Wow, that was a long time. Now I know how cartoonists feel after they go on sabbatical. Now that my year-long break is over, time to get started.
Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.
D. H. Lawrence 1885-1930, British Author
A Doctor and His Patient
Thanks to Carmelita's speed at calling Bentley and to Sly's managing to stop most of the bleeding, Hugo managed to live through the night despite the wound to his stomach. While the jaguar slept off some of the effects of his injuries upstairs, Sly and Carmelita proceeded to call up the rest of the gang, hoping against hope that the others would be able to make it back in time.
Thanks to an abundance of funds and a couple all nighters, they were able to call back all of the old gang. Many things had changed over the last three years, but it was obvious that the important things were the same. Murray still had the look of a pro-wrestler gone superhero, his trademark red bandanna still tied around his neck. Bentley and his beloved wife Penelope were the same, with their heads either in a book or under their latest contraption.
"How's our patient?" asked Carmelita, bouncing her son on one shoulder.
"Better," answered Bentley, coming out of the makeshift operating room, "He lost a lot of blood, and I still can't figure out what made that wound, but it looks like he'll pull through."
"He's been asleep for three days," commented Sly, worried, "Shouldn't he have woken up by now?"
"I just did," came a voice of a very grumpy jaguar.
At the same moment, the entire gang turned towards the staircase, looking up at a beaten and battered black cat, wrapped in a blanket and leaning heavily on the banister. At this moment, the gang found it hard to imagine this humbled and weakened feline as the shadowy assassin that they had worked with only a few years before.
"What the hell are you doing walking!" screamed Bentley, rushing up the stairs, closely followed by Murray, "You had a hole straight through your stomach! You should be unconscious, not walking around."
"Shut up turtle," growled Hugo, "I'm a lot stronger than most. Plus, I've got my magic to seal the wound up."
"The internal damage could still . . . ," began Bentley. Suddenly, Hugo was standing in front of him, glaring angrily down at him.
"I said I was fine! Now Shut up and listen." Upon which, he promptly began to cough up blood. After several minutes of fussing and arguing, he was placed in an armchair by the Coopers' fireplace, the others seated or standing as they wished.
"Sorry. Blood loss always makes me grouchy," grunted Hugo after they'd literally forced him to sit.
"How did this happen?" asked Sly, hoping to avoid another fight between the doctor and his patient.
"Stupidity. Got ambushed by a bunch of amateurs. One got in a lucky shot. I'm sure you have the same problem with noobs who want to get a quick rep."
"But why did you come here?" clarified Sly, "I mean, there could have been over a hundred hospitals closer than we are. We're practically off the edge of the earth here." Which, of course, was fairly true. Sly and Carmelita had moved out into a cottage on a cliff overlooking the sea. Moving from Paris had been tough for both of them, but they realized that their son would need both parents around, and safe. It had taken much of their first year, but they had managed t build an underground hideout which was about triple the size of their cottage, thanks to a few of Bentley's gadgets.
"Didn't come here for me. I just got hit on the way. It's Cedric. The idiot got himself screwed over so badly not even I could bail him out."
"What happened!" shouted everyone except Carmelita, who hushed them, trying to keep her son asleep.
"He broke rule number one. Never travel through time."
