Hi, I am already back with another chapter! Hope this chapter isn't too boring.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Sly Cooper series; they belong to Sony/Sanzaru.

The first thing Carmelita noticed upon waking was that she felt cooler than she normally did when waking up in her warm bed. She sat up and looked around only to find that she was not in her room at all. The room she was, to put it bluntly, blue. Royal blue covered the walls, bed coverings, pillows and desk seat. Speaking of the bed, while looking at the bed cover, she caught sight of herself as she looked down. Rather than her normal comfortable sleep wear of sweat pants and T-shirt, she was wearing a bright red dress, typical of 17th century women. Short-waisted with a soft, loose skirt, the gown was made of muslin and very comfortable and had a ribbon the color of red wine around the waist with lace the same color around the collar and at her sleeve cuffs*. For a short, ludicrous moment, she thought that this was a good look for her. Then the enormity of the situation hit her. Here she was in a complete stranger's room, wearing clothes that did not belong to her and she did not have a clue how she ended up in said situation.

In the midst of her growing panic, she caught site of a familiar object on the desk. A Cooper calling card sat on the desk, presumably to be used as a book mark. Carmelita's rage knew no bounds at this point. How dare that basura de baja calidad** kidnap her then strip her in such a manner! She quickly got up and, although unarmed, made her way downstairs with the intent of exacting suffering the likes of which should not be seen, especially on Christmas.

However, upon descent, she could not find any of the Cooper gang members. Where were they? Why would they kidnap her, then leave her so she could potentially give up the location of their hideout as well as many of their stolen treasures? But as she wandered through the 3-bedroom apartment, she began to notice other abnormalities. "Are these guys overly enthusiastic about Christmas or what?" She wondered as she observed garlands strung on every shelf, mistletoe and wreaths at every door, every surface covered with some sort of tinsel or garland and lots of lit candles. In their living room, she found an enormous 8-foot tall Christmas tree- seriously, these guys are good but even they would have struggled to get this monstrosity inside, not to mention lavishly decorate it as this tree was, with tinsel, garlands, real candles (fire hazards Carmelita thought privately) and what looked like a real gold star on top.

Tearing her eyes away from the tree, she noticed perhaps the strangest thing of all. There on the ground, seemed to be a small array of toy tin soldiers. Kneeling down, she noticed that one looked to be a turtle and one a hippo, eerily similar to Bentley and Murray. Strangest of all was at their head was a nutcracker that looked almost exactly like the one Sly stole the previous night. Upon closer inspection, Carmelita saw that this nutcracker was different in the face. While the one at the museum had a generic, painted face, this doll's face seemed to be an exact wooden carving of Sly's face. "Did these guys make toys of themselves to play with?" She wondered, "And why would they bring me here?". Then a horrible thought struck her. She remembered the golden dust she had been sprayed with just a few hours earlier. Had she been sprayed with a hallucinogen? She must have been because there was no way that the horrible thought she had just had could be true. There was no way that these dolls could be the actual Cooper gang? Could it?

Just then, a strange warm breeze filled the room. Flecks of the same gold dust were carried on the breeze. They twirled and spun through the air, moving towards the center of the room to form a miniature tornado. The cyclone grew brighter and brighter, forcing Carmelita to close her eyes. Once the light had died down, she opened her eyes. Where the tornado had been stood a figure she never thought she would see again after the time traveling fiasco, calmly brushing dust off his person as if he had just walked through some pollen.

There in the center of the room was none other than Tennessee Kid Cooper.

This was turning out to be one strange Christmas.