Disclaimer: Sly Cooper and all related characters are property of their owners, none of the content below is mine or sanctioned by the owners. Enjoy.

My New Shadow

I never thought in all of my life that I would need a wheelchair. Well, except that one time when I imagined living to a ripe old age of eighty, maybe retiring to a nice chรขteau and spending the rest of my life with family and visiting close friends.

There was no way in hell I thought I'd need one at the ripe young age of twenty one. I should be in a club putting a move on some young honeys...

I sighed. Yeah, that didn't even sound smooth in my own head. That was Sly's kind of thing, anyway. He could even get that Inspector to go goo-goo eyed for him. A world-class markswoman cannot hit him once? He's good, but was he that good when we were young?

Still, maybe I could put some new boosters on the wheelchair and do some cool spins on the dance floor. That might impress someone who is a bit too far into their cups.

I chuckled. Even when I was at my lowest, I could not help but think of something silly to perk myself up.

"So, you're still alive, turtle," murmured someone I never expected to hear.

I wheeled myself about on instinct, a cold feeling flooding my chest as I saw a hooded figure sitting across from me. I blinked and adjusted my glasses a few times. "Y-you...how?!"

I reached for my dart gun, but it was no where to be found. It took all of my restraint to not groan. Why would I be carrying a weapon in my inner sanctum, the home that had always been safe no matter whose toes we stepped on? Why was I dumb enough to think that no one could break into the hideout?

Why would the cockney liar who screwed everyone who trusted her over, nearly took over the world, and crippled me be sitting right across from me?

"That's right, I survived. Surprised?" the light purple tiger's asked, pulling her red hood back and revealing her features. The darker stripes of purple spaced around her body. Clean dark hair hanging freely...though a little shorter than I remember it from the surveillance photos. Those green eyes that could back up a false smile no matter what...almost looked a little tired.

There was no need to ask why she was still alive. It did not matter.

"What the hell...how'd you get in here?" I started to wheel backwards, but I quickly backed into the kitchen counter. I cursed under my breath as she started to roll forward.

"It's wheelchair accessible, Bentley. You think Interpol doesn't know some of your ciphers and codes? All I had to do was follow a bunch of crippled turtles until I found the right one, and then do a bit of guesswork with the codes based on the alarm system." The smile on her lips only gave me more to worry about. "It's kind of funny...no one ever suspects a poor wheelchair bound girl."

If she was hiding her hate, she had something really gruesome planned for me!

I grabbed the paring knife off of the counter and pointed it at her. "Get back! I don't know how you survived what we did to you, but I'll kill you if you-"

The tip of the knife was pointed right over her shoulder. If I wanted, I could dig it right into her neck right now, but...I hesitated a bit too long.

"Now now, Bentley." Neyla chastised me as she leaned forward to grab both my knife hand and wrist. "I know you aren't the killing type..."

She squeezed tightly. As much as I wanted to hurt her before she could return the favor, though, I could not make her let go by jerking and pulling with all of my might. I loosened my grip and the knife came loose.

"What do you want?" I groaned at my own weakness as she tossed the blade aside.

"I just want to ask for forgiveness," she said.

If this were any other situation, I might have laughed myself out of my chair, but I had to keep myself to a chuckle. "Are you kidding? You crawled out of that creepy bird's corpse and wheeled yourself all the way here just to apologize? Forgive me if I cannot suspend my disbelief."

She pouted, and I momentarily felt bad for scoffing at her. A world-class liar, though, could make me feel whatever she wanted. I had to steel myself and clothe myself in the armor of knowledge. The fact was that the only thing she could want was revenge.

I realized after several seconds that she thought a simple expression would change my point of view. It was a good effort, at least. "I'm still not convinced."

"But it is true. It took a lot to get it through my skull." She kept up the cute pout. "I mean, dying at least once on the operating table, ruining my whole life, alienating all of the people who thought of me as a friend or ally..."

"Crippling me." I made sure she could not run from that fact.

"And myself," she retorted.

"Fair enough. But, well...you deserve it. I don't!" I tried to muster the strength to get angry, to really get in her face, but I just didn't have it in me today.

"Yeah, I guess I have to give you that one." She put a finger to her chin, giving it a few taps. "But I'm still sorry."

The nonchalant nature of the apology did little to set me at ease, but at least she admitted that she was a monster. I decided to focus on questions that mattered a bit more. "Why do you want to be forgiven? None of that makes any sense."

"Well, it's not every day you get to see how it ends. To see yourself dying and to stop right before you get off the train...and all I saw was that bird glaring at me at the last stop."

I nodded, keeping my expression as indifferent as possible. "Ah...I understand now, having such a vivid and fearsome death dream would be enough to scare even the most hardened and vicious of criminals into attempting to reform for what causes them guilt."

Neyla nodded back.

It almost felt satisfying, like a bit of progress. Of course, I knew that the tigress across from me was just as skilled as Inspector Fox in personal combat, and twice as malicious on her nicest day. I would have to be very careful to survive this. Unlike Sly, I would not be able to fight her off...even if the odds were evened.

"Could you back up a little?" I asked, suddenly aware that she had only gotten closer. Our legs were practically touching.

"Come now, Bentley, if I meant anything ill toward you, it would have already happened," she assured me as she locked the brakes on her chair.

I tried to pull away to the right, but I ended up hitting first her chair and then the counter. Damned turning radius!

Propping herself up with her arms, she leaned over toward me. "Besides, of the Cooper gang, you're the most admirable. After all, you were the only one who could compete with me in a war of wits...who could defeat this tigress."

"Oh no...I-" And then, suddenly, I was crossing my eyes to look right at her as her lips met mine.

What the heck?

I won't say she made me stay there and do nothing, but I barely fidgeted. Her tongue work was first class...spreading warmth out from my mouth.

"What the heck?" I murmured as she relinquished her hold on my lips.

"I'll have to reevaluate my opinion of you. I thought Sly was the only member of your gang with any interesting facets...but you are just as intriguing as him," she whispered right into my mouth.

Her breath smelled like...almost like lilies. My vision started to blur, and my throat started to dry up a little bit.

My head swam as I took a shaky breath in. "You just drugged me, didn't you?"

"Yeah...kind of necessary to ensure you don't call for help." I was glad she did not apologize. It almost made me feel like she was being honest. "If it makes you feel better, I'm probably dosed as badly as you are, so we're on even odds."

"So what do you really want?" I groaned as I sank back into my wheelchair. That heat was rising throughout my body.

All I had to think about was mind over matter. If I could keep control of my mind, I would be fine.

"To see what your bedroom looks like," she said as she backed up a little, "care to show me?"

Mind over matter...

"You should leave," I muttered, trying to turn toward the phone. If I could just call some help, maybe I could hold her off until Sly came home.

She brought her hands up to her meager top, and quickly pulled it up. Two perky, partially furred breasts waited for me there. Her tight body told tales of just how in shape she was before the incident...and how many scars she had earned throughout a hard life. I could not help but stare at her headlights, however.

"You sure?" She offered, giving them a squeeze. It did not take long for me to realize that resistance was not the only thing that was hard in this situation.

Mind. Over. Matter. Sex does not rule my life.

My hands started to shake as I turned the other way, toward the hall to my bedroom.

God damn it.

"If you're going to kill me...just do it when I fall asleep. I don't want to see it coming." I shrugged as I wheeled off around the counter and down the hall.

Sometimes, I guess, a man's got to do what he's gotta do. Maybe, if I could get her to pass out first, I'd be able to call for help.

My sexual stamina, however, was hardly something to be boasted about. Knowing her, she probably read a copy of the Kama Sutra just to be able to back stab people foolish enough to fall for her feminine wiles.

I was on the bed in moments, pushing myself up into a sitting position as she crawled onto the bed to join me.

I looked at her, curiously, taking in as much as I could. Then, I was struck by an odd thought. "How is this even going to work?"

All I could imagine was a whole lot of our legs getting in the way, and maybe some clumsy bouncing from her. Still, even that was starting to seem preferable.

"Rod A, slot B, you stay down and let me do the hard work." She licked her lips and pulled herself forward, propping herself up in front of me.

I tried to hide my fear as I sweated a little. "You know, we could always just cuddle. Talk about the weather. Call the police...get mug shots together...you know...normal...first date stuff."

We shared a chuckle, though I winced when I saw that glint in her eyes. The cat was about to get the cream, and no one could stop her.

"Come a bit far for that, killer," she smiled as she sliced my shorts down the middle. I yelped and tried to pull back as I felt the tip of the claw just barely graze me.

I shuddered, feeling the pressure rise instantly. How long had it been?

"Feeling shell-shocked already?" she teased, pulling herself forward. "I'll have to thank my chemist for the 'love aid'."

As useless as my legs were, I could at least feel her pulling herself closer. This was my last chance to resist.

"Hell...let's just get this over with." I leaned back to free up my arms, reaching up to help her up and onto me.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's as good for you as it is for me." She gave a little purr as she descended onto me.

The rest...well...let it be said that the 'love aid' really did help us out. Nothing more should be written down.

Even without a photographic memory, I don't think I could ever forget the rest of that night.

Here's hoping no one finds this diary, huh?

Anyway, the next morning, I woke up alone. With a dry mouth and a sore body, I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Had the lights been on all night?

Wincing, I sat up and checked my bed just to make sure.

Thankfully, it was all empty.

"You all right?" asked a tired voice.

"I...I think I'm fine, Sly." I fumbled for a blanket to cover myself up for a moment, but sighed in relief when I felt the sheet already over me. "How'd the heist go?"

"You mean of Carmelita's heart?" The raccoon winced and pulled his cap off. "She agreed that we could have a date, but I'm still not sure if I'm going to need an escape plan."

I smiled knowingly. "I got your back, partner."

"Maybe we could make it a double date with your paramour?" He smirked. "I'm dying to meet the girl who got your spokes spinning."

"Haha...maybe. I'm not sure if that's a one night thing or not." I blushed redder than Neyla's hood, glad I somehow managed to not sputter my response.

"Think it over, buddy, I'm getting some sleep," he said as he stepped out.

"Good night, Sly." I sighed and sank back into the bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a white note with drawn purple flowers lining its edges on the nightstand.

Pulling myself over to it, I grabbed it up and laid back to read it.

Dear Bentley,

Thanks for a good time.

If you're interested, maybe we could meet again?

I'll call you.

I dropped the note.

Oh God. I had a crazy stalker...and she knew how to find me, how to get in my hideout, and how to contact me.

Only one thought was in my mind as I clapped twice to turn the lights off: what the hell do I do now?

I don't know where this story came from in my head. I think I was inspired by 'Kitty Face' (you should check that out, it's a confusing story that I don't really get, but it made me think about silly things). I also think alcohol may have had something to do with the writing of this tale. In any case, I hope someone enjoyed this or at least made it down here to read this.

Have a wonderful day.