*What? You see her? Are you sure?*

"Positive! Just look over there!"

*I see someone, but are you absolutely sure that it's Penelope?*

Bentley was growing impatient. Can't they see? It's obvious!

"I said it once and I'll say it again it's definitely-"

The figure was gone.

"Wh-where did she-"

*She must've heard us and fled, you were a bit too loud.*

He had to admit he acted a little too excited when he called them, but the distance between the hill and the building would've been enough to stifle the noise, or at least most of it. Chances are she just decided to go back inside for whatever reason.

"But she's here. She really is."

It was a dumb observation and a weird way of emphasizing what they already knew, but it was true.

*Should we get her? I'm ready to take someone down! Waiting around all day has made me really bored.*

Bentley shook his head even though the others weren't there to take the hint.

"No, we have to make a plan. We can't just waltz in there and get ourselves killed!"

*But nobody else is there! What's the big deal? There doesn't seem to be any big problem.*

He could see where this misled conclusion came from. Penelope was there and it looked as though nobody else was. There weren't even any guards or lackeys. This was both comforting with the fact that there would be need for little violence but also quite suspicious as the mouse never set up shop anywhere without at least some form of defense, she wasn't that stupid.

"The place is just too quiet. For most criminals, they often unintentionally express their confidence in the amount of security around their fortress. And since there is practically none, Penelope must either be full of herself or have something that can provide the same level of security that an entire army of goons can."

*Or maybe she came here recently, she may not have had the time to organize.*

Bentley turned his back on the building and focused his full attention on the radio.

"She has been gone for 4 months, Sly. 4 months. And even if she was just wasting her time and just arrived here, she would at least have one or two robot cronies. When you're trying to create an evil lair most people would at the very least make sure that they have a decent watch and enough power to defend themselves."

*Most people aren't evil masterminds, Bentley.*

This was getting tiresome. They needed a plan and they needed it fast. He wasn't going to wait any longer.

"You know what I mean, Sly! Can you two just listen to me? We have to get her back to jail before she tries to destroy the world a third time!"

*Bentley…*

"Can we just get this over with? I am tired of waiting! I am tired of chasing! I am tired of everything going wrong!"

*Uh..Bentley?*

"And most importantly", his voice cracked, "I'm tired of HER!"

Tears were beginning to form on the corners of his eyes, whether they were from frustration or fatigue, he didn't know or care. He was just….

He brought himself back to reality.

"Ok…I'm really sorry for that…I just…", he tried tuning the radio, "You guys were right earlier, we should go back. I'm just too tired to work properly."

The radio remained quiet.

"Guys?"

No answer.

"GUYS!"

Still no answer.

The turtle groaned.

"I said I was sorry. Please respond somehow to prove you haven't-

Static still remained the only audible noise. Bentley tried tuning the radio a bit more, tweaking the knobs back and fourth and back again. It was a relatively old radio and using it during a mission such as this was the last thing he would've wanted. However, due to an unfortunate accident involving Murray and his dinner of nacho cheese, the communicator on his binocucom was ruined, leaving him to resort to using this useless thing.

The turtle banged the radio out of frustration. It was hard enough dealing with fatigue, but it was substantially worse having to deal with fatigue with no communication in a potentially dangerous location. The thought of being alone here with that…he didn't know what to think.

Bentley scratched the back of his head. For some odd reason, he could feel that something wasn't right. It was as though he was being watched…very, very closely. If he had hair on the back of his neck, he thought, it would be standing up right now. Then he realized something. The static kinda sounded a little like voices. Very faint murmurs.

He turned the volume up.

*wwwwwwwhirrrrrentlyzzzzBentley….Bentley….*

The whispers were so inaudible that he had turn up the volume to the maximum setting, and even then it was hard to understand as the words were constantly interrupted by static.

"Sly?"

*Bentley…careful…there's…*

"What, what is it?"

*Bentley…tired to tell…but…can't…*

"Sly, please, just tell me what-"

*Bentley…. Behind you…*

...

