Hello! This is my last original chapter of Season 1. I'm taking a break from the conventional formula to give you the story of how Sean joined W.O.O.H.P in the first place.
Read and review!
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sean Warren: The Early Years
Smithsonian Institute-1:49 AM
On loan from the museum of Moscow, a single red decorative egg encrusted with sapphires sat under a glass display case. Commissioned by Tsar Nicholas II for his daughter Olga, the egg was highly protected not only because of its historic value, but also its price of almost $10,000,000.
That being said, it was still vulnerable.
A lone figure dressed completely in a black jumpsuit complete with ski mask, peered behind the archway leading into the room the egg was being stored. Looking up, he took out a small black fountain pen and aimed it at the two cameras on either side.
Once a keeping a constant vigil over the room's valuable contents, the cameras went limp once a green light emitted from the tip, sending an electronic signal that shut the cameras down. By the time anyone realized what happened, the thief would be long gone with the egg.
Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a large spray can and pointed it at the floor.
A clear aerosol flew from the can, covering the floor and revealing the grid of lasers all over it. One wrong step and he would trigger the alarm.
Ripping a panel off the side of the wall, he looked inside the compartment where about a thousand wires were strung all throughout. Carefully gripping a yellow one, he took out a pair of wire cutters from his pocket and snapped the wire in half.
The laser grid disappeared allowing him to move across the floor without tripping the security system.
Finally reaching the display case, he pressed his ring against the surface of the glass. The amethyst opened up, letting a small acidic substance leak onto the case. Within mere seconds, the glass was gone and the egg was unprotected.
The thief took off his mask to reveal a young face with brown hair and gray eyes. And his visage bore a greedy, mischievous grin.
"Just one more score," he said with glee. "And you'll be spending the rest of your days tanning on a beach in Aruba."
He picked up the egg.
"You know," a voice called out from somewhere in the dark room. "If you wanted eggs, there's an all night diner just across the street."
The thief turned around, startled. Leaning against the wall to his left was a teenage boy in a dark blue jumpsuit.
"Sorry, pal," Sean said leaping into action. "The only eggs you're gonna see from now on are served in the W.O.O.H.P prison cafeteria!"
That was when three other shapes jumped down from the rafters beside him, one green, one yellow, and the last one red.
"There's nowhere to go!" Sam warned.
"So, give up!" Alex added.
"And FYI," Clover said. "That color doesn't go with your skin tone."
The thief tried a make a run out the doorway, but Alex leapt in front of him, trying to deliver a leg sweep but he jumped over her instead.
Chasing him out into the hall, Clover took out a single tube of lipstick and pointed it at him, or rather the floor in front of him.
A single white laser blast hit the floor, leaving a gaping hole... which the thief only jumped over anyway.
Leaping over the hole, Sean and Sam continued their pursuit into the next wing of the museum, which appeared to be dedicated to prehistoric life.
Sam flipped into the air and pointed a mascara brush at the thief, firing a net which he kicked back and redirected at Sean.
"Look out!" Sam said, shoving him out of the way.
The net ensnared her instead, leaving her dangling from the jaw of a T. rex skeleton.
"Are you alright?" Sean asked.
"Don't worry about me!" Sam insisted. "Just get our egg thief!"
Nodding, Sean ran to catch up. When he finally caught up to the guy, he kicked his left foot forward.
The heel of the boot opened, letting out a roped bola which zoomed across the room. The bola wrapped itself around the thief's legs, making both him and the egg drop to the floor.
The egg rolled along the marble floor silently until a blue gloved hand picked it up.
"Way to go, Sean!" Alex said, running over.
Sam, who had gotten free of the net, walked up to him with a stopwatch in her hand.
"Caught in only 45 seconds," she said. "That's a new record!"
Sean blushed at the praise, not really thinking anything of it, then pulled out his wallet phone.
"Jerry," he said as the image of his boss came on the screen. "We need to you to pick up our jewel thief."
"And we kind of need a ride back to L.A," Sam admitted. "Alex kind of... crashed our jet into the reflecting pool at the National Mall."
Alex was on the receiving end of two glares that could move anything her parents gave her to shame.
"I said I was sorry!" she defended.
Jerry ignored this.
"Well, I can pick up the thief," Jerry replied. "But I'm afraid I have another assignment for you, spies."
Sean, Sam, and Alex just groaned.
"Right now?!" Alex complained.
"But it's the middle of the night!" Sam pointed out.
"Jerry," Sean said. "We've been on three missions this week. We're exhausted!"
"I'm sorry, Sean," Jerry consoled. "But I've just received word that the Chancellor of Austria is being held hostage. And you're the only agents I can spare."
The spies moaned in resignation as Jerry hung up.
"Another all-nighter!" Alex said, practically on the verge of tears.
"Well," Sean said. "Might as well."
Sam looked around.
"Uh, where's Clover?" she asked.
In another wing of the museum, Clover was admiring an ornate diamond necklace on display that was once worn by Queen Isabella I.
"Ooh!" she said happily. "Wouldn't that look good with my new pumps?"
"Clover!" her teammates yelled from the doorway impatiently.
Jumping she turned around.
"Alright!" she said. "I'm coming!"
Sean's House-4:30 PM
Alex groaned as she fell onto Sean's couch, rubbing her back, which was still sore from all the action the night before.
"I don't know about you guys," she said. "But I don't ever wanna move again!"
"Me too!" Sam agreed almost fainting on the living room rug.
"I'd say 'me three," Clover agreed from the other side of the couch. "But I just don't have the energy."
Sean, though just as exhausted, lifted his head up.
"At least you didn't have to do it alone," he said.
"Now that would be a nightmare!" Sam said, agreeing.
"Yeah!" Clover said, massaging her sore arm. "Being a spy on a team is painful enough. But solo? I'd sooner wear Mandy's clothes."
"Thanks, Clover," Alex said sarcastically. "I needed that mental image, thank you very much!"
"Wait a sec," Sam said, turning her head to look up at Sean, who sat between Alex and Clover.
"What?" he asked.
"You said 'at least you didn't have to do this alone.' Does that mean you went on a mission before you met us?"
"No. I mean, yes. It's complicated."
"Complicated how?" Clover asked.
"It happened around the same time I joined W.O.O.H.P," Sean explained. "It wasn't an official mission."
"You know, we were wondering," Alex pointed out. "How did you join W.O.O.H.P in the first place?"
Sean sat up a little straighter.
"I never told you?" he asked.
The girls shook their heads.
"I think we'd have remembered that," Clover said.
Sean exhaled sharply.
"It's kind of a long story," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Well, what are you waiting for?!" Alex said excitedly, having more energy than she did five minutes before. "Tell us!"
The other girls looked at him, silently pleading with him, their eyes bright and wide.
"Well," Sean said. "Okay."
He cleared his throat.
"It was-"
"Wait!" the girls shouted before zooming into other parts of the house.
Sam ran up to Sean's room, taking three pillows out of his closet, while Alex and Clover were in the kitchen.
Alex put a bag of popcorn in the microwave while Clover stuffed strawberries, bananas and yogurt into the nearby blender.
Minutes later, the girls were back pillows laid on the floor in front of a bowl of popcorn and four smoothies in glasses on the coffee table behind them.
"Okay, we're ready!" they said, as Sam handed Sean a glass.
Taking a sip of strawberry-banana smoothie, Sean continued.
"It was during 7th grade. I'd just started the year, and after the kind year I had before, I wasn't too optimistic about this one either..."
Three Years Earlier
"No way!" a younger Sean Warren protested. He was shorter, thinner, and had a much higher voice. "I'm not going!"
Without letting go of the wheel of the car, Rachel Warren glanced at her son. Sean knew his mother long enough to recognize that this kind of glance could easily be considered a glare.
"Sean," she said sternly. "I don't have time to have this argument with you. You didn't have a problem with school before."
"Yeah!" Sean argued. "Elementary school. This is middle school!"
He sulked in his car seat, watching the busy L.A traffic rush by.
"What's so different about this school?" Rachel asked.
Sean crossed his arms.
"Andrew Chase, that's what."
Rachel rolled her eyes.
"I see what this is about," she said. "Do you want me to talk to your principal? I'm sure we can-"
"No!" Sean pleaded. "You'll just make it worse!"
"Make it worse? Sean, this kid picked on you every day last year. You have to do something."
"I am. It's called 'laying low'. I figure if he doesn't notice me, he can't bully me."
Rachel scoffed. "You know, a kid I treated in the hospital a year ago said that exact same thing. And this after he came in with the worst black eye I've ever seen."
At long last, the school came in to view.
"Sean," she continued. "You can't solve all your problems by ignoring them. Sometimes, you just have to confront them."
"Confront Andrew Chase?!" Sean asked incredulously. "Mom, he's twice my size! He'll kill me!"
"Not if you stand up to him," his mother countered. "How many people have actually stood up to this kid?"
Sean sighed. "No one. But that's-"
"Then he's not used to people not being afraid of him. I bet deep down, he's as scared of you as you are of him."
Rachel put a kind, reassuring hand on her son's shoulder.
"Take it from me. Sometimes, you just have to stand up to people who are hurting you and others."
"That's easy for you to say," Sean said miserably. "You've never had to."
Rachel turned away, trying to hide the sad expression on her face.
"I'll pick you up this afternoon," she said at last. Reaching over, she hugged him lightly.
"I love you," she added quickly.
Wrestling his way out of the hug after returning it for a few seconds, Sean opened the car door and stepped out of the front passenger seat... toward the school entrance.
So far, so good, he reasoned. He'd been able to avoid Andrew for most of the day.
Maybe he's sick, Sean hoped as he walked down the locker-filled halls of Beverly Vista Middle School. Maybe he moved. Maybe he got expelled. I mean, he's mean enough.
But all his hopes were quickly dashed when he arrived at his next class.
There, in the math classroom, stood the one person he'd hoped to avoid.
Andrew Chase was wider, taller and paler than Sean, with jet black hair and eyes so gray they looked almost dead. And yet every time Sean saw this eyes, he could swear they lit up with delight whenever he dunked his head in a toilet or punched him in the stomach.
Or like now, where they appeared to shine in delight at the sight of their owner's favorite victim.
Even worse, Sean learned his desk was right next to Andrew's.
So much for laying low, he thought.
Sean tried to beg the teacher, a stocky man with red hair named Mr. Gotti, to reassign him to a new desk. It went about is well as expected.
"You sit where I say you sit," he said sternly.
"But-" Sean tried to say, but Mr. Gotti raised a hand to silence him.
"And I don't like it when students talk back to me! Now, take your seat!"
Sean groaned in frustration, but decided to just grin and bear it. Well, bear it, anyway.
The class was another issue. Math was Sean's absolute worst subject. It always had been.
Sure, he knew basic addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.
But looking up at the chalkboard, he could have sworn it was a completely different language.
This made it easier for him to forget everything else around him... including who sat next to him and what he was folding at the desk.
Well, actually, Andrew was so dumb, he could only fold a paper in half. So he settled for crumpling the sheet into a ball, and throwing it at Mr. Gotti's back while it was turned.
Stopping his lesson, Mr. Gotti turned, looking for whoever threw the paper. Most everyone was concentrating on their work, save for Andrew who pointed at Sean accusingly.
"So!" Mr. Gotti said with barely contained fury. "You think you're pretty funny, do you?!"
Looking up from his paper, Sean felt all the blood drain from his face.
"Well-" he began, but could say no more before the teacher held up the paper ball.
"Well, I'm not laughing!"
It didn't take too long for Sean to realize what happened exactly.
"But I didn't throw-"
Mr. Gotti slammed his fist on the top of Sean's desk.
"Since it's the first day back, I'm letting you off with a warning. But act up again, and you'll wish you never set foot in my classroom."
Mr. Gotti returned to the chalkboard, mumbling under his breath, though Sean could only hear the phrase, "rotten kids."
"Well," Sean said to himself, closing his locker door. "This is just wonderful. I get picked on by Andrew, make an enemy of a crazy math teacher, and I forget my biology textbook all in one day!"
He lowered his head in despair.
"What next?!"
However, he was unaware of a small, straw-like metal tube sticking out of the vent of the locker next to his.
And that it was aimed directly at the back of Andrew's neck.
The metal straw fired a small, round, wet projectile at its target.
"Ow!" Andrew exclaimed in pain as he looked around.
The only person he saw where the shot came from was Sean.
Even to someone smarter than Andrew, Sean would've looked guilty.
