pulled back a rope and a dangling paint can swung down.
THWACK!
It slammed right into Wave’s abdomen.
“OOOFFF!” she wheezed, stumbling back and clutching her stomach. Her cheeks puffed out, her face twisting as she bent forward.
The twins froze at the top of the stairs, wide-eyed, waiting for the obvious.
“She’s gonna wet–!” Jackson whispered.
“Yup,” Londa nodded.
But instead of the expected, Wave’s eyes went wide, her feathers fluffed, and she let out a horrified squeal.
BLORRRRT!
Her diaper sagged heavily in an instant.
“EEEWWW!” she groaned, doubling over. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
The twins gagged and laughed all at once, scampering away as Wave, red-faced and stinking, stomped after them in fury.
They dashed into a dark upstairs room. Wave barged in moments later, huffing and puffing, diaper sagging. She growled into the shadows.
“Where are you brats?!”
From the darkness, something small whizzed through the air. Thunk. A stick clattered at her feet.
Her balance wobbled.
“Wha—?!”
FLOP!
She landed butt-first in a chair nearby, squelching down into her messy diaper.
“UUGGHHH, GROSS!” she shrieked, flailing in disgust.
The light flicked on, revealing Jackson and Londa standing side-by-side with smug grins.
“That’s what you get,” Londa said firmly.
“Yeah,” Jackson added. “What you did to Ryan was super mean!”
Wave’s eyes burned with humiliation and rage. She didn’t care about that. There was only one thing on her mind right now. “I’ll—KILL—you!”
She lunged, screaming.
But the twins were ready.
“Now!” Jackson barked.
Together they ducked and yanked a string taut across the doorway.
Wave’s foot caught.
“WHOOOAAAHHHH!”
She pitched forward, hurtling across the room, smashing through the window with the third explosion of glass that day.
Her shriek trailed as she rocketed out, crashing down onto the front yard with a mighty THUD landing right on top of Jet and Storm, who were already sprawled in the grass.
The three Babylon Rogues lay there in a dazed, crumpled heap, groaning in pain and humiliation.
Inside, the twins leaned out the window, high-fiving.
“Mission accomplished,” Jackson said.
“Our babysitter has been avenged,” Londa agreed with a proud grin. “For now.”
The front yard was a mess of groaning fools and piled high with misery. Jet lay flat on his stomach, pants soaked as he groaned. Storm was still crushing him, the boxers wedgie still sticking out. Wave lay slumped on top of them in her sagging diaper, barely conscious and not fully wanting to be right now.
Then came the sirens.
Two police cars pulled up at the curb, red and blue lights flashing across the lawn. Doors swung open, and a pair of officers stepped out, shining flashlights on the sorry trio.
The taller cop frowned. “Uh… what exactly are you three doing out here? At midnight? …covered in paint and glass, and… whatever else that is.”
Jet groaned, covering his face with his hand. “We… we give up.”
Storm whined, still dangling from his wedgie. “Make it stop…”
Wave just muttered under her breath, “This night is over.”
The cops shook their heads, already hauling them up one by one to try and figure out what was going on. It was clear the Rogues weren’t about to argue.
---
Up on the second-floor windowsill, Jackson and Londa peered out in their little Splinter Cell outfits, tails swishing with pride.
“Whoops. We gotta go,” Jackson said.
“Through the back! Tippy-toes~!” Londa giggled, a twinge nervous as they both scooted back.
Yeah, they didn’t need the cops discovering that they had broken in and booby trapped the place. Granted, there was nothing stopping the birds from revealing that aside from the fear of further retaliation.
They weren’t too worried though. They had a knack for leaving a fearful impression.
---
Jackson and Londa padded back into the house, sneaking off their little “Splinter Cell” masks and goggles. They tiptoed across the living room carpet toward their bedrooms, smug with victory.
But waiting for them in the hall was Ryan.
Arms crossed, tail swishing, a handheld police scanner blinking in his paw.
The twins froze.
“I was just listening to this,” Ryan said flatly, holding up the scanner. “Funny thing the police band mentioned a pair of wolf cub twins pulling dangerous pranks on the Babylon Rogues tonight.”
Jackson and Londa gulped in unison. Guess the birdies didn’t keep quiet after all.
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”
The cubs exchanged a quick glance. Then, without hesitation, Jackson puffed his chest. “We did it!”
Londa nodded enthusiastically. “They hurt you, Ryan! They made fun of you, and they made you pee your pants at school, and they smeared stuff in your tail at McDonald’s! We weren’t gonna let them get away with that!”
They both shook a little.
Ryan, however, didn’t look impressed. His ears drooped, and he shook his head. “So you thought it was okay to sneak out in the middle of the night? To set up dangerous pranks just to get revenge?”
The cubs’ smiles faltered. They shuffled their feet, ears folding down in shame.
“…We just wanted to help,” Londa mumbled.
“Yeah,” Jackson added quietly. “We wanted to protect you.”
Ryan looked at them for a long moment. His expression was unreadable. The scanner beeped softly in his hand.
Then, suddenly, he dropped it to the side and swooped the twins up into a hug, squeezing them both tight.
“I love you guys!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.
The twins blinked, startled by this reaction before they then broke into wide grins, hugging him back just as tightly.
“We love you too, Ryan!” they chorused.
Ryan chuckled, nuzzling their heads. “You two drive me crazy, you know that? But… you’re the best kids I’ve ever watched.”
The twins wagged their tails happily, all three of them tangled together in the warm embrace.
He then looked them in the eyes while patting their heads, a noticeable bead of sweat on his forehead and a slightly shaky grin.
“But uh… there’s a chance we may need to do some explaining to the police later seeing as how the report they gave identified you two.”
Londa and Jackson both perked up, sweaty as well, before grinning and shooting each other a look with a bit of a chuckle under their breath.
Okay. This might have been one of their more sloppy operations ...but it was still worth it.
