Hey everyone,
Yes! Another new story! I know that you're awaiting the Extravaganza for Keyblade's Light, but my fires of interest in Harry Potter is currently quite low and almost dead when it comes to Kingdom Hearts. When it comes to Percy Jackson, does the flame reignite and die out from time to time so A Divine Hogwarts still has a chance.
Now, as for this story; the start was what kept me from writing it for quite a while as I knew what I wanted for chapter 01, but the methods of getting it done were a little unclear to me until recently. It also has SlyxCarmelita, but Carmelita – won't really be Carmelita as I want to use this story to create a new OC of my own.
Wish me luck,

Venquine1990

True Family

Ancient Egypt, 1200 BC
Sly's POV

It's been eight and a half years.

Eight and a half years since I swore to Cyrille Le Paradox that I would find him. Eight and a half years since I spoke those two simple, but meaningful words to Carmelita Fox: "I know, me too." Eight years since my Ancestor, Tennessee Kid Cooper saved both Carmelita and me from being thrown into a never ending time journey.
Since then have I been stranded in the desert of Ancient Egypt. Since then have I been working my hardest to avoid my Ancestor, Slytunkhamen the first, his scheming and his family, out of fear of causing more alterations to the timeline. Since then have I simply worked my hardest to survive each and every day.
Yet while I hope, pray and beg whatever force is willing to listen to have my friends come fetch, does waking up to a sand-drawn version of the fox of my dreams make it harder and harder for me to keep believing in that hope, those prayers and those begging pleads. Still, my loyalty to my friends has prevailed and I won't let that stop.

Of course, being the Master Thief that I am and coming from a line of Master Thieves as long as my own, means I simply can't be sitting still as doing so would probably make me the first person to ever actually die of boredom. No, I kept busy and about a year after getting stuck in the desert did I start making reputation for myself.
The silent Constable do the people of the villages where I live close-by to call me, a title that made me decide that I would return to my actual profession of being a Constable for Interpol – but then with regular meetings with my actual team – once I came back to my own time and this plan has kept me going ever since.
The most prominent reason for me wanting to retake the career that is quite the complete opposite of my family's profession is because of the same woman who's sandy picture I fall asleep next to and wake up to every morning for the last 7 years and nine months; Carmelita Montoya Fox, a creature that stole my heart upon our first meeting.
It had been the Fox that had introduced me to the life of a Constable and while it had made me completely give up on my friends, did it also give me the one chance I have wanted for since meeting the fox five years earlier; a chance to be with her and live by her side, even though she believed me to have lost my entire memory.

It had not been pretty when, a year later, the fox had discovered that I had been lying to her, even though the first month of our stay together I really had been suffering from memory loss, yet it hadn't been until I had decided to finish Le Paradox off and that Carmelita feared for me that we actually apologized to each other.
By now, am I just hoping with all that I am that the fox will remember that one moment between us when I come back to her and the time zone I belong to, yet eight and a half years of waiting does it get harder and harder for me to keep my head up high and my belief of where I truly belong as strong as when I arrived here.
And to make matters worse does it seem as if my leaps of doubt and loss of self-confidence are affecting both my physical health as well as all the abilities that I have been trying to learn and perfection since I was eighteen years old and reclaimed what is rightfully my family's heritage; the Thievius Raccoonus.

And let me tell you, the combination of those bouts and their after-effects would make anyone willing to stop hoping and to start praying and, at times, even begging with great pain and desperation as I have had to redraw the sand-picture of my beloved several times, it having become erased due to the tears I have shed.
And it's not just a drawing of the gorgeous fox that at times keeps me strong and at times brought me to tears as I also worked the last six years and actually made a perfect replica of my beloved fox out of sand, several gems I have been able to steal, odorless paint stolen from Royal painters and a few bamboo and palm tree branches.
These two have been my rock for the last eight and a half years and yet, waking up to nothing but a self-drawn picture, coming home to a motionless statue and falling asleep to that same picture after a while makes you wonder if you even deserve the chance to get back to the person you created these masterpieces out of.