"Well, look who's not so much a wimp anymore!" Andrew said as he sauntered over.
Confused, Sean looked up at his aggressor.
"So, Wimpy Warren decided he wants to act tough!"
Seeing the remnants of the spitball on the floor, Sean realized instantly what had happened.
"That wasn't me," he said, the trembling in his voice matching that of his body.
"Like hell, it wasn't!" Andrew growled, balling up his fists.
By this point, Sean and Andrew's confrontation had attracted an audience of two people... which doubled to four, then eight, and finally sixteen.
"I don't wanna fight you," Sean said, trying to sound brave. And failing, judging by the laugh coming Andrew's lips.
"I don't blame ya!" Andrew said cockily. "I wouldn't want to be you, right now."
He threw his left fist forward, but months of dodging those blows on a daily basis had sharpened Sean's reflexes to the point that he could anticipate them. Changing tactics, Andrew just charged at him like a bull.
With how narrow the crowd was, there was no way to avoid this.
Which was why it surprised Sean that, in his effort to jump out of the way, he did a complete backflip before landing harmlessly on his feet.
Andrew had kept going only to stop when he realized his target wasn't on the ground begging for mercy.
Not learning from his mistake, he charged at Sean again... this time, with a more humiliating result.
Rather than doing a backflip, Sean just jumped again, but this time only high enough that he was level to Andrew's chest, which received a sound kick from Sean's right foot sending the bigger boy flying backwards into a trash can.
As the students cheered, a girl came up to Sean.
"How did you do that?" she asked.
"I... don't know," he replied.
But it didn't matter, for that was when Mr. Gotti broke through the crowd, fixing his gaze on Sean.
"This isn't what it looks like," he tried to defend.
"I don't want to hear it," Mr. Gotti snapped. "Principal's office, now!"
The principal's office was warmer than Sean imagined it would be, which struck him as odd since the thought of being sent there chilled every student to the bone. But he felt it should have been colder, considering this was the first time he could remember ever being sent there.
The principal-a thin, tan woman named Elena Hunt-sat behind a desk made of black wood. Her face was unreadable, which made Sean feel even worse.
"Miss Hunt," Sean tried to explain. "You can't seriously think I-"
She raised a hand to signal him to stop talking.
"It's okay, Sean," she said. "You don't need to explain anything."
Now he was really confused.
"I don't?"
"I was looking at surveillance footage during the fight, and I can see you were only defending yourself."
He clasped his fingers together, anxious.
"So, I'm not in trouble?" he asked hopefully.
Miss Hunt sighed in disappointment.
"I didn't say that," she clarified. "You still attacked a fellow student. You were lucky you didn't injure him."
"But he attacked me first!" Sean defended.
"I know. And I'll deal with what he did. But fighting isn't tolerated at this school, regardless of who started it."
Sinking in his chair, Sean looked down at the floor.
"So, what happens to Andrew?"
Miss Hunt adjusted her silver framed eyeglasses.
"He'll be given a week of detention. And Mr. Gotti suggested I do the same thing to you."
She rose from her desk, gently moving toward Sean.
"However, since you're normally a model student, Sean, I've decided to let you off this once. But I will be calling your mother."
Well, Sean thought. I'm sure in for it.
"And," Miss Hunt added. "I should let you know that this is the only warning you'll get from me. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sean replied. "So, may I go back to class, now?"
"Actually," Miss Hunt said. "I wanted to talk to you about something else."
Sean raised an eyebrow.
"I saw your... performance in the hallway. I've never seen a kick quite like that."
She held up a sheet of paper, one with an illustrated action of a shoe kicking a black and white soccer ball.
"Soccer tryouts are in three weeks. Have you considered signing up?"
Sean considered it. But...
"No, but thank you."
Miss Hunt put the paper down.
"I thought as much," she said. "I'm disappointed, but not surprised."
"What do you mean?" Sean asked.
"Well, last year you wrote the best short story in your class, but you didn't enter into our writing competition. You're good at painting, but you don't put your work in our student art fair. Swimming, track, choir, band. It seems like every time you get the chance to join an extracurricular activity, you turn it down. Can you explain that for me?"
There was only one reason for that: Andrew Davis. He'd bullied Sean enough when he was barely visible. Being on a team or club would only draw more attention to him. And Andrew hated the idea of anyone he picked on being popular because that meant that they were off limits.
But Sean didn't want to admit the real reason.
"I guess I'm just shy," he answered. Of course, that wasn't a complete lie. In fact, it was one of the many reasons Andrew singled him out in particular.
Miss Hunt, however, didn't seem to buy it.
"Well," she said kindly. "I hope you change your mind one day. You have a lot of potential, Sean. Don't waste it."
"Potential?" Sean asked on his way out of history class, repeating Miss Hunt's words. "I have potential, alright. Potential to be a complete loser for the rest of my life."
As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew there was no point in denying it. He had no friends, no popularity, and no way to get either one.
True, he admitted, his short story last year was the best in the class, but it made everyone else's look bad by comparison.
How he remembered the glare he'd received from Andrew Chase and being tossed in the garbage can afterwards.
Sure, Andrew had gotten detention, afterwards, but still...
Speak of the devil, Sean saw him thundering his way with a look that could kill on his face.
Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away, Sean thought.
But it was not to be.
"You got me a week of detention, you little twerp!" Andrew growled as he picked Sean up the front of his shirt.
Sean tried to object, but his fear kept him from uttering a single word.
"I-" he tried to say, before Andrew slammed him against the lockers.
"Shut up!" Andrew shouted before reaching over to his own locker, turning the combination. Sean didn't need to ask what was about to happen to him.
Because it happened many times before.
"See you get out of this," Andrew taunted, shoving Sean into the locker and slamming the door.
It was true that Sean was thin enough to slip through the narrow doorway of a locker, but that didn't make the experience any less of an ordeal for him.
The last few times this happened, he would bang on the inside until a teacher or janitor came by and let him out. But the way he was feeling now, he didn't even have the nerve to try. Andrew would just be there waiting to torment him again.
"Might as well just sit here until the last bell rings," he sulked. But was unaware that he wouldn't have to.
At that moment, the floor beneath him split in two to reveal a trap door, one which opened up to a long, dark tunnel.
Sean slid through the darkness screaming, and terrified out of his wits.
"Okay!" he shouted, knowing no one could hear him, or at least unsure. "If this is another prank, it's not funny!"
His ride ended after crashing through another hatch and landing on a round, pink cushion.
Daring to look up, he saw a wide room that looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.
All around him were dark gray tiles with a long carpet taking up the center of the room.
The carpet ended at a desk that looked like none Sean had ever seen before. It was made completely out of metal, with a wide variety of knobs, buttons and switches all over the top. And behind the desk was a screen that appeared to be about the size of one of his school's blackboards.
The swivel chair behind the desk was turned around, so Sean couldn't see if it was occupied or not.
"Uh, hello?" he called out. "Anyone home?"
No answer.
Predicable, of course.
"Well, okay! I guess I'll just go!"
He quickly stood up from the cushion.
"Weird. I didn't even think this school had a basement."
"That's because it doesn't," another voice said from somewhere in front.
"Huh?" Sean asked.
The chair in the desk swung around, revealing a pale, balding man in a dark suit whom Sean estimated to be in his late 50s.
"Welcome to W.O.O.H.P headquarters," the man said in a smooth British accent.
Sean raised an eyebrow, bewildered.
"What headquarters?" he asked.
The man pressed a button on the underside of his desk.
From out of the top came a simple, yet elegant teapot with matching cups.
"This may be much for you to take in," the man said, stating the obvious. "Perhaps we should discuss this over a soothing cup of Earl Grey."
"Okay," Sean replied, not really knowing what else to say. He walked over to the desk where the man was already pouring the boiling liquid into two teacups.
"I wasn't really sure what you'd prefer," the man went on, handing his cup to Sean. "But this was my favorite tea when I was your age."
"I've never had tea before," Sean said, honestly.
The man looked up in surprise.
"No? Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it anyway."
Cautiously, Sean took a sip. It was still scalding and it tasted bitter going down.
"No offense," Sean said. "But this could be better."
"Hmm? Oh, I forgot to ask if you wanted sugar."
He pulled out a bowl filled with a bout a dozen or so sugar cubes.
Taking one, Sean let it drop into his tea.
"Who are you?" he asked the man, getting straight to the point.
"Oh, yes. I suppose introductions are in order," the man said, stirring his tea.
"My name is Jerry."
"Jerry? Like the mouse?"
Jerry sighed. "Yes. And you can spare the jokes. I've heard them all before."
"Right, sorry."
Sean put his cup back on the desk.
"So, Jerry. Should I be wondering why I'm here? Or where 'here' even is?"
"Both excellent questions," Jerry responded. "You are in my office at W.O.O.H.P headquarters in downtown Los Angeles."
"I'm sorry. What? I thought I was hearing things the first time you said it. What the hell is W.O.O.H.P?"
Jerry snapped his fingers in response. The screen behind him lit up to show a giant, "W" shaped building towering over the others in Los Angeles."
"World Organization of Human Protection," Jerry explained. "W.O.O.H.P. We're an elite espionage organization dedicated to combatting international crime."
The screen turned off.
Sean stood there processing what he had just heard.
"Espionage?" he asked. "You mean you're-"
"Spies," Jerry confirmed. "And that brings me to why you're here, Sean."
If Sean had been drinking his tea right now, it would have been ejected from his mouth.
"How do you know my name?" he asked in shock.
Jerry smiled.
"I know more about you than just your name. I know write down story ideas but don't show them to anyone out of fear that no one will like them. I know you like black pepper on popcorn. I know you were afraid of the dark until you were ten years old. And I know you have a birthmark shaped like a star on the back of your left ankle."
Sean could only blink in surprise as Jerry cleared his throat.
"As to how I know," the older man continued. "I've been observing you for some time, analyzing your abilities and sense of justice."
The screen behind him lit up again, showing footage of his "fight" with Andrew Chase earlier that very day.
"And after a little-erm-intervention on my part, I've concluded that you're a perfect candidate to join W.O.O.H.P's spy team!"
Sean backed away, unsure of whether or not he had heard Jerry correctly.
"Excuse me?" he said. "You're kidding, right? This has gotta be some kind of prank."
"I assure you, I'm sincere," Jerry said, but Sean wasn't convinced.
"And I'm supposed to believe a guy who spied on me?"
Then another possibility hit him.
"Wait a sec, I know what's going on here. I'm dreaming."
Jerry sat down, watching the boy with utter confusion.
"I knew I shouldn't have eaten those jalapeno nachos before bed. This always happens when I do that."
He closed his eyes, holding his hand over the flesh of his arm.
"Okay, when I open my eyes, I'm gonna be in my room, and this whole thing will just be a bad dream."
He pinched his arm as hard and painfully as he believed possible.
Any minute now, he was going to wake up in his own bed and find his mother shaking him, reminding him that it was time for his real first day of 7th grade, not the bizarre day he'd been having thus far.
But when his eyes opened, he saw that his surroundings were still the same. And Jerry still stood there, waiting for an answer that was going to disappoint him.
"Weird," Sean said. "That usually works."
"This is no dream, Sean," Jerry said. "You have been chosen to be a spy."
Sean dropped his arms in defeat.
"What makes you think I can be one? Or that I even want to be one?"
"Well, your skills have proven to me that it is possible for you. However, it's still ultimately your choice."
Sean walked back over to Jerry's desk.
"You have potential, Sean. But what you do with it is up to you."
Sean thought about it. And it wasn't very hard or long, either.
"I'm sorry, Jerry," he sighed. "But you've got the wrong guy. I'm not who you're looking for."
You have potential, Sean.
Miss Hunt had said the same thing about him earlier today. And his mother told him similar things his entire life.
So why couldn't he see it?
"I understand, Sean," Jerry said. "And I will gladly send you back to your school, if you wish."
Sean nodded, not eagerly but still emphatically.
"However..."
Jerry opened a drawer behind his desk and took out a black rectangular object.
"Before you go, I have a gift for you."
He threw it to him.
Catching it, Sean looked it over.
"A wallet?"
Jerry shook his head.
"That wallet is actually high-tech communicator and handheld supercomputer rolled into one," he explained. "If you ever change your mind, you can use this to contact me."
Sean opened the wallet, revealing a wide variety of buttons and keys below a small screen.
"One more thing," Jerry added. "As a professional courtesy, I must ask that you not reveal what you have seen or heard here to anyone."
"You don't have to worry about that," Sean replied. "I don't think anyone's going believe me."
"Well, be that as it may, W.O.O.H.P is a secret organization... and we'd very much like to keep it that way. Cheerio, Sean."
Jerry pressed another button on his desk and Sean was sent screaming down another tunnel, this one ending in the boy's restroom at his school.
Sean mostly tried to forget the encounter with Jerry as the weeks went by. He was tempted to dismiss the whole thing as a dream or something he imagined to pass the time waiting for the janitor to let him out of the locker. But the presence of the wallet phone in his back pocket reminded him otherwise.
He didn't even know why he carried it with him everywhere now. He took it with him to school, to bed, even sticking it in the medicine cabinet every time he took a shower.
Maybe he was a little intrigued, excited even, about the potential prospect of being a spy. But he put them out of his head very quickly.
I'd just screw it up, he thought to himself.
As he closed the door to his locker, he stared at it for a long time, remembering when he'd taken the unexpected ride that ended in that office.
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the very same boy that put him in that locker in the first place.
Andrew was marching slowly through the hallway, his expression blank, which Sean found unusual for him. Andrew's face was usually a perpetual smirk.
But that didn't stop him from wincing when the larger boy walked by.
Whatever he expected to happen, like a punch to the face or a reprise of being stuffed in the locker, didn't.
Instead, Andrew just shuffled by, seemingly not noticing that Sean existed.
"That was weird," he said to himself. "But hey, at least I walked away without a bruise this time."
As much as Sean expected that to be the end of it, he was surprised to learn that it was only the beginning.
Throughout the school, he couldn't help but notice that a number of students who were once so passionate about... well, anything were now listless and appeared to be just going through the motions.
Kevin Richardson, a boy who dreamed nothing more than being a volleyball star, was found in gym to barely even hit the ball when it was served to him, only tapping it lightly with his wrist as it flew toward him.
Then, Clarissa Burton, a girl in Sean's art class, who was once so driven to become the next Vincent Van Gogh, now aimlessly slapped the brush against the canvas, not even trying to make anything resembling a painting.
It got even stranger when Sean passed the music room, as what he heard from within made him cover his ears in agony.
Everyone else in the music room thought the same thing, apparently, as the next thing Sean knew, every student ran out in protest.
Daring to take a look inside the mostly empty room, he saw Peter Clark, who he knew from Mr. Gotti's class sitting in the only chair still unoccupied playing an oboe. Very badly.
Sean narrowed his eyes in confusion then turned to a girl who lingered back after leaving the room, her bassoon clutched under her arm.
"Is he always that bad?" he asked.
"Not usually," the girl responded, sounding confused. "Normally, he has perfect pitch. But since last week, he's been slipping."
"What happened last week?"
"Well, Mr. Gotti did call him into his classroom after school."
Sean narrowed his eyes.
"Mr. Gotti?" he asked. "That doesn't make any sense."
The next day, after hearing from his mother she'd be working late, Sean lingered around the school as the day drew closer to its end.
Having asked around, he found out most of the affected students were in Mr. Gotti's class. And he didn't think it was a coincidence.
Hiding behind the lockers directly outside the room, he waited for a student to walk in.
After what seemed like forever, his wait came to an end when a boy walked up to the door.
Seizing his opportunity, Sean crouched down below the door and listened carefully.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" he could hear the boy ask.
But then the boy's questioning turned to protests.
"No!" he shouted. "Get away! What are you gonna do with that?!"
Curiosity overtook fear as Sean lifted up his head enough to see in through the window of the door.
Inside, Mr. Gotti was leaning over his desk, holding the boy down and jamming a syringe filled with bright green liquid into his student's arm.
Instantly, the boy stopped struggling and Mr. Gotti let him go.
With an almost zombie-like gait, the boy shuffled out of the classroom, his face completely blank, like he'd forgotten how to feel fear or any other kind of emotion.
Sean ducked back behind the lockers as he watched the student limp off.
He wasn't sure what just happened, but he knew it couldn't have been good.
"So," the police officer said, in a tone that he didn't believe Sean's story. "You say that your math teacher's been drugging your classmates with some kind of gunk that makes them act like zombies?"
Sean nodded. After school, rather than taking the bus home like he always did when his mother worked late, he walked to the police station to report what he had seen.
Having been there for a little over an hour, it didn't seem like his story was going to convince anyone.
The police officer's chuckle only further confirmed his fears.
"Okay, kid," the officer said. "Why don't you tell me what really happened?"
"I am telling you," Sean said with emphasis. "I saw my math teacher give a kid a shot that-"
But the officer raised up a hand, dead serious.
"You do know that it's against the law to make a false report, right?"
Sean groaned. "Yes, but-"
"And it's a crime punishable by six months in jail."
"I know that, but-"
"But I'm gonna let it slide, since you're still a kid and all," the officer said, taking a sip from a coffee mug, earning a glare from Sean.
"Now, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna call your parents, and-"
But he never said what would happen next, for when he looked up from his coffee mug again, Sean was gone.
Outside the police station, Sean walked down the steps kicking a nearby soda can in frustration.
"'To serve and protect!'" he scoffed. "Those idiots couldn't protect a goldfish!"
Then his head dropped to look at his feet.
"Well, if they're not gonna do anything," he said, looking back at the door. "Then I guess it's up to me."
But what?
What could he do exactly?
As he had told Jerry just two weeks ago, he didn't think he was cut out for this sort of thing.
Then it struck him.
Jerry! he thought, remembering the older man's description of W.O.O.H.P as an organization that fought international crime.
If regular police couldn't do anything, maybe a spy could.
Dashing down the steps of the building, Sean ducked into an alley, where he hoped no one could see what he was about to do.
Taking the wallet phone out of his back pocket, he looked over at all the buttons, desperately trying to find one that would let him call Jerry.
After a few failures, including accidentally projecting a hologram of Woodrow Wilson for whatever reason, Sean found the button that connected him to W.O.O.H.P's communications network.
He was never so relieved to see Jerry's face again.
"Sean," Jerry said, shocked. "This is an unexpected pleasure. Does this mean you've changed your mind about being a spy?"
"No," Sean denied. "I mean, yes. I mean, maybe. But that's not the point. Look, I kind of have a crisis on my hands."
Jerry raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of crisis?"
