Running Like Clockwerk

A Sly Cooper fan-fiction written by Airo Smicktor

Disclaimer: The following story is a piece of fan-fiction that features many of the characters that have featured in the Sly Cooper and the Thievius Raccoonus/Sly Racoon computer game. These characters are property of, and either trademarks or registered trademarks of Sucker Punch. I do not claim any ownership over these characters or the computer games they are featured in. I, Airo Smicktor, do however claim ownership of this fan-fiction; it's title, the subsequent chapters of it, and the name Airo Smicktor. I do however claim full ownership of my character Douglas Smicktor, who features in this story.

Please also be aware that this fan-fiction is no representation of the characters used in it. They are being placed in fictitious circumstances and situations, which would never occur in the actual computer games series, and their actions are only based on my own personal views on what characters would do in these positions. That is why this is called a fan-fiction: It is a made-up story written by a fan of the characters used in it, which is just expressing his enjoyment of the characters used.

By choosing to view this fan-fiction, you agree that you will not remove or edit any part or this entire story and then claim that it is your own work. Such stealing is damaging to the truthful internet fans who love reading original works featuring well-known characters, and is much like stealing someone's writing in real life and publishing it yourself. You also agree that you understand that there is no serious or intentional breach of copyright occurring here. Besides, you are the one who choose to view this, I did not send it to you, so if I am 'breaking the law', so are you my friend! By viewing this fan-fic, you also agree that if the time comes, you will have to pledge ever-lasting allegiances to Airo Smicktor in his take-over of the world, that or just lend him the bus fare home if he takes over. When did I start talking in third-person? Sorry, that last couple of lines didn't mean anything; I just wanted to reward anyone who read this with some random humour. Feel honoured. Anyway, by viewing this, you agree that you understand the difference between fact and fiction, and you understand the events that occur here will not occur in the actual computer game or in real life. I cannot be held reasonable if you cannot tell that difference.

Author's Comments: Douglas Smicktor is a young fox that works for money as a 'recovery expert', with no fixed abode. For the past 6 months, he's been carrying out a strange string of jobs of a mysterious employer, no questions asked. When he's told to meet his boss, he finds himself caught up in a battle between Sly Cooper, the Police, and the world's biggest crime syndicate. Douglas has gotten himself in deep without knowing it, can he escape what he's become, or does he want to escape?

Prologue – Another Textbook Job

Location: The rooftops of Paris, France, Eastern Europe.
Time: 23:32
Weather Conditions: Cloudy sky, Quarter Moon.

"COOPER!" Sly heard her scream out again, above the sounds of the energy blasts crashing off the rooftops around him.

'She really doesn't give up! Thank god her aim hasn't gotten any better!' Sly thought, sliding down a telephone cable, looking over his shoulder at the chasing Fox, who was leaping over the gaps he had done with ease 'Damn, how much of her spare time does she spend training?'

"Sly? SLY?" Shouted a worried voice through Sly's hidden radio in his hat.
"Quit screaming Bentley! I'm fine, and I've got the stuff..." Sly glanced at the bag slung over his shoulder, "...are you guys in position?"
"Yes! Murray's got the van ready to go, but what's...?"

BLAM!

Another shot slammed into the wall Sly had just slid past, causing Sly to instinctively jump down from the wire into the dark alleyway below.

"If I said Fox would it make you feel better?" Sly replied, with his usual dry wit and humour.
"Sly! You said you promised that you wouldn't get caught!"
"Well chalk up liar as another of my crimes then, I'll bet at the van before you guys know it..." Sly mused, looking towards the dim streetlights of another street that this alley led to...

"NOT SO FAST COOPER!" Carmelita screamed again, firing some more shots blindly down into the unlit alley. She landed with Olympic-like grace onto the hard concrete, and looked around for her criminal target. All she saw was the steam coming up from the shots she'd just fired. He'd vanished, but how?

"I know that you're around here somewhere Cooper..." She said, pointing her gun towards the exit of the alleyway that led to a dimly lit street. "...This time you can't run from the law..." She clicked the dial of the gun, setting it to 'high-stun' and placing her finger on the well-used trigger. Sly Cooper was hers this time; there would be no mistake or slip-ups. She could sense him, she could feel him. He was close. He was near. He was... Behind her?

In one swift motion, Carmelita spun around one hundred and eighty degrees, bringing her gun up to her head as she spun, before lowering it back down and firing it as the turn was completed.

CRACK!

A loud splintering sound was heard as a cloud of smoke rose up from the darkness. Carmelita had certainly hit something. She pulled a torch out of her pocket, and flashed it on, pointing it towards where she'd fired. There was something strangely thin lying on the floor. The Inspector moved forward, cautiously, to investigate. She stood over it, her face turned into an angry snarl. She was looking down at a broken cardboard replica of Sly Cooper. She'd been tricked again. She screamed out in frustration, while bringing her boot firmly down onto the smiling face on the decoy. A smile almost as big as the one on the real Cooper's face at the same moment.

"I told you Bent, you worry too much! It was another textbook job" Sly said, putting his 'swag' bag down, taking a seat in the back of the van.
"Maybe I do Sly, but that was very close that time..." Bentley said back, trying to be as stern as he could, looking over at the racoon while sitting in the front passenger seat.
"It was nothing! Besides, I got to use Sir Andrew Cooper's Thief Replica Technique didn't I?" Sly smiled, removing his trademark cap and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"You sure did Sly!" Murray said, driving the van away out of the dark back streets of the city, heading for their secret hideout.
"Well... As long as you're not hurt..." Bentley half-mumbled under his breath, turning back to look at the road.

'Always the worry-guts...' Sly thought, looking at his turtle friend. 'Still, it's been another successful night of thieving, and I got to have some fun with Fox on the side. Things can't possibly go wrong now!'

Little did Sly know how wrong he was.

Location: A dimly light street in Paris, France, Eastern Europe.
Time: 23:34
Weather Conditions: Cloudy sky, Quarter Moon.

Carmelita stormed out of the dark alley, leaving behind the smashed decoy of Sly behind her, almost running into a hunched beggar. She didn't even notice the fox, which was dragging a shopping cart behind him, which was full of all manner of clothes and old cushions, as she headed off back to her police car. He stopped pulling his cart to watch the female walk of angrily out of the street. The fox, who had a long and dirty brown beard, a long tattered rain-coat which looked as if it was barely buttoned up securely, and a similarly looking fisherman's hat. If you saw him, you'd say he certainly looked like a man down on his luck. Which was good, since it meant his disguise was working.

'Blimey... What's eating her?' He thought, as he continued to drag the cart along behind him, knowing that his destination was just up ahead. He was glad this was nearly done, these old clothes were beginning to itch a little, plus it wasn't fun to drag this shopping cart with him, but it had to be done, it was for the good of the mission. If he wanted pay, he had to do this. He knew his employers were very strict about the jobs that they gave him, whoever they were.

The 'beggar' turned a corner into an unlit alley, before turning again but into a small courtyard area, lit only by a tiny light-bulb above a door. The 'beggar' smiled, looking up at the first-floor window in the building the door was the back entrance, moving the shopping cart into position inline with the window. Thank god his employers had supplied this 'especially designed' cart (as they'd described it) for this mission, otherwise it would be too difficult a job, even for him.

He pulled off the tattered gloves he had previously worn, before reaching down into the clothes in the cart. He took out a small packet, which he opened up. He looked at the surgical gloves inside and smirked. He put a pair on; he didn't want to leave any fingerprints, as usual. With the gloves securely on, he pulled out a bunch of keys from his pocket, holding the keys up to his green eyes and selecting a key, before smiling. He carefully walked up to the door, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. The door unlocked. He opened it up, placing the keys back into his pocket and pulling out a black, thin object from the other, before stepping inside. Undefended, just as they'd said.

'The smash part of this job's gonna be easy...' He thought, as he carefully walked through the darkness of the empty room, allowing his developed senses to guide him. He stepped slowly over the wooden floorboards, cautiously feeling out with his free hand, the other gripping the weapon, poised to strike out in an eventually of any surprises. He felt a square like shape with his hand. It felt wooden through his thin plastic glove, as he felt along the shape. It had a little round ball on top. This was the start of a wooden staircase, one that would lead to his objective if his employers were correct, which they had a strange record of being. Without hesitating anymore, he began walking up the stairs.