Bentley didn't move.

Everything seemed to stop. The world seemed oh so very still. Nothing seemed to move, not even the wind and sand that kept blowing until this moment. His breath and heartbeat began to increase in pace. They were the only sound he heard in the deafening silence; a steady thump-thump thump-thump…He felt extremely numb. Cold sweat trickled down his neck and he could feel it lightly soak every scale on his skin.

He wanted to hide.

But he knew he couldn't.

His instincts were debating if he should turn around.

He knew he shouldn't. It would only make things worse.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

The turtle's head slowly but surely turned around, centimeter by centimeter, until it faced toward the building.

There, barely 2 feet behind him, a pink mouse with blond hair was crouching like a panther with some sort of futuristic gun aimed at him.

Penelope.

"Penelope," Bentley whispered.

The mouse stayed completely still.

"Penelope", he said slightly louder.

Still no answer.

The paralepegic turned his wheelchair around.

"Penelope, you weren't planning to backstab me in a more literal sense, were you?"

He knew she was, and he knew she knew it too. Or so he thought.

"Oh, so mocking me isn't enough? It's easier giving me the silent treatment?"

The mouse slightly tilted her head to the side as though to look at him better.

Bentley took a better look at her.

"I take it your old outfit doesn't suit you anymore. Not enough black for you? I knew you really like that color, but I didn't think you loved it enough to wear that color latex in a desert like this."

She tilted her head to the other side, not once looking away from Bentley who looked both anxious and amused at the same time.

"I mean look at you! You look like a cross between a motorcycle thug and cat burglar! You even covered your mouth with your old bandana! And you sprayed a smile on it…creepy, Penelope, creepy…did smiling become to hard for you too?"

She continued to remain still, like a bird waiting for its prey to come closer.

"How about you cut that out and we cut to the chase? What evil plan are you coming up with this time? You don't have Clockwerk or Le Paradox to help you now…."

The rat was as silent as ever.

This was starting to get very uncomfortable for the paraplegic.

Bentley straightened himself up.

The mouse's body twitched at his movement.

Ok, the turtle thought, now it's getting extremely weird.

Bentley scanned the area….

The mouse kept her steady gaze on him.

Bentley stretched out his left hand to the side.

She jolted and lifted her gun slightly.

He let it fall.

Her gaze followed its movement.

"Look…I'm not quite sure what's up with you, but-." Bentley peered into her dark shades, "Hello...Penelope?"

After receiving no response once again, the turtle sighed.

"You're really off your rocker, aren't you?"

The rodent cocked her gun.

In a flash, Bentley pulled out his crossbow and aimed it at her.

"Oh, so now you want to fight? Fine then we can settle this ag-' he trailed off…He became aware of a weird ringing noise. It was not unlike the whir of a computer's hardware, but it felt as though it was coming from the person in front of him. He looked at the weapon aimed at him.

It looked like it would be right at home in a sci-fi movie, specifically in some alien's stronghold. It was black and roughly the size of a rifle but substantially more bulky and curved. The weirdest thing about it though was a glowing line that ran along its sides. It seemed to gradually change color from green to yellow to…

Uh oh.

Before he could even think, Bentley jumped back out of the reach of the blaster, barely escaping the bullet of light. In retaliation he began shooting his own weapon at her with similar results. She dodged left and right and back and forth, narrowly evading his every shot. Bentley put his wheel chair on autopilot mode; he was going to need all his concentration to pull this off. He grabbed the radio and called to his friends.

"GUYS! Plan B! You know the drill!"

*Rodger Bentley…wait…what plan was that-*

Another plasma shot nearly took him down.

"THE SITTING DUCK! THE SITTING DUCK! JUST HURRY!"

...

I think I have been adding WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY to many improperly built up scenes...But what do you think?

(ps. I'll only be commenting when I deem it necessary. I find that writer descriptions, if too large, are bit annoying when it comes to fanfictions on this site. But if you think otherwise, let me know.)