"The kind where something weird and bad is happening and the police won't believe a word I say about it!" he looked back to the building in anger. "My math teacher is injecting some of the kids at my school with... something. I don't know what it is, but it's making them act like they aren't even human anymore."
Before Jerry could ask more, Sean went into detail about how the students who were once so passionate about sports, art and the like were now like unemotional drones.
"Oh, my!" Jerry said, concern very evident in his voice.
"I know, it's scary," Sean agreed. "And for all I know, the stuff he's using could be dangerous."
But Jerry didn't seem to be doing anything that looked like solving the problem. At least, not yet.
"Well?" Sean asked, urgency growing in his voice. "Aren't you gonna send someone to look into this? I mean, you're a spy organization for God's sake!"
"Unfortunately, there's no one to send," Jerry replied apologetically. "All of our other agents are on assignment elsewhere."
Sean bowed his head in defeat. Then an idea struck him.
"Send me," he suggested.
"What?" Jerry asked, as if he could not believe what he had heard.
"You said I had potential to be a spy. Well, I guess now's my chance to prove it."
Jerry crossed his arms, announcing the inevitable denial of Sean's request before he even heard it.
"I'm sorry, Sean," he consoled. "But I don't have time to train you right now. And I can't send an untrained agent into the field like this."
"I don't care," Sean argued. "Someone has do something about this. It's my school, so it's my problem."
"Just a few weeks ago, you were telling me I made a mistake," Jerry pointed out.
Sweat dropped off of Sean's temple.
"I was kind of hoping you'd forget that," he said. "Besides, that was before I knew what was going on."
Jerry sighed.
"Well, I suppose I could make you an interim spy."
"Interim?" Sean asked. "As in temporary?"
Jerry nodded.
"Think of it as a trial basis."
"Thanks, Jerry," Sean said sincerely. "So, what do I do first?"
"Well," Jerry began. "You said you saw these events in your classroom, correct?"
Sean nodded in affirmation.
"Then that's the best place to begin your investigation."
"Right," Sean agreed. "I'm heading there now."
"Not just yet," Jerry stopped him. "You may not be an official spy yet, but you're still doing the job of one. And you can't do that without gadgets."
"Gadgets?" Sean asked.
"That's right. I'm sending them via airdrop as we speak."
In less than a second, Sean heard the sound of fabric ruffling in the breeze.
Behind him, attached to a white parachute was a blue circular backpack with a giant "W" emblazoned on the front.
"Inside," Jerry explained. "You'll find the Wind Tunnel 3000 Tornado Blast Hair Dryer, the Cyber Jacker Sunglasses, and the Vesuvius Spray-on Deodorant. Word of advice, don't spray that on unless you want to lose two layers of skin."
As the sun set, Sean stood outside the side door of Beverly Vista Middle, which he determined was the best way to enter the school undetected.
The only obstacle preventing him from getting in was an electronic keypad on the right side of the door.
"Okay," he said to himself, pulling out the Cyber Jacker Sunglasses. "Let's see if these really work."
Putting them on, he remembered the instructions to press a button on the side in order for the glasses to do their job.
Sean was surprised to see that the numbers flashed before his eyes through the lenses.
Typing them in carefully, he pulled the door open and snuck inside.
"Okay, Mr. Gotti's room is down this hall, fourth door on the left. I just hope he doesn't work late."
Coming to the room, he opened the door as quietly as he could.
Mercifully, the room was empty, but he dare not turn a light on for fear of attracting unwanted attention from outside the school or inside it.
Luckily, the sunglasses Jerry had provided him also included night vision.
"Now, if I were an evil mastermind," he said, thinking aloud. "Where would I keep my plans?"
He started with the desk, opening drawers and looking through files.
There was nothing to indicate what Mr. Gotti was doing, but he did see that a good many students were failing his class.
Of course, the ones that weren't, their names were incredibly obvious to him: Clarissa Burton, Kevin Richardson, and Peter Clark. And shockingly, Andrew Chase.
"That's strange," he commented. "Since when does Andrew do well in any class except gym?"
He leaned backward in the teacher's chair, unknowingly activating a hidden switch.
Sean didn't know what to expect, but the wall opening up behind him was not one of them.
But the eerie green glow from deep inside did look promising.
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere."
The passageway had to be at least four feet underground, judging by the sound of cars rushing over his head.
At the very end was a large lab bench welded to a marble floor, holding at least two dozen beakers of the same green liquid Sean had seen in the syringe earlier that day.
"Huh," he chuckled. "I wonder how he did all this on a math teacher's salary?"
Sean leaned over the bench, picking up a test tube of the fluid.
"Let's see what Jerry makes of this."
He took out the wallet phone. Sure enough, Jerry was ready to answer his question.
"Jerry, I think I found what he's making," he informed the man. "I just wish I could tell what it was."
"There is a way," Jerry said. "Your wallet phone has a scanner just below the screen. Pour the substance onto it and I can give you an analysis."
Sean did as instructed, letting the luminous green liquid trickle onto his wallet phone.
On the other end of the call, Jerry looked at the scan results from a printed sheet of paper.
"Got it," he confirmed.
"Well, what is it?" Sean asked.
"The fluid you've sent over is actually derived from a potent venom secreted by the rare Tartarus Jellyfish, found only off the southern coast of Madagascar."
"Wait, jellyfish venom? That's what he's been drugging these kids with?"
Jerry continued to look at the results.
"Apparently, the venom can leave a person a vegetative state for up to one week."
"But they can still walk," Sean pointed out.
"Yes. It seems that the venom, combined with the hormone serotonin and the stimulant cathinone create an effect that inhibits the amygdala's ability to function."
"Amygdala?" Sean asked, confused.
"The part of the brain that enables emotion."
Sean almost dropped his wallet phone in shock.
"And Gotti's injecting kids with this?"
"Well," Jerry continued. "I have good news and bad news from this. The good news is I can synthesize an antidote from the sample you provide for me."
"And the bad news?" Sean asked.
"The bad news is I've learned that the venom can lead to cardiac arrest in large doses. So, don't let Gotti inject anymore students with it."
Sean gulped.
"How long should it take to make an antidote?" he asked.
"I can have it ready by morning," Jerry replied. "But you have to find Gotti and stop him before he does anymore damage."
"Right."
And with that, Sean hung up just as a huge glass cylinder came down from the ceiling, trapping him.
"What the hell?!" he exclaimed.
Two robotic manacles erupted from the floor and wrapped themselves around his ankles.
"Well, you found me," a voice said from the shadows. "But stopping me is not going to happen."
Sean recognized that voice.
The lights in the room turned on to reveal Gotti, clapping slowly, sarcastically.
Sean balled up a fist and brought it down on the glass, which he instantly regretted for he soon found himself clutching his wrist in pain.
"That's not going to help you," Gotti said, as he walked over. "That's plexiglass. You won't break that very easily."
Getting over the pain, Sean glared at his soon-to-be former math teacher.
"I know what you've been doing!" he exclaimed. "You've been injecting your students with this stuff and making them act like robots!"
Gotti scowled.
"I see," the man said, displeasure growing in his voice. "And did you bother to find out why?"
Sean didn't answer, but the thought had been growing in his mind.
"Well, I'll tell you: my class has the absolute worst grades in the entire school. I slave day after day, year after year, teaching you little hellions the value of pi. But do you bother to pay attention? No! Your minds are always focused on pointless things like football or painting or music."
"Well, hate to break it to you," Sean interjected. "But that's hardly our fault."
Gotti punched his fist onto the lab bench.
"With how poorly you've been doing," he continued ranting. "My salary was cut! Well, now I'm going to make sure it doesn't get cut any further."
He moved in closer to Sean's face.
"I may be a mathematician, but I minored in chemistry. Through careful research, I was able to create a formula that inhibits emotion... letting cold logic take over the brain. Now, with nothing else to be passionate about, my students are excelling in a class they once hated and are giving me the respect I deserve!"
"You know," Sean said. "Did it ever occur to you that it wasn't the class that they hated?"
Gotti glared at the boy in hate.
"I mean, with you, it's always 'my way or the highway'. Kids don't like it when they're being ordered around."
"And what makes you think I care what you brats like?" Gotti sneered.
"It's not gonna work anyway. You only teach 7th grade. And it doesn't look like you have enough of this gunk to inject them with."
Gotti's lips turned up into a grin.
"How right you are," he conceded. "Which is why I'm skipping ahead to my backup plan."
Sean didn't want to know what that was, but he was about to get the answer anyway.
"Up until now, the formula only worked by being introduced into the bloodstream. But now I've perfected an aerosol form of which can be absorbed through the lungs. At tomorrow's homecoming pep rally, I will disperse it through the gym and the whole student body will be under my control."
Sean's jaw went slack.
"Are you crazy?!" he asked. "That stuff is dangerous! You're gonna kill hundreds of innocent people!"
Gotti placed his finger under his chin, as if contemplating.
"Wondering if I care," he said. "Uh... no. Frankly, I never could stand all of you, anyway."
As Sean grit his teeth in anger, Gotti turned to leave.
"But don't worry. I'm not going to waste my serum on you. That capsule you're in has a very powerful vacuum underneath your feet, and in fifteen minutes, it will suck all of the oxygen out of it."
Sean paled.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get ready for the last pep rally this school will ever see."
And with that, he was gone.
Sean moved fast, reaching down to try the lift the capsule but he was too weak and the plexiglass was too heavy.
"I've gotta think fast before I run out of air," he said, trying to contain his panic.
And he didn't have much time. Already, he was beginning to feel lightheaded.
"Okay, plexiglass is hard to break, but not impossible. If only I could make it softer."
Then it hit him. Reaching into his backpack, he took out the Vesuvius Spray-On Deodorant.
As the spray hit the shackles binding his ankles, they softened into the texture of melted butter, allowing him to slip free.
Then he concentrated on the container. Within minutes, the plexiglass was soft enough for him to kick it into pieces.
"Good. Now I just have to make sure he doesn't set that serum off in the gym."
The whole school turned out for the pep rally the next day, which would give Gotti the perfect opportunity to release the aerosol version of his serum.
Nearly every student focused on the dancing cheerleaders below the bleachers as well as the student costumed as a giant bulldog performing various poses beside them.
Sean, however, scanned the room as carefully as he could, looking for anything amiss.
To his dismay, however, there was no sign of Gotti or... whatever it was he planned to use to convert his serum into a gas.
"I don't understand," he said to himself. "He wouldn't just disappear."
He bowed his, pondering.
Then he had it.
"Unless he didn't want to be seen!"
Thinking fast, Sean rose to his feet and stumbled his way through some very confused and very angry students.
"Sorry!" he apologized. "Excuse me! I've gotta use the bathroom!"
Once he was out of the stands, he resumed his search, careful to remain out of any teachers' line of sight.
Logically, Gotti would have to be in the shadows somewhere.
The locker rooms, both boys and girls' would have been too obvious a choice. And they were airtight, anyway.
And then there was the temporary stage that housed the football team. Once again, too obvious. And it would be impossible to smuggle whatever device he intended to use on the stage ahead of time.
That just left the bleachers.
He couldn't do anything from the stands without being seen. But behind them, that was another story.
And all at once, Sean knew where to look.
He stepped into the shadows the bleachers cast, and walked through them, looking for any trace of Gotti.
"Maybe I was wrong," he admitted to himself. "He could be anywhere!"
That was when he fell backwards upon colliding with a massive indistinct figure.
Somehow, he knew who it was before they started speaking.
"Watch where you're-" Gotti started but stopped upon seeing Sean. "You?!"
Quickly getting back on his feet, Sean took a combat stance.
"Give it up, Gotti!" he warned. "There's nowhere for you to run!"
Gotti just smiled and gestured to a large, dome-shaped machine behind him.
"If I were you," he sneered, as he reached for a knob on the side. "I'd be worried more about myself."
Sean tried to land a punch, but didn't move fast enough.
He collided his fist with the back of Gotti's head, but not before the deranged math teacher had activated the device.
Back on the other side of the bleachers, the cheering of the students and the performances of the band and cheer squad evaporated, replaced with confusion, then panic.
And that panic doubled when students and teachers alike began coughing from breathing the vapor in.
Gotti was unconscious by his machine, but Sean was too late to stop it from releasing the serum, which came out from vents beneath the dome's edge.
"Oh, no," he muttered as he scrambled to the machine, trying not to breathe the stuff in.
Pulling his shirt up, he buried his nose and mouth into it, forming a makeshift mask.
"Okay, there's gotta be a way to disarm this, somehow."
He ripped off the top of the machine, exposing its wires and circuitry. If the spy movies he watched every now and then were even similar to real life, there was a wire that you had to unplug in order disarm a bomb or in this case, a device spewing forth deadly poisonous gas.
But Sean didn't know which wire it was.
"Blue? Red? Green?" he questioned, panicking.
He didn't have time to figure out which one, the gas cloud was already getting big enough to form an ominous shadow over the stands. Soon, it would cover the whole gym.
Taking out the Vesuvius Spray-on Deodorant, he aimed the spray at the circuits, frying them and the vapor stopped spreading.
But the fumes it already released were still floating throughout the gym.
Sean looked around for an opening of any kind.
He was just about to give up and find Miss Hunt and tell her to evacuate the gym when he saw the skylight at the top.
That wouldn't work, he reasoned. Even if he could get it open, it would take a strong gust to get rid of all that tox.
Then he remembered the now empty can of Vesuvius Spray-on Deodorant and the one gadget he hadn't used yet, the Wind Tunnel 3000 Tornado Blast Hair Dryer.
"Well," he said, gripping the empty can. "Here goes nothing!"
He threw the can at the skylight window, shattering it and providing him with a chance to dispel the toxin.
Running out from behind the bleachers, Sean took the hairdryer and aimed it upwards.
When he turned it on, he was delighted to see that it lived up to its name.
A powerful whirlwind kicked up in the middle of the gym, mixing in with the tainted air and carrying it out the broken skylight where it would be dispersed by more natural wind.
By the time it was cleared, the students and faculty, unharmed but wind-swept, looked up in confusion.
Sean wiped a trickle of sweat off his forehead as he let out a sigh of relief.
"I did it," he said, hardly believing it himself. "I actually did it!"
"Well, take a good look around," a menacing voice growled from behind him. "Because that was the last thing you'll ever do!"
Sean's elation became fear as he turned around.
Mr. Gotti had regained consciousness, looking angrier than Sean had ever seen him. And considering he was angry a lot, that was saying something.
And the gun he pointed at Sean's forehead just made him seem all the more threatening.
Sean closed his eyes, and prepared to say farewell to his very short life when the sound of more guns cocking around them caused Gotti to lower his arms in disbelief.
All around them were men dressed in S.W.A.T team uniforms with the letter "W" on their uniforms.
Two of them parted, letting in a face Sean never thought he'd be happy to see.
"I hope you realize this school has a 'no weapons' policy," Jerry said as he handcuffed Gotti.
As the W.O.O.H.P agents led Gotti away, Jerry looked down at Sean, his face the picture of pride and a little bit of surprise.
"Impressive work, Sean," he congratulated.
"I didn't even know I had it in me," Sean said, still awestruck at what he had just done.
Jerry's smile turned downward slightly.
"Well, now that the threat is over," he said, outstretching his hand. "You can return the gadgets and wallet phone."
Sean widened his eyes.
"What?" he asked.
"Well, now that you've saved hundreds of lives and put the man responsible for the crime in prison, there's no need for you to carry it around. And you can go back to your normal life."
Sean took the gadgets out of his backpack and handed them to Jerry, but as he held the wallet-like device in his hand for what he assumed would be the last time, he thought of everything that had just happened.
If it wasn't for him, nearly everyone in that gym would have been dead by now. And if there were more people like Gotti out there, people might not be nearly as lucky the next time.
Then the words of Miss Hunt on the first day of the year came back to him.
You have a lot of potential, Sean. Don't waste it.
Then the words of his mother.
You can't solve all your problems by ignoring them. Sometimes, you just have to confront them.
With those words, echoing in his brain, he pulled the hand with the wallet back.
Jerry arched an eyebrow, confused.
"Actually," Sean said. "I'd kind of like to give this spy thing another try."
Jerry smiled as he and the younger boy shook hands.
"I'm glad to hear that," he responded. "We can start your training tomorrow."
Present Day
"And that's how I joined W.O.O.H.P," Sean finished, his eyes closing in fondness at the memory. "So, what did you think?"
"Um, Sean?" Sam asked from her place on the floor.
Sean opened his eyes at Sam's comment.
She was still wide awake, and having eaten most of the popcorn. Alex and Clover, however, were dead to the world on either side of her.
He could only facepalm in exasperation.
"Oh, come on!" he explained. "Was my story really that boring?!"
"I didn't think it was," Sam reassured, sitting on the couch next to him. "And neither did they."
She gestured to their two friends, who contentedly snored the afternoon away.
"But they've been awake for almost a whole day! What did you expect?"
"So, why didn't you fall asleep?" Sean asked.
Sam scoffed.
"Are you kidding me?! How could I sleep through a story like that?!"
Sean looked at her.
"You really liked it?"
Sam nodded.
"Yeah. But there's one thing I don't understand. What happened to Andrew?"
Sean crossed his legs.
"He got expelled. Apparently, he was picking on this other kid who was gay. And it got so bad, the other guy wound up in the hospital."
Sam looked shocked.
"It's alright. He lived. But he was afraid to come back to school for a while after that, even though Andrew wasn't there."
"I'm just sorry you didn't get back at that creep!" Sam said, venomously.
But Sean just smiled.
"Who do you think reported him in the first place?" he asked.
She looked at him in surprise.
"You?"
He nodded.
"I didn't want to let someone else go through what I did," he explained. "After what happened with Gotti, I just couldn't."
Sam returned his smile.
Then she did something neither expected happen.
Sean didn't quite grasp the situation until he felt her lips on his cheek.
He was speechless.
"You know," she said gently. "I thought we could only be heroes when were in 'spy mode'. But you saved someone's life without being a spy."
Once again, Sean said nothing as his face turned red.
He remained catatonic when Alex and Clover woke up.
"I haven't slept like that since kindergarten!" Alex yawned, stretching her arms out.
Then she noticed the state Sean was in.
"Uh, what's the matter with him?"
Clover took notice too, and waved her hand in front of his face repeatedly.
"Hello?!" she shouted. "Earth to Sean! Wake up!"
Sam just watched them, seeing Sean in a whole new light.
Well, now you have it. Sean's origin story was a pleasure to write. And I hope you liked the little shipping moment I threw in at the end.
See you next time!