The Cooper Residence, 1992.

The young raccoon was excited. Today was the day he was going to inherit his family's precious book, the Thievius Raccoonus. Contained within its old and tattered pages were entries from many generations of thieves, detailing their adventures and any skills they discovered and perfected to aid their various schemes. Sylvester had heard story after story from his father, and he knew what the Cooper name stood for. The only thieving they did was from people who deserved it: corrupt individuals who earned their wealth by exploiting the poor and the unfortunate. After all, there was no fun, challenge, or honour stealing from the ordinary people who were already suffering as a result of the heinous actions of various crooks around the world; why would the Cooper family want to add to that?

At dinner, the excited raccoon cub wolfed his food down, buzzing at the prospect of finally getting his hands on the family treasure he had heard so much about. He had waited eight long years for this day, and couldn't believe it was finally here!

"Sylvester, slow down," his mother scolded. "You'll make yourself sick."

"Relax Ellie," his father laughed. "the boy's excited, and I don't blame him. I was exactly the same when I was his age." He looked over at his wife lovingly. "You can't keep worrying about him forever." He returned to his food, a piping hot lasagne, oozing with plenty of melted cheese. His wife's cooking was out of this world, he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be with a woman who accepted and embraced his family's thieving heritage. He hoped Sylvester would be as fortunate as he was in finding a partner to continue the Cooper line with, someone who would fully accept his family's heritage.

The young raccoon suddenly squeaked.

"What is it kiddo?" the man asked.

"I just remembered I drew a picture at school today!" The young raccoon beamed, before leaping down from his chair and scampering off out of the kitchen and down the hall to retrieve it from his bag. His parents watched his sudden departure, looked at each other, and laughed. Ellie looked over at her husband.

"I love you, Conner," she quietly whispered.

He reached out for her hand, and gently squeezed it. "I love you too." He then took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco, and lit it. He sucked on it a few times, savouring the burning sensation in his lungs.

The young raccoon quickly bounded back into the kitchen, a piece of paper in hand. "Look!" he yelled, waving it in front of his mother's face. She took the drawing from him and looked over it. It was a raccoon, clutching a large sack which was swung over his shoulder. The sack had 'LOOT' written across it in Sly's infant scrawl. The family's trademark cane was grasped in the raccoon's other hand. The raccoon was running away from crudely-drawn police officers, who were taking potshots at the raccoon thief. At the bottom right corner of the page, it was signed "Slyvester."

"Slyvester?" the mother queried, before handing it over to Conner.

"Oops..." the raccoon whimpered, his ears flattening against his head upon realising his spelling mistake.

"Slyvester..." Conner murmured, smoking his pipe. "Sly... Sly, that works nicely kiddo, rolls off the tongue."

"Can people call me Sly?" the raccoon chirped, ears pricked up in excitement.

"Absolutely," the man said, scooping up his son and placing him on his lap. "Sly Cooper, you are going to be the greatest thief the Cooper line has ever seen!" he said, tickling his son as he did so, the boy's giggling filling the kitchen.

His mother's warm smile suddenly fell. "Did you hear that?" Ellie suddenly asked, ears raised in alert.

"Hear what?" Conner replied, smile wiped from his face. Sly's laughter died quickly, and sat still on his father, unsure of what was happening.

"I heard a noise at the door."

"I didn't hear anything."

"I'm going to look." Ellie declared, before getting up and leaving the kitchen. Sly buried himself into his father, fearful of what was going to happen. His father reassuringly patted the boy's shoulder. Ellie darted back into the kitchen.

"Something wr-"

"Shh!" Ellie hissed. "Keep your voice down, there are people outside the house! I think they're trying to get in!"

Conner's eyes widened in panic. "How many?"

"I'm not sure, five?" Ellie's statement was answered by a sudden crash on the front door.

Conner lifted his son up as he stood from his chair, and handed him to his wife. "Take Sylvester and get out of here. I'll stop them." He dashed to the front door, where his trusty cane was sat in an umbrella stand. He slid it out of the stand, twirled it in his hand, and stepped back from the door, prepared for the intruders as they continued to bash down the door, the wood cracking with each blow.

Ellie knew there was no escape. She ran to a closet in the hallway, opened the door, and placed her son within.

"Sly, listen to me," she urged, tears flowing from her face. Accepting that this fight could end badly was difficult for the woman. The thought of never seeing her son again crushed her. "You're to stay in this closet until me or your father come to get you. You don't leave, and you don't make a sound until it's safe, okay?"

The young raccoon looked up at his mother with tears running from his eyes. He was terrified and wanted this nightmare to stop, now!

