I should probably remember to do this: I do not own Sly Cooper or any of the Sly Cooper related terms.

-1st Heist (Pt. 3)-

Kuiper was having a very bad day. It started when he blew up, but continued on when he learned he had been missing for months, discovered an ancient temple after hours of wandering the desert, lost communication with his brother as said brother searched for any leads, met a knocked-out stranger, re-knocked out said stranger because of a misunderstanding about a sex change, and was topped off by having to run from a boulder rolling at top speed after him.

Top speed, as it turned out, was faster than Kuiper could run and carry a pantsless anthropomorphic raccoon. Luckily, though, Kuiper was known for managing to keep his head in every situation:

"GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY YOU STUPID RACCOON WE'RE GOING TO DIE TOGETHER AND EVERYONE'S GOING TO THINK I'M A WOMAN!"

Or not.

Kuiper hung yet another right in the labyrinth of twists and turns, jumped over yet another pit trap, ducked to the side as a section of the ceiling collapsed, and turned yet another curve as the boulder chased mercilessly behind him. Dust stung at his eyes, but still he kept them open. Even if he did hate this guy already, even if he knew it was hopeless, even if he knew he would be remembered fondly…he refused to die in a place like here.

And there was no way in hell he would allow someone else to get hurt again.

He stumbled towards a fork in the path, not allowing for even a second of wondering, what if this goes wrong? He flung the raccoon down the right fork, fleeing himself down the left, shocked to find dust wasn't the only thing stinging in his eyes. Because if he was wrong, which was proving to be more of a common occurrence as of late, he had just killed a man so he could escape. He waited a second as the boulder approached the bend, giving a brief sigh of relief as it began tumbling after himself instead of his new ally.

"Strange," he muttered as he started, once more, into his sprint. "I never thought I'd be relieved to be running for my life…"


Inspector Carmelita Fox was ready to kill. Which, all things considered, wasn't a rare occurrence, but was still terrifying to her targets.

"You have exactly three second to explain yourselves," she hissed to Murray and Bentley, the latter of which had a sheepish smile on his face.

"Well, you see Carmelita, we think we may have found Sly," he said in his usual nasally fashion. Instantly, the inspector's face softened.

"But…that's not possible…" she said returning her pistol to its holster. "I thought that…"

"He was gone?" Murray offered, getting a scowl in return.

"In any event, how does that explain why you broke into this museum?" she asked, gesturing to the massive hole in the wall where Murray had, quite literally, busted down the door. Bentley gave a small wince, but set off into his explanation.

Sly wasn't dead, he confirmed. More accurately, Le Paradox's time machine had gone haywire in their final fight, and Sly had been sent sprawling through time while Le Paradox had escaped. This, in turn, meant that Sly had to be some time in the past, as Le Paradox's machine had not been calibrated to travel to the future. While this did limit his possible landing points, it still left a lot open to questioning. That's why Bentley had set up machines around the world that recorded any anomalies in the time-space. Unfortunately, it seemed to have been set up too late to pick anything up. However, earlier that day, a mark had appeared faintly in Egypt. Judging by the strength of the disturbance, it must have been some time when the pharaohs were in power, particularly one: Sly's ancestor, Slytunkhamen the third.

Carmelita did her best to keep up with Bentley's scientific speech, but eventually just gave up and just nodded noncommittally. She got the just of it, though: Sly was alive, and he was in ancient Egypt. And that meant he could be rescued.

"So, let me guess, you were trying to steal an ancient Egyptian artifact so you could go rescue him?" Carmelita asked after Bentley had finished. "If that's the case…" Before Murray and Bentley could ask why she trailed off, she marched over to one of the Egyptian exhibits, smashed open the glass, and reached nonchalantly into the diorama, grabbing onto a genuine sickle from the era.

"Use this," she said as Murray and Bentley tried pulling their jaws up off the floor. "It's been dated to be around Slytunkhamen's era, so it should get us exactly where we need to go."

"C-Carmelita…you just-!" Murray started, but was cut off by the vixen.

"There's no time to talk, nor to practice common decency. We need to get going, and now!"

Either out of fear or respect, Murray and Bentley decided that Carmelita was the new leader.


Kuiper wheezed unsteadily as he groped along the wall, blood spilling from a cut on his forehead. He had escaped the boulder, mercifully, but had only run into another trap that had left him must worse for wear. His right shoulder ached where the shaft of an arrow sill protruded, and his left arm hung limