DISCALIMER: Shady Fetish does not own Sly Cooper and is not affiliated with Sucker Punch. She is just a fanwriter writing a fanfiction. Honest!
(The Hardest Lesson)
The thunder clapped outside and the lights flickered as a silhouette appeared in the doorway. The rain splattered loudly against the thatched roof of the Parisian tavern, making it an undesirable place to be at that night. The place was nearly empty, save for the silent bartender and a customer already at the counter.
The customer had kept trying to speak to the bartender, questioning and asking for answers. He was merely a modern wanderer—new to this city. He had repeated the same questions, asking for directions and special locations in Paris. He had still not received an answer, as the bartender diligently remained silent.
This is why his ears perked up when the door opened. The sound of the rain was momentarily amplified as a figure wearing a nearly threadbare jacket and a shadow making hat entered the tavern, his shoes tapping against the wooden floor. He shut the creaky door behind and sat down at the counter.
The greasy looking bartender stared at this new customer with his dark, beady eyes, as if he was about to beat the customer down any minute.
"Give me a pint of beer," the newbie ordered quietly. The bartender immediately fulfilled his request and shoved the tall mug over, some of the liquid spilling over the sides.
The wandered glanced at this new person. There was something rather interesting about him…His manners and the way he talked…There was something you couldn't see with just your eyes.
"So, what brings you to these parts?" the wandered asked.
"…Me?...I was on a mission. I just finished it yesterday," the other customer replied bitterly. He took a huge swig of his pint, and then glared at the dusty countertop.
"What's wrong?" The least the wanderer could do was try to figure out what was wrong with this chump.
"I've learned a lesson…you know, I don't think you'd believe anything I'd tell you. To the average person, my story just sounds farfetched." The figure reached back up towards his neck. From what the bartender and the fellow customer could see, he looked like he was untying something.
"Try me. I bet it's not as farfetched as some of my tales."
"Well…I guess it's best to start at the beginning. It all really started two years ago." The story teller paused and pulled his hands away from his neck and clenched them tight. He pulled off his hat, revealing tufts of soft gray hair. "I was fairly new to thieving. I was out for revenge—for my family's sake…I was so naïve…" His voice wavered slightly.
"Aren't we all when we're that young?" The wanderer was in his forties. It had been such a long time since he had last felt the innocence of the younger crowd.
The thief sighed and shook his head. "I suppose so. But my ignorance led to something so fatal. I should have destroyed that damn owl when I could."
"Owl?"
"Yes. Owl…a mortal enemy of my family. He had four other thieves help kill my father…" He wiped the sweat off his brow. The last day or so had been so exhausting, he hadn't had time to think any of this out.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"No, no. That's OK. Don't feel sorry for me." The wanderer cocked an eyebrow. That was not a reply you would normally get. "It happened…over ten years ago…Just when I was a child, not only did I see my father murdered, but that owl and his gang stole something very important from us."
The wanderer's mouth was agape. It was rather appalling to hear this story, coming from such a young sounding man. Even the usually stoic bartender stopped cleaning his glasses and stared at the young man. There was a brief moment of awkward silence amongst the three of them until the wanderer spoke up.
"What about your mother?" He was almost afraid to hear this answer.
"My mother? ...I can't even remember her. She disappeared when I was younger." He took another sip and then wiped his mouth off. "The police found me alone in my home…so they sent me to Happy Campers Orphanage…When I turned 18, my friends and I left the orphanage that we lived in and started our careers as thieves…We gradually made our way through the top, each heist and steal becoming easier each time…After my first few heists or so, I figured it was time I got that important…thing back."
"You went through all of the members and that owl, didn't you?"
"Of course I did. I got my revenge and I defeated that owl…but only temporarily. He claimed to be immortal and after I saw him sinking into the boiling lava of that volcano we fought in, I thought I had finally destroyed him—saved future generations of my family from the threat of…one of my family's biggest rivals…"
The thief was careful not to let any names slip, he couldn't. He couldn't tell them everything…Why was he even going on about his life story to two strangers that he didn't even know?
"Since that owl was metal, he was still alive. Even if his shell was ruined, his jealousy wasn't. Deep in that cold heart of hate, there was a spark of him still left…His metallic remains were eventually moved to a museum in Cairo, to be kept under strict security. Yet somehow, another gang got to them before my friends and I. The parts were already gone by the time I got there…And was Carmelita glad to see me. Ever since that temporary truce back at the volcano…"
Both the bartender and the wandered smiled as the young man let out a laugh for the first time that night. The thief unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a blue sweater…
"Carmelita…I assume that's a woman who's chasing you," the older customer said.
"Of course. She's a cop for Interpol who's assigned to my case…She's beautiful, intelligent, smart, clever…I'll never forget that time we danced in India…Like she'd actually fall for a thief like me though…But it can't hurt to try…"
"So what happened after you got all of the parts back?"
"Well, here's the thing. I had a majority of the parts when Carmelita's partner, Neyla, betrayed us all. I was sent with one of my friends to a prison in Prague. We did manage to escape thanks to my other friend who managed not to get captured…damn am I thankful for that brain of his…And Carmelita was captured too…and we were all freed in the end, but Carmelita had Interpol enraged at her and…well, to keep things more basic, Neyla, by the time we were nearly closer to our final destination, had fooled three factions: my gang, the gang who had stolen the owl's parts and Interpol."
"Wait, she's more than a double crosser?"
"That's right…I can't believe I trusted her…It just shows you that you can't always trust everyone in this god forsaken world...sometimes not even those close to you."
"That's true," the bartender answered, monotonously. The wanderer and the thief were both surprised as they stared at the worker…So he did talk.
"That's what you learned?" the wanderer asked politely. He was quite awed by this mysterious fellow.
"I'm getting there. In the end, Neyla had somehow become fused with the owl's main part—the hate chip. Carmelita and I both took the owl down for good, but…my friends became hurt in the process. One of my friends was so emotionally battered he could barely speak and my other friend had become crushed when trying to pull the hate chip out from the bird…He's not dead, but he's confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life…"
"I feel sorry for your friends…and you. You must have it hard," the older customer pointed out. The thief nodded, burying his face in his paws.
"It's all my fault. If I had not dragged them into this, none of this would have ever happened to them. They'd still be OK. They'd be happier without me…" He lifted his face. The bartender could only assume that the thief was wearing a frustrated glare. "And what did I learn? I learned that…life is never easy. Life is cruel. My friends and I were living the high life and we thought it'd never end, but…we hit rock bottom. Just like that."
"You finished what you set out to do, right?" The thief nodded slowly. "At least you did that."
"…You're right, but…I can't help but feel bad."
"Things will look up, kid, trust me," the wanderer said.
"…I'm sure you're right…what I learned was…so hard to accept though. I am used to having everything come easily to me. So life…this is what real life is like…"
The thief finished his pint and stood up.
"It was nice talking to you," the thief said cordially. He placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change." He then walked away towards the door, taking one last look at the wanderer…
The wanderer saw just one piercing feature from the thief…His eyes…light amber brown, they were alert, clear…They did an excellent job of hiding the sorrow that his life had contained…
The thief left the tavern, shutting the door behind once more…
And right on the counter, underneath the bill, was a black mask…
(The Authoress Has Arrived)
Okay, not my best, but it was the equivilient of a doodle, ja? Well...thanks for reading!
Shady