By now have I left my simple little one room shack and am I strolling through the desert, my self-made robe wrapped around my entire form from the tip of my grey-furred ears down to my black-furred feet and hiding my only set of my old outfit under it; the blue shirt, hat, gloves and golden belt keeping my morals strong.
I am walking through the sandy floors of the Sahara desert, having learned pretty much come to memorize the entire north to north west to south west to south part of the desert in the years that I have travelled through it and knowing, almost by instinct, where I can be and where I can't come in case of Slytunkhamen being there.
Looking around at the desert lands, the dunes of sand and stone, the rocks that stick out here and there, the few mountains that have been made due to sandstorms pushing large formations of rocks together and the few, rare plants that grow between all of this, do I release what feels like the ten-thousandth sigh of my life as I whisper:

"I can't. I just can't take it anymore. There is only so much I can take and eight and a half years alone when you've been a team player your whole life is something I just can't take a moment longer. I just don't want to wait and see year eight come to an end. I – I just – I just – I – I just want – want to – I just want to go home!"
I shout in near desperation, not caring whether I am alone or in the middle of a crowded area, only to suddenly hear a deep baritone voice shout: "We just want to go home!" Making me look down as I had fallen to my knees and raised my face to the sky as I shouted and while I stand back up, do I whisper to myself:
"A lot can happen, but that cannot be a coincidence." And while wondering what destiny could have in store for me, do I rush for where I heard the voice coming from, the sound of multiple hooves clomping on the sand making me dive and crawl through the desert sands as I can hear that these hooves are running in circles.

I arrive at a dune overlooking the spot where I heard the voice shouting from and see two foxes, one male the other female, being surrounded by a whole troop of camels upon which several brute looking dogs are riding, the male fox being the father and the one to have shouted as he holds his little girl close to his side.
Then, while the fox defiantly glares at the one he must have shouted this at, does the large overly muscular husky that seems to be the leader of the group of criminals laugh, his voice sounding like sand scratching over stone before he says: "Forget it, my family has waited 500 years for your return and now – your treasure is ours."
These words both infuriate and confuse me and while the male fox glares at the husky and his men, do I draw my cane from my back, pulling myself up just a little and raising my arm behind me before throwing my cane, my swing causing for it to spin on its axis like a Boomerang and the golden bend top catching my target.
The front leg of one of the camels gets caught by my cane while the rest of the weapon keeps spinning and causes for the animal to trip over its own front legs, the camels running behind it not able to stop in time and causing for a mountain of animals and crooks to form in front of the terrified father and his little girl.

My cane, having unhooked itself from the camel's leg thanks to the strength of my throw, then swings itself back to my open hand and while putting it back on my back and making sure that I keep out of sight of my latest rescue targets, do I deepen the tone of my voice and shout: "Get out of here! You're safe now GO!"
And while making sure to run around the dunes that surround the two and their now unconscious or semi-conscious attackers, do I swiftly run past several other dunes and large rock formations, not really caring what happens with the two and deciding to see if anyone else in these parts of the desert needs my help.
For the rest of the day do I attack a few more men and women that obviously have the wrong intentions, save a damsel from actually being raped, find a few hidden treasures some miles away from unimportant villages and even find two incredible amber stones that, in shadowy light, look like the chocolate brown eyes of my beloved.

These last two, do I put in the front pocket of my robe, while everything else is put in the brown backpack I hide under my robe and while every now and then I felt as if I was being watched or followed, is this no new feeling for a man of my career and do I constantly make sure to quickly disperse of this feeling.
I return to my simple one-room shack and lay my backpack under the threadbare blanket that I knitted a few years ago, after heisting some fabric along with some ancient sowing equipment, before focusing on what I believe to be most important and precious to my entire house; the life-size statue of my beloved Carmelita.
I move over to where I build it, just near the sand and stone made stove that I was able to build about a few weeks after finishing the place itself, and wipe the paint out of the sand of her face before pressing the two amber gems into where her eyes are, using some black paint to make her pupils before smiling at my handiwork.