"Tell me you understand!" Ellie cried.

"I understand," Sly sniffled, wiping his nose with his hand. She gave her son a kiss on his head, before shutting the closet door. She looked at her husband, who had heard their exchange.

"Ellie, go!" the raccoon yelled.

"I'm not leaving you!"

"And I said go!" he screamed. The thought of Sly losing his mother was unbearable. He needed her to be safe so she could look after their son. "Sylvester needs you!"

Reluctantly, she retreated upstairs, into their bedroom, and locked the door behind her.

Suddenly, the front door burst open, splinters of wood flying everywhere. A large bulldog with huge, muscular arms and puny legs burst in, using his arms to move, like a gorilla. He swung a tree-trunk arm at Conner, which the raccoon nimbly dodged. Without thinking, the raccoon sprung up the bulldog's arm and brought his cane down on his head. The bulldog howled in pain and recoiled away from the raccoon.

A giant panda charged from behind the injured bulldog, and grabbed the raccoon by his throat with a large paw. Conner tried swinging his cane at the panda's head, but couldn't quite connect the blow. His swings started getting weaker, and weaker, until they stopped. The panda threw the raccoon into the floor, his cane tumbling behind him, landing on the wooden floorboards with a loud clang. His pipe, still smoking, clattered alongside the precious family heirloom.

He didn't get up.

Sly watched all of this unfold from the closet, through a tiny crack where he had opened the door. He saw another silhouette, an alligator, walk past the closet and head up the stairs.

"Find it!" a mechnical voice yelled, though Sly couldn't see who the voice belonged to. "Find the book!" The panda complied, and was joined by a frog in his search. They started destroying everything: they tore up sofa cushions, they ripped up the carpet, and they started smashing photo frames. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream was heard from upstairs, then a chilling silence. The alligator returned from upstairs, without saying anything about what had happened: she didn't need to.

"I've found it!" the frog declared, revealing the safe to his cohorts that was previously hidden behind a photograph of Sly beaming while holding his parents' hands.

"Can you open it?" the panda asked.

"Of course I can." The frog worked his magic and crack the safe open. He reached in and and grabbed the item within it. He raised it high for his companions to see. Sly couldn't believe it: they found the Thievius Raccoonus! His book! The five intruders huddled around the book, and each tore a handful of pages, until the book was stripped to its cover. The frog discarded it on the floor, and the gang made themselves scarce. One by one, they filtered out the front door, the door itself splintered and barely hanging on to its hinges.

Sly stood where he was for a few minutes, listening to the deafening silence filling the house. Slowly, he inched open the closet door, and edged out into the hallway. Broken glass, and bits of splintered wood were scattered across the length of the hallway. Silently sobbing, he made his way over to his still father.

"Daddy?" he whimpered. No response. "Daddy?!" he cried, sinking down to his father, shaking him. "Please wake up, Daddy!"

Silence.

He began weeping once the reality of what had happened began to sink in. He curled up against his father, wailing in anguish.

Then the young raccoon got up to his feet and absent-mindedly wandered to the house phone. He picked the receiver off the hook and punched in three numbers. He heard a dial tone, then another, before the line connected.

"911, what's your emergency?" a man answered in a monotone voice.

"Um..." was all Sly could muster. The man registered it was a child's voice on the other end.

"What's wrong little guy? Are your parents around?" he asked soothingly.

"They're dead." Sly replied flatly, tears streaming down his face.

10 years later, Paris, 4:20am.

It was quiet in the large city, with the exception of the whistling of the gentle breeze, and the odd dog barking. Everything was dark, with the exception of a few windows being illuminated by their occupants' decision to turn a light on. The large, round moon loomed over the city, casting its pale light across the rooftops, making the Eiffel Tower's silhouette appear dark and menacing.

On one rooftop, a raccoon with a blue shirt, hat, gloves and shoes, a red backpack, and holding a question mark-shaped cane scampered across. He effortlessly leaped down to an adjacent rooftop, landing without losing his momentum. He continued across the rooftop, only to see a chimney in his path. He couldn't afford to slow down out of fear of missing his jump. As he neared the chimney, he swung his cane, only to reduce it to a pile of bricks. With his obstruction out of the way, he did a forward somersault off the building. The wind whistled in his ears as he gracefully landed on a ledge a few metres below the rooftop he leapt off of.

Upon realising the edge was too narrow to walk along, he hastily pinned himself to the wall, before carefully side-stepping along it. Once he reached the edge of the building, he peeked around the corner to see a bright neon sign with 'Le Police' lighting up the block. With a tremendous leap, the raccoon landed on top of the sign before launching off of it onto another rooftop, which had a small watertower, and a ramp leading up to it.

Unsure of how to proceed, he pulled a small device out of his backpack and found that he was already being contacted. He answered the device.

"Sly! Come in!" a nasally voice rang out from the device. "Sly! Do you read me?" Sly winced at the volume his friend, a turtle, was yelling at.

"Yeah, I read you," the raccoon replied with a smooth, sultry voice. "Loud... and very loud."

"Sorry," the turtle said sheepishly. "I'm a little nervous. Trying to break into police headquarters does that."

"Get over it, Bentley," Sly irritably replied. "You're safe in the van. I'm the thief here. I've got to steal that file from Inspector Carmelita Fox."

"Well count on me to be your eyes and ears buddy," Bentley reassured. "Got their security system totally scoped. To get inside, you're gonna have to go through that air vent."

"Alright, I'm going in."

"And don't forget you've got me at the wheel, Sly!" Another voice chirped up through Sly's earpiece. "All you got to do is grab the file and get back to the van. We'll do the rest.

"Just keep that engine running, Murray. I'll be down in no time." And with that, the connection was cut. Sly scanned his surroundings, trying to find a way up to the elevated air vent that was across from him. And he saw it. There were a series of large television aerials across the rooftop. Sly reckoned they would take his weight. But even they were too high to jump up to. He saw a narrow ledge on the watertower, and figured he could inch himself around it without falling off.

He jumped off the platform he was stood on, and ran up the small ramp leading to the watertower. He pinned himself against the tower and moved to the right of it, ensuring his feet didn't slip. He kept moving until he reached a platform jutting away from the watertower, which was luckily within reach of the path of aerials he had decided he was going to use. He effortlessly landed on the first one, then sprung to the second, before launching again. He silently landed before the air vent Bentley had advised him to use. Unsure of how to take the vent cover off, the raccoon swung his cane, reducing it to small metal strips. He darted inside and followed it around to a small balcony within the vent system. He peered down over the railing and smirked confidently.

An intricate laser grid bounced between the walls of the shaft, all the way down. But Sly spotted a weak point- a ledge that the lasers didn't block. The raccoon stood on the railing of the balcony, and dropped down to the platform. He gazed down and saw another ledge, identical to the one he was already on. Again, it didn't have lasers near it, so the raccoon jumped again. He looked behind him and couldn't believe his luck. Yet again, another unguarded ledge. This was too easy. The raccoon hopped down again, and once more.

At the base of the vent system was a small security device, which regulated the laser grid he had just nimbly bypassed. A single swing of his cane dealt with it. The metal grate that had previously blocked Sly from entering the main building slid into the floor. Sly quickly darted inside, took a left, and another left before being greeted with a bright red door. He knew this was Inspector Fox's office. He tried tugging on the handle, only to find it wouldn't budge.

Locked, of course, he thought, scanning his surroundings to find another way in. He felt a cool breeze ruffle his fur. He turned to his right, to spy an open window. He hopped outside, and looked down the side of the building. Surprisingly, and conveniently, Sly saw that Inspector Fox had left the window to her office open.

He pressed himself against the building, and edged his way towards to the open window. Once inside, he looked around Inspector Fox's office.

The desk had many books piled on top of it, and above it were two corkboards. The one directly above the desk had a map of the world pinned to it with many pieces of string looped around thumbtacks. The board to the right was plastered with pictures of Sly. He spied another corkboard near the door to the left, covered in photos of his team mates, Bentley and Murray.

To the right of the desk, was a large, hefty vault, which also had books piled on top of it. Sly remembered the combination Bentley had told him before leaving.

The turtle was a genius, and was able to hack the combination off of the police security mainframe with ease.

Sly dialed in the code: 937. Once he was done, he turned the the safe tumbler and pulled the door open. And there it was, sitting in the vault: his police file. He scooped it out of the vault and notified his team that he had found it.

"Nice job, you got it!" Murray said enthusiastically. "If you come through the fire escape, and head through the parking lot, we'll be waiting in the getaway van."

Sly tucked the file safely into his backpack, before producing his signature calling card, and delicately placing it in the vault. He saw the open window next to the vault, leading to the fire escape. He ventured outside, only to hear a cry from a Latino voice: "Criminal!"

From the next building over, Sly watched as the voice's owner sprung into view. A fox, with long, blue hair tied into a ponytail, blue jeans, boots, and a yellow jacket glared at the young thief, to which he smiled charmingly back at her.

"You foolish raccoon!" she reprimanded. "I've caught you red-handed."

"Ahh, Carmelita, I haven't seen you since I gave you the slip in Bombay."

