Life As a Constable

Chapter 23

At two o'clock in the morning, Sly still couldn't fall asleep, so he carefully got out of bed. He tugged on his pants and shirt, then grabbed his coat.
He tiptoed to the kitchen window, then slid out, without making a noise.
He began to walk around the block, hidden in the shadows.
He let his mind focus on little details around him. The breath escaping his mouth, the small snowflakes falling from the sky, and the city noises.
He was so engulfed, that he almost didn't hear a crash from across the street.
He peered around the block, then saw that broken glass lay under a drug store window.
He walked close to the shattered window, then realized that it was being robbed by two teenagers.
Sly was against drugs, he's heard too many stories about kids taking them and killing themselves or someone, so he decided to do something about it.
He went up behind them, while they were busy stuffing their pockets, and grabbed their necks.
Both of them looked about fourteen or fifteen, and they were both tigers.
"Aye man, what's the deal?"
One of them said, when he looked up.
"What are you two doing?"
Sly asked, even though he knew perfectly well.
The tigers looked at each other and laughed.
"What are you, retarded? What does it look like we're doing?"
The other one said harshly.
"You'd better let us go before I kick your ass."
Sly laughed. He didn't just say that.
"You'd better keep quiet, or I'll show you some real ass-kicking."
One of the tigers scoffed.
"I'd like to see you try, old man."
'Old?'
Sly thought.
'I'm only thirty.'
Sly cleared his throat and said,
"Would you like to see a demonstration?"
The tiger smirked.
"Bring it on."
The tiger quickly escaped Sly's grasp, and tried to punch him. He dodged, then threw his own punch at the boy, which hit his nose with a crack. Blood trickled down his mouth, but he still tried to attack Sly.
After many failed punches, he kicked the tiger into the wall, which he fell with a thud.
Sly looked at the teenager and said,
"Now, are you going to do this again?"
He quickly shook his head, which made Sly smirk.
He turned around to the other one and said,
"How about you?"
Which got the same answer.
"Get out of here then, and I won't call the police."
They nodded, then quickly left the drug store.

As Sly left the store himself, he began to chuckle. Kids at that age think they can do anything.
Sly thought about when he was around that age. He was still in the orphanage, although a few people wanted to adopt him, he refused, because he didn't want to leave Bentley and Murray. He remembered their first heist when they were eight years old; stealing a jar of cookies.
Sly missed being a thief, he missed the excitement and the feeling of adrenaline. Being a Constable was a close second, but still didn't compare to being the world's greatest thief.
He sighed, then sat down on a city bench.

Sly needed time to think. He thought about the tragic events with Preston Alexander, the death of Penelope, Murray's legs, and now the disappearance of Bentley.
Sly wanted something to relieve his stress, something to take his mind off things for a while.
After thinking for a moment, he found out what he could do.
One part of his mind said go for it, but the other part said no.
He had a battle in his head for an hour, before he finally got up and started to walk to a liquor store.
He saw that the shop was closed, so he picked the lock with his retractable cane, and went inside.
He quickly grabbed a bottle of liquor, then left, locking the door back behind him.
He returned to the bench, still holding the bottle. He looked at it for a while, wondering if he should really do this. Then, thinking about the things going on, made the stress flow back into his mind.
He popped the lid off, then took a sip. The exotic taste filled his mouth, then burned his throat.
He was new to liquor, although he did have champaign, and a taste of beer.
The feeling excited him, as he took another swig.
After his fifth sip, he began to feel lightheaded.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as he began to feel dizzy. He finished off the bottle, then threw it across the street. His lips slowly fell into a smile, when he started to laugh.
He had never felt so free, as he began to dance. He pictured him and Carmelita many years ago, doing the tango. As he remembered that night, he recalled how astonishing she looked in her black dress, dancing in the moonlight.
He continued to dance, until the dizziness overwhelmed him. He crawled under the city bench, and after a moment, he passed out.