More and more over the last two years has the statue gone to look like the real deal, yet at the same time it still misses just so much; the way her eyes burn with fire when she's angry, the power with which she puts her hands on her hips, the actual determination that is shown through her form when she stands tall and proud.
None of these things can be shown through some paint or gems, even if I have been trying my hardest ever since I first build the thing and just like every other time that I've added something new and better to the statue, do I grab the set of binoculars that functions as a camera and a communication device at the same time.
I lift the device over my eyes, take a few steps back and then take a brilliant picture, feeling hurt when I see the words communication error appear on screen as they prove that the camera's ability to send my picture to Bentley is unable to function, further proof that I am much and much too far away from my best friend and brother.

I sigh at this as I put the device back in my hip pouch and mutter: "Oh Carmelita, even if it isn't really you is the visage of you the only thing that keeps me strong. Just – just a few hours ago, I was ready to give it up and throw myself into the strongest and fiercest sandstorm I could find. I was ready to just end it all, you know.
But – but I know I can't. I can't leave you behind or Bentley or Murray. I – I know it's hard but I have to keep faith. You and my friends have never let me down before and I – I know I'm making it extremely hard for Bentley to find me, seeing how hard I am trying not to end up in one of the pages of the Thievius Raccoonus."
I then smile again as I had lowered my head and closed my eyes in defeat, before I say: "But you know what, darling." And with that do I walk forward, let one of my hands go over the fur on her cheek which is made out of hard sand and mud to make sure it doesn't fall off at the slightest of touches and say:

"Just seeing you here makes it all the more worth it and makes me more than willing to wait another day." And with that do I press my lips against the rubies I used for the statue's lips, the cold feeling of these two rocks doing nothing to cool of my happiness at the fact I can at least express my love for the fox in someway.
I keep the kiss going as long as I can hold my breath and then smile at the gorgeous brown pieces of amber once again before moving over to my little self-made stove, which is pretty much just some logs with a pot hanging over it and throw in the few pieces of meat and vegetable that I was able to steal today.
Stealing food had never been something I thought I would have to resort to, but after realizing that Slytunkhamen had yet to even write the first page of the Thievius Raccoonus, did I make it part of my life here, something I still don't like, but that I also no longer feel guilty over as it's pretty much my only way to stay healthy.

I make my meal for today, all the while talking to the statue as if my beautiful vixen is in the room with me and ignore that same feeling that I felt before as I just don't believe in the chance of anyone being able to follow me to this little rundown shack or even finding it interesting enough to take a closer look.
The rest of the day passes gently and without any hassle, something I have become used to as my little shack is build a lot of miles away from pretty much all of the villages on this half of the Sahara desert and then go to bed, which is pretty much just some mud, a bit of straw, my backpack and the threadbare blanket I knitted.
I lie myself down under the threadbare blanket and gaze with great love at the statue, whispering: "Goodnight my love, I'll be home soon." Before pulling the blanket over my shoulder and lying myself down, falling asleep and once again dreaming of all the things I can do once I return home to my friends and true love.

That night
Male Fox's OC

The whole day since he saved us have my daughter and I worked our hardest to keep to the tail of the raccoon that stopped us from being robbed. The raccoon seems to have sensed us every now and then as he managed to evade us two times today, but the third time, he failed and we managed to follow him home.
Yet the home that the raccoon lives in makes the houses of Egyptian slaves look like royal palaces. Only a single room, in which the man has nothing but a cupboard, a bed made out of mud and a blanket and a statue made out of sand that apparently represents the one person – a fox – he loves with all of his being.
The raccoon spoke to the statue while he worked on his stolen meal and just the fact that this poor person, who has actually saved us, relies on stolen goods to live his life makes me make a decision that I know my daughter will support and that will make the ancestors I've learned of that lived in the 300 years before me very proud.

My daughter and I wait until the strange raccoon has fallen asleep, the fact that he tells her he'll be home soon making me wonder why he would be living in this threadbare little place if he has a home elsewhere and at the same time making me very proud of the decision I made as it collaborates with the stranger's words.
I sneak into the raccoon's house alongside my daughter, making certain to step over the small, almost invisible rope that is strung around the pathway directly in front of the door and then creep over to where the raccoon is asleep, pulling a long thin ruby red gem out of my own robe and gently lying it in the Raccoon's hand.
My daughter then moves over to the Raccoon's other side and puts both of her hands over his, her eyes focused as she had been the one to use this crystal during our journey home and while our entire treasure, that our family has earned over the last 300 years, is still outside, do neither of us care for what happens to it now.
Instead of that, does my daughter close her eyes as she focuses on the way her hand, that of the raccoon and the gem are now interlinked with each other and while her muscles are taut, proving she is ready to release the raccoon at a moment's notice, do I smile at how adapt my daughter has learned to work with the crystal's power.

"Bring this Raccoon home, bring this raccoon home, bring this Raccoon home." My daughter chants to herself, her voice echoing through the same little shack and the crystal lights up under her and the stranger's hand before to the shock of us both a blue maelstrom appears under the sleeping raccoon, making him fall.
The backpack that he hid under the blanket also falls into the vortex, but while our family's Homing Crystal gets sucked along, does the maelstrom disappear once these two items and their owner have been sucked in, making my daughter and me share a shocked look as we never experienced any magic such as this.
"Our crystal has powers unlike any we ever imagined. But – where did that Raccoon come from anyway?" I ask my daughter, now feeling sure I can talk normally seeing that our reason for muttering has vanished and my daughter shrugs before the vortex suddenly causes for one last wind to blow the blanket into her face.

This makes me want to chuckle, part of me highly amused by how – what I can only describe as – destiny wishes to repay my daughter for her wondrous deed, but then realize that my feeling might be correct as there is actually a scroll of parchment attached to the blanket's underside and I quickly pluck it off of there.
My little girl then pushes the blanket back on the ground, an annoyed look on her face that swiftly vanishes as she sees me unroll the scroll I found and while she goes to sit next to me, do I take a look at the scroll's intends, shocked beyond words to realize that it's actually a map leading all the way to the far west of Africa.

"This man lives away from home, keeps himself in a 1 room shack, saves people who can't protect themselves, lives off of stolen food and goods and travels between our great and powerful Egypt and the far west of Africa and back? Who is this person?" And then, just when I ask this question, do I see one word in the bottom corner: Cooper

READ THIS!
Wow, that went better than expected and I will very strongly admit, the father's POV was not intended when I first decided to start writing this. Also, the end part here? It's what made SLytunkhamen start the Thievius Raccoonus and what made his son create the Cooper Vault, which in recent times can be found near America.
Think about it. Slytunkhamen the second was the Founder of the Cooper Vault, but he lived in Egypt, which is in the North, North-east of Africa, while in recent times the Cooper Vault can be found near Miami, which lies to the West of Africa. So over time a part of the West of Africa must have broken off and moved to America.
Anyway, next chapter will have Sly waking up back in Paris, his hand over the Homing Crystal and how our favorite Raccoon responds to suddenly being home. And if you think I made that father and daughter fox just to have some OC's helping Sly, think again. Their family line is in direct contact – with Carmelita.
Furthermore, would I like everyone to know that, for the rest of the month, all of my stories will be on Hiatus. Not because I don't want to post anything, but because I want to do you guys a favor. Head for my account page AND VOTE MY POLL! I will keep a close eye out and on the 1st of July will I answer your prayers.
VOTE PLEASE,

Venquine1990