"Which reminds me: you need to return the Fire Stone of India to its rightful owners," she snapped.

"Awh, and I was going to give it to you as a token of my-" He quickly trailed off as he noticed how beautiful the police officer looked with the weapon she was wielding. He lifted his cane up onto his shoulder. "Hey, you know, that bazooka really brings out the colour of your eyes: very fetching," he flirted.

The Inspector took no notice of his advances. "You think?" she asked. "This pistol packs a paralysing punch. You ought to try it, much snap you out of your crime spree."

"And give up our little rendevous?"

"Plenty of time for that once you're safely behind bars."

"Love to stick around and chat, but I just dropped by to pick up this case file. I think you've had it long enough." And with that, Sly bolted down the fire escape. Carmelita, who was slow to notice his sudden attempt of escape, opened fire, sending a lethal bolt of electricity towards the raccoon. But he was too fast, already a flight below her aim. The impact of her shock pistol round caused large pieces of metal to rain on the raccoon. He increased his pace, panting harder while doing so.

He dropped down to the parking lot, and spied the blue Cooper van waiting at the exit. Sly ducked and weaved through the cars, avoiding the shots Carmelita took at him. One stray round hit a parked police car, causing it to explode into a large orange ball of flame. He slid over the bonnet of the last car, and saw the van's back doors were already open. He charged towards the van, threw himself inside and slammed the doors.

"Drive!" Bentley yelled at Murray, who floored it. The van screeched away, much to Carmelita's frustration.

"You can't escape me, raccoon!" the fox screamed into the night air. She couldn't believe it, he had escaped again!

The gang were cheering as they drove back to the train car they used as a base of operations.

"Did you see me dodge those shock rounds?" Sly exclaimed.

"It was awesome!" Murray laughed, before turning onto the dirt road that led to their hideout. "And here we are, home free!" Murray parked up and cut the engine. The three of them stepped out of the van, and were about to head inside when they noticed a shape on the step of the train car.

"What is that?" Sly whispered. "Is it a sack?"

"I'm not sure," Bentley murmured. "It might be best if we go and have a closer look." The turtle slowly inched forward, trying to determine the mysterious shape that lay there. The night lighting meant they couldn't work out what it was. Bentley was about to take another step closer, when he noticed the shape move! He yelped in surprise.

"It moved, it moved!" he cried, frantically pointing at the shape. The trio didn't dare move closer to the weird shape, and kept their distance.

"Guys, this is getting ridiculous." Sly said, clearly frustrated. "I just want to go inside, and a weird shape by the door isn't going to stop me." He marched up the the shape, and closely inspected it.

He couldn't believe what he saw.

A young rabbit, with white fur and curly brown hair. She had two piercings, a nose ring in her left nostril, and a lip ring on the right side of her lip. The metal caught the glare of the moonlight. She was wearing a pair of torn jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. She was sitting there with her sparkling blue eyes wide open, with a vacant expression.

"Guys, this is a person," Sly said. "A girl."

"Then let's bring her inside, see if we can find out who she is," Bentley instructed.

The girl sat on a chair in the hideout, not reacting to anything the gang said or did. She just stared vacantly in front of her, and said nothing.

"So, here we have someone in our hideout, who we know nothing about," Bentley grumbled, slouching over his desk. "Not to mention, we've got to go to Wales to find the first portion of the Thievius Raccoonus."

"So what do we do with her?" Murray asked, chewing a mouthful of hotdog. "We can't just leave her in the street, she looks scared."

"But we can't just babysit her either," Sly complained, pacing around the train car in frustration.

"We're not leaving her in the hideout," Bentley argued, frantically shaking his head. Who knows where this woman came from? There was no way they were going to leave a complete stranger in their home for a couple of weeks.

"So what are we supposed to do with her?" Sly said, getting visibly angrier. He wasn't going to bring a complete stranger along on their mission. The mission Sly had waited for the last ten years to begin. He wasn't going to let this girl jeopardize it.

"We bring her with us, there's plently of room in the van."

"No. Way. I am not on babysitting duty!"

"I don't need babysitting," a female voice with an English accent piped up. The three men simultaneously turned around to face her. The vacant expression she previously had was replaced by an uneasy one. She had no idea where she was, or who these people were.

"Uh... hello," Bentley nervously chirped, dropping down from his desk and slowly walking over to their guest. "My name is Bentley, and this is Sly and Murray." He gestured towards his companions. "What's your name?"

The rabbit's brown furrowed in concentration, her eyes darting to various parts of the hideout. Sly and Murray exchanged looks, wondering why it was taking so long for her to say anything.

"I don't remember."