So.
Recently I've taken up the change to play Sly Cooper 2, and that got me into the whole franchise again. So my little brain goes and remembers that I have a fanfic somewhere in my computer on the related topic, and I get the smart idea to go and look it over, maybe revise, and begin writing again.
Oh. My. GOD. Such a horrible, mentally scarring choise. O.O
After I got over the shock of how poorly written it was, and how much I hated writing a whole story in first person (because I've discovered, I CAN'T DO IT), the plot bunny of Sly's little sister who's favorite color was purple still was present and very much alive.
So I re-wrote the story. And it has an actual plot this time! :D
I don't know how far I'll go with this …It will probably eventually end up merging with the beginning of Sly Cooper 2, but as for the ending, or Sly 1 and/or 3, I haven't the foggiest if I'll tie those in, but chances are not. By the time I get my little girl into real international thieving, I think Sly and his gang will have already beat the Gang of Five, or whatever that's called. (doesn't own the first game, if you can't tell)
Without further ado, I give you the Silver Cane, version 2.0! (And with my disclaimer that I most definitely do not own the Cooper franchise. sigh Tears, anyone?)
My father used to say, "The value of things are seldom known until they are lost …" To be honest, I never thought much of it. (Would you if all you cared about were cookies and cop and robber games?) Life was the best it could be, and in my child's mind, nothing could change that.
Well, until that night.
Some gang broke into our home, and stole my family away from me, an irony known only to a band of thieves. All I remember was shouting and screaming, horrible crude laughter, and afterwards, silence.
Then the cops showed up.
But they couldn't do anything. Even if they had, they would have already caught the gang before they ended my parent's life, right? So they did the only thing they could do in that situation, which was lock the place up and take me to an orphanage.
Which is where my story really begins.
(--)-(--)-(--)
"Come on, come on …"
A small, lithe figure squatted by the side garden gate, which was in back of the kitchen and behind the large dusty mansion that had served as her home for the past twelve years. It appeared to be hunched over the old-fashioned lock they had chained to the iron-wrought gate, so old it had eventually slipped down to rest on the ground, losing its grip over time. Nimble fingers worked frantically, while her hooded head nervously turned every other second or so to peak over her shoulder. The Matron would be making her rounds any minute now, she just knew it, and then she'd discover one bed empty. Of course, she'd put a dummy made up of pillows and a wig she'd found in the play room, but still. Paranoia made her forget about that part.
But the muscles in her fingers remembered what to do, even if her brain was too panicky to tell them what to do correctly. Raising the last mechanism inside, the lock popped open and the startled figure let it slip from her hands and fall to the ground, making a muffled thunk on the dirt. She winced and instinctively dropped lower to the ground, eyes wary and ears alert. But nothing had heard the sound; at least, nothing that she could see. Straitening up a bit so she wouldn't practically be lying on the ground, she readjusted her pouch backpack and opened the gate just enough so she could slip through, hoping they oiled the thing regularly. Luck had decided to grace her with a smile, and only a tiny squeak betrayed her presence. She held her breath and glided through, not bothering to stick around and even close the gate before jogging off silently into the night.
She'd done it. And now it was time to go home.
Yes, I KNOW it's really short. But they will get longer. Eventually. In time. I'm freakin' working on it, ok? o.o