Disclaimer: I do not own Sly Cooper. Everything Else is fictional.

The Trophy Room

A year after the honeymoon is when the whole incident began. Carmelita called me on the phone and told me Sly had been acting really sneaky. Sly will be Sly, but I decided to pay a visit and find out what had her so worked up that she couldn't handle it herself. I wish I hadn't stopped by, but I did…


"It's great that you could make it Bentley," Carmelita says as she hugs the visitor that's come to her home.

"It's good to see you too, but where's Sly?"

Mrs. Cooper turns around and walks, lost in thought. "I don't know. He hasn't come out of his trophy room since last night."

"Trophy room?"

Carmelita turns to the side so Bentley can see a black door with a gold plate on it that reads: Sly Cooper Authorization Only. "Our honeymoon was great, but as a year went by he got depressed about choosing me over his life with you and Murray. So he created a room dedicated to his work of his old life, but he's become obsessed with it."

"Well that doesn't sound like sneaky as you…"

"He also has been coming home much later than usual. Last night he came home with a horrible smell and when I told him to shower; he cussed me out and went to sleep in his trophy room."

"And he hasn't come out since, wow. What in the world happened to you Sly?"

"That's exactly what I said Bentley."

The turtle moves his wheel chair down the hall to the black door. Knock once, but no answer. Knock twice, no answer. Third time, the door opens enough for a raccoon head to pop out.

"What the hell do you want-" Sly stops and sees Bentley's face. Bam, the door closes quickly, which startles the turtle. "What are you doing here "old brains"!"

"Sly, what's gotten into you?"

Short pause, and then a big heavy sigh from the master thief that's inside the room. "I'm just very busy. I've been working really hard to make sure the memories of our time together don't go away from me."

"But Sly, they never will. Now come out and apologize to Carmelita."

"That cop? She's the worst thing that ever happened to me!"

The vixen begins to sob and she screams a word that had almost forgotten. "Ringtail!"

The turtle fixes his glasses and prepares to say words he knows he'll regret later. "You choose your life Sly! Now live with it! Get out here and apologize to your wife!"

Another pause, then another big heavy sigh from the raccoon that's inside the room. "Ok, I'm coming out."

Bentley rolls his wheelchair back and next to the angry foxes side. The master thief darts out quickly and shuts the door behind him.

"I'm sorry that I've upset you guys, I've just been really upset lately," says Sly.

"I don't need an apology Sly, but Carmelita on the other hand does," replies Bentley.

The raccoon looks up at his emotional wife and clears his throat. "I'm sorry Carmelita, I've been a really jerk. Please forgive me and accept my apologies."

"Just go take a shower," the fox hisses.

Sly exits to his bedroom, which leaves the wife and the visitor alone; only neither bothers to talk for a second. Finally the turtle is able to break the odd feelings that are floating around in the air.

"Carmelita, did you say Sly started this a whole year after the honeymoon?"

"Yes, and I wish I had put my foot down on the idea of a trophy room. It's made him more insane than anything else."

"Why don't you go into the kitchen for a minute? I want to talk to Sly personally as to what's going on? Is that okay with you?"

"Sure."

Mrs. Cooper leaves Bentley alone in the entrance hall. Wheeling down the hall to Sly's bedroom, the turtle grabs the handle, but stops. He looks around; checking to make sure no one is watching and goes over to the trophy room door. As he grabs the handle, some smell grabs Bentley by the nose and he jerks back to pinch his nostrils.

"What on earth has Sly got in there? It smells awful?" the turtle coughs, but soon the visitor can get enough strength to grab the handle only to find it won't open. "He's locked it, what are you hiding from Carmelita Sly? What are you hiding inside this "trophy room," huh?"

"Hey, what are you doing?" inquires a voice from Bentley's right.

The turtle turns to see Sly dressed up a little more casual than one would ever have seen him back in the day. "I, uh, wanted to see the cool trophies you have from our glory days?"

"Bentley, can't you read? The sign says: Sly Cooper Authorization Only. That means only I can enter the place, and I'm not going to give public tours. It's personal, ok?"

"Sorry, I just thought with it being about the times with us that you'd let an old friend like me in there."

"Sorry, I can't allow my old friends in there. It's just too important to me, plus I'm not finished yet with organizing. It's a real mess in there."

"Carmelita says you started this a year after being married, why's it not done yet?"

The master thief looks directly into Bentley's, and the visitor can see them radiate obsession of the worst kind. "You've got to take your time and make sure everything is just right. You should know that old brains."