Looking up, he saw a thick metal door, with a flicker of light coming from the small gap between the bottom of the door and the floor.

'I guess the old man is up past his bedtime'. The 'beggar' thought, walking up towards the door, now confident enough not to care if anyone heard him. He held the slick up in his hand, and used it to hammer on the door. A deadly silence followed. A mumbling. Some shuffling feet, the slow footsteps moving towards the door. It opened, and the 'beggar' looked down at an old grey lizard, which was dressed up in an old fashioned nightshirt (that kind worn by Scrooge in those films at Christmas).

"Who... Who ze 'ell ar' you?" He asked in a strong French accent.
"You do not know who I am?" The 'beggar' replied in a raspy voice
"Non."
"Good." He replied in a sinister tone, sharply bringing the stick around. The old man looked in horror as the last sight he saw before slipping into unconsciousness what that of a black nightstick.

WHACK!

THUD!

The beggar smirked an evil grin as he looked down at the limp form of the man.

"...The name's Douglas by the way..."

Douglas stepped over the motionless body, looking at the room. There was a table in the centre of the room, and a bed against the furthest away wall. There were also various other items, a bookcase, a record player, and some curtains... He headed over to the curtains of the room and pulling them apart. The shopping cart was there, silently waiting. Douglas smashed the window with his nightstick, sending shards of glass down into the yard below. Douglas looked around, and saw the medium sized safe in the corner. The far corner of the room to the window.

"Damn!" Douglas said, in his normal voice. Douglas turned the table over with force, sending the various items on it scattering onto the floor, as the table collided with the wall next to the bed, splintering it. "It's your own fault for not having a better room..." Douglas sneered down at the old man, lying face down in the floor. Douglas gripped a hold of the safe, preparing to drag it across the room. Positioning himself, he pushed his feet into the floor, pulling the safe forwards. Douglas fell onto his backside, holding the safe high up in his arms as he lied on his back. The safe was the normal size for any, but it seemed light as a feather...

"What the hell is this?" Douglas said, putting down the safe next to the window. "The thing's about as heavy as mail sack..." He looked over at the remains of the table he had broken earlier. "Guess that wasn't needed..." He said in mock-remorse for his actions. "...Meh, who am I kidding? This place needs redecorating anyway! The can afford a damn metal door can't he?" Douglas then picked up the safe, lifting it up to the windowsill. He looked around the safe, looking at the cart below. A safe this size would be no problem to send down into it...

"Hang on..." Douglas thought out loud, "If things so light, why don't I just carry this down the stairs? It'd be a piece of cake to walk down the stairs with this baby in my arms... Nah, I've broken the window, so I might as well use it..." Douglas reasoned, pushing the safe out the window, watching it land safely in the cart below. "...Who the hell am I talking to anyway? Damn it, ever since these weirdoes sent me on these errands..."

Douglas walked out the door, back into the courtyard, pulling his gloves off and putting the tattered ones back on, before covering up the safe with some of the clothes in the cart. Douglas began pushing the cart out of the area, back into the main street he'd travelled up. He noticed that he had to use a bit of his strength to push the cart now.

'When the hell did this safe start getting so heavy?' He thought, moving slowly down the dim street, as he struggled slightly against the increased weight in the cart.

Location: The Police car park outside the Police HQ in Paris, France, Eastern Europe.
Time: 23:58
Weather Conditions: Cloudy sky, Quarter Moon.

'That damn Cooper! This will be the last time that he gets away from me!' Carmelita thought to her self, stepping out of her police car, preparing to head up to her office, when a young pig police officer came running out of the station with what appeared to be a fax in his hand.

"What's the rush Officer?" Carmelita shouted over to the excited looking man.
"A break in at a retired jeweller's home! They took the whole safe, I'm just on my to check it out Ma'am!" The officer said, saluting.
"...Carry on." Carmelita replied, not caring, as she walked into the station as the man got into his own car.

'Rookies...' She thought, 'They're never given anything interesting...'

Location: An abandoned warehouse by the Docks in Paris, France, Eastern Europe.
Time: 00:00
Weather Conditions: Cloudy sky, Quarter Moon.

Douglas pushed the cart into the centre of the warehouse, before throwing his hat off to the ground, swiping the sweat of his purple brow.

'By all that's unholy... Why the hell do I get these messed up jobs?' He thought, looking around the empty warehouse. "...Guess I'm early or something..." Douglas' ears pricked up, as heard the churning of iron doors being moved. He turned his head to look at the source of the sound...

FLASH!

Two bright headlights turned on, as Douglas shielded his eyes, his vision impaired by the light.

"It's okay boys, it's our man!" A familiar arrogant voice called out, as the headlights dimmed to a less bright beam.
"Do you ALWAYS have to do that?" Douglas shouted rubbing his eyes to regain his vision.
"But of course, we can never be too careful, especially in Paris..." Douglas looked at the speaker. He was a rat of black fur, brown eyes, which wore a finely designed suit and black shoes. He carried a silver revolver in his left hand.

"...Always with that gun eh Jason?" Douglas smirked, his vision returned.
"Of course Mr. Smicktor. I assume you have the...?"

Douglas pulled the clothes of the safe.

"Ah! How could I ever doubt you?" Jason said, smiling warm smile, putting his gun away. Well, as warm a smile as someone that corrupt could manage.
"You always seem to find a way..." Douglas replied, pulling off his false beard along with the rest of his 'beggar' disguise.
"I assume that you're glad to be rid of that particular disguise I take it?" The rat said, raising an eyebrow at Douglas' sudden movements.
"Itched to high hell, and it didn't help my clothes underneath..."

"Any problems?"
"Just some old guy..."
"He was dealt with?"
"He met my good friend here..." Douglas said, pulling out his nightstick and holding up as he pulled the keys out of the other pocket of the coat.

"...Why?"
"...He was using up my oxygen?" Douglas sarcastically replied as he put his items into the back pockets of the jeans he had worn underneath the disguise; the tone of his voice indicating that he was really saying: 'Do I need a reason?'

Jason laughed. "Ah, that familiar 'mean-streak' of yours, the one that so attracted the attentions of my bosses..."
Douglas smirked, standing up, now clad in jeans and a T-shirt. "So you tell me..."
"Get this stuff in the van, including the disguise!" Jason called out, still looking at Douglas.

Two smaller rats, dressed in boiler suits rushed up, and gathered up the discarded clothes, putting them in the cart, before pushing it, with even more difficulty that Douglas had, towards the van they had jumped out of.

"What the heck's with that thing anyway?" Douglas said, pointing at the safe, partially covered with clothing.
Jason shook a finger at Douglas. "You'll find out in a few days Mr. Smicktor." He said, smirking.
'Just like always...' Douglas thought in the back of his mind.
"Until then..." Jason continued, pulling a plump-looking brown envelope out of his suit pocket, and tossing it towards Douglas, who caught it with ease. "This is your payment."

The fox smiled. "Right, I'll be off then..." And with that said, he headed out of the warehouse, pleased with his mission.
'Just another textbook job...' He thought to himself, heading out of the docks, towards his current home.

Jason smirked as he watched the fox leave.
'Oh yes, he will make a fine addition, just as predicted...' He thought. 'Who knows how high he could go in the ranks...'

And with that, he turned around and walked over to the van, climbing into the driver's seat, shifting the gear-stick into reverse, and moving the van out of the warehouse as the two rats closed the doors shut. There was no trace left of any meeting, and no sign that there ever would be again. The warehouse was once again silent, with only the light from the moon shining through the broken glass of the windows being the only sign of life...

Confusing isn't it? Well, that's the way I've got it planned out, but it starts to make sence chapter by chapter, so you'll find out a bit more about Jason and Douglas later. Don't worry about the old guy, he'd not dead. Not that I plan for him to ever reappear. Anyway, this is my attempt at adding to Sly fandom, so comments are greatly wanted. Please review and let me know how I'm doing please, and I'll have the next chapter up soon enough.