Bonjour! Hola! Guttentag! This is No Satisfaction here. It's been a loooong f***ing time since I last done anything. But alas, I have returned, hoping to claim your attention once again with my most ambitious, and probably my last (for a while), undertaking yet. Let me tell you though, you may think I won't update this one, no matter how awesome it is, but I assure you, I thought this one through. I have a stack of notes, ranging from character lists, to titles, to outlines of the actual chapters. I'm quite proud of how much I've done despite how much I must do yet. But don't worry, I will try to get as many chapters done before I must surrender my time to something else, and periodically space them out. I'm trying for a weekly update over a period of a couple of months. So please, enjoy!

Also, I better get plenty of reviews. LOTS and LOTS of reviews. Because if I'm given reason to think you don't care for my story, I'll probably stop it cold turkey. NOT!!!!

WARNING: A/U !!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Sly Cooper, nor the rights to any movies, books, and songs that have helped inspire this fic.

Birdland

Prologue

"A hand in the pocket

Fingering the steel

The pistol weighed heavy

And his heart he could feel was beating

Beating, beating, beating

Oh my love, oh my love

Oh my love, oh my love"

Exit by U2

-The Joshua Tree

"State your name"

"My name is James Henry McSweeney," said the intimidating walrus. Had it not been the softness in his gruff voice and the repentant calmness in his eyes, most of the officers guarding him would have been scared. But they knew by his looks that he would not try to escape, even though he could kill all of them, exit the building with fifteen bullet wounds and walk to the nearest bar for a pint of beer.

"You are here because you have information pertaining to this case," the leading officer, a badger, spoke, his cigar clamped between his teeth bobbing up and down with each word as if it were part of his face.

"That depends Mister Barkley," McSweeney looked straight at whom he referred to as Barkley. "I'm almost useless without fresh air and free will."

"The arrangements for your release have been made," Barkley gestured assuredly as if he were a salesman. His demeanor returned to its 'no quarter' look as he commanded, "But we have twelve dead, and a link to two possible homicides. As you can see, I want this case closed as soon as possible, and you're the only person now who can do that."

"Interesting that you're talking about the coffin, but not the body," McSweeney grumbled, a twinge of disgust in his eye. Barkley has a lot of nerve, he thought. Barkley's face turned a vibrant red, but before he could counteract the convict's statement, McSweeney began. "A deal is a deal, I'll talk."

Everyone was silent for a moment, waiting for the large walrus to start talking. Instead, McSweeney remained silent, his eyes slowly looking over the room until his gaze fell upon an unspecific spot on the two-way mirror. He knew she was there, watching him, waiting for the truth.

"But I won't do it for just the freedom," McSweeney said nonchalantly.

Barkley, as well as several other officers, gave an aggravated sigh. "Then what the hell else are you doing it for?"

McSweeney's gaze fell back on that spot on the mirror. "Her." Barkley looked surprised. "You know who I'm talking about."

And so it was time, he realized. It was now time to spill the truth, to open the poisoned stream to the public, to people who had no business dabbling with these private matters. But he would tell them for her.

"I'll tell you everything, starting from the beginning. But I'm gonna tell you right now, it began way back before any of you could have imagined…"

Paris, France. January, 2000

"Now I just want to remind everyone here what exactly we are doing," the dogmatic raccoon said, looking down the boardroom table at a series of unsavory faces. "As of today, when you so kindly walk out of my home, we will now be one…"

"Cut the bullshit Cooper!" one of them bellowed. "Get on with the rules."

"As a syndicate, everyone has a share. Everyone will know about the others' operations, at least if it will in any ways affect their own sanctity…"

"Just don't dare to double cross us Cooper!" a hollow metallic voice said. "You'd better know better that to do such an idiotic thing, and to us no less."

"Relax Metallo," Cooper smiled. "Connor Cooper is perhaps the most honest criminal you'll ever meet. I swear on my young Sly's grave."

"For the sake of you and your son, you better be right. But don't think I'm not above harming one for joking about my name. As I have warned before, you call me by my real name!"

Connor Cooper unnoticeably gulped. "Sure thing…Clockwerk."

There you go. The introduction to my new story. Hope you enjoy.