The raccoon hears chopping and heads off towards the kitchen where his wife is making dinner. Bentley shivers in fear, but it heightens as the sound of a single key jingling; cuts in to join the sound from the kitchen. He spots a key ring around the belt loop of Sly's jeans and feels a vibe from it that tells him it's for the black door; only he doesn't like it at all.

"This is a great meatloaf dear," says a full mouth master thief.

"Thanks Sly," Carmelita replies in a soft-sad tone.

The turtle sets his glass of ice tea down and looks at his old friend. "Tell me Sly, what exactly does that trophy room supposed to be about? Like what type of memories are you talking about?"

The raccoon swallows his food and takes a drink before responding. "Nothing much really, just a whole bunch of stuff we stole way back and old photos we took."

"Where did you get this stuff Sly?"

"Our old hideout and keeping in contact with Murray, who said he had some of our old photos."

"I see; when did you last speak to Murray?"

"And when did you start going to our old hideout?"

"About a couple of months back."

Bam, Carmelita slams her fists on the table and shakes with rage. "That can't be true! All of what your saying is a lie!"

Sly scowls and snorts. "How so?"

"You haven't once told me you were going to your hideout! Nor have I heard you ever talk to your friend on the phone!"

The master thief stands up, making fists. "Did you ever think that I may have done it without wanting to disturb you?"

"Why wouldn't you let your own wife know where you were going?"

"Because he wants to get away from a life he regrets!"

"Then why did you marry me?"

"Because I loved you then!"

"And now?"

A pause, strange feelings pass into the air once more and Sly looks away. "No, not anymore."

What has Bentley done, but never the less; he attempts to break up the fight with a question. "Carmelita, the meatloaf is delicious. Where did you get the recipe?"

"My mother," the vixen replies quietly.

The master thief takes one last drink and groans. "I'll be in my trophy room."

As the raccoon exits, Carmelita breaks down and begins to sob once more. Bentley rolls over to Carmelita's side, giving her a handkerchief.

"It's my fault for asking Carmelita, I'm sorry," says the visitor.

"No, it's his fault for starting this, what the hell is he hiding?" replies Mrs. Cooper.

"I don't know, but I'll find out. I'm worried as much as you are. Go get some sleep while I attempt to talk to Sly, and figure out what's going on."

Bentley helps the beautiful lady to her room and once she's inside; he wheels to black door and pounds on it. "Sly, open up! We need to talk!"

"Go away Bentley! Now's not a good time to be disturbing me!"

"Are you drinking?"

"No, I'm working to finish up the project I should've finished long ago!"

"What the hell are you working on?"

"Something made me happier than anything in a whole year!"

"Forget the past Sly, and live in the future!"

"All I have to do is add the final trophy to my room!"

"Sly, what collection could be more important than your relationship with Carmelita?"

"What could be more important is my relationship with my friends from the past! I don't want to loose it all! I need to make sure it's with me always!"

"Open the door right now! Show me what's more precious than your relationship with your wife!"


The only key to the room slides out from under the door and Bentley unlocks the trophy room door. As he grabs the doorknob he smells it again, the strange odor from earlier in the day. Despite the smell he pushes forward to open the door and he finds that the room holds what Sly had said, yet something feels off.

"The room isn't junky, but I can still smell something horrible," the visitor looks to his upper right, seeing a big barrel. He moves towards it, and lifts the lid; whipping his head back. "My god, it smells like melted flesh."

However, the smell is only the tip of the iceberg for this turtle. To his right is a small closet and as Bentley opens it, he falls out of his wheel chair in horror. Inside the storage space, Sly cries silently in between two corpses: One of a turtle and the other a hippo, both wearing clothing of a team that had once been.

Carmelita had Sly put away, and visits him in hopes he'll forget the past. For the sake of our friendship, I broke all contact with him and I had Murray do the same after revealing what I found. Sly is one of my best friends, but if his anxiety about losing our friendship is so high that he'd commit horrible action, which result in getting bodies and dressing them up as us-then I can't be his friend anymore and neither should Murray for the broken master thief's sake.

Sly isn't the type of guy to kill people, but where did he get the bodies? And why did he have a barrel full of melted flesh? I can only say that the barrel must've been ideas he saw were wrong and he did his best to melt them away. As to where he got the corpses, I don't think anyone will know until his mind snaps out of the thought of wanting to live in the past. I feel sorry for Carmelita because she's waiting on someone that's stuck in times that'll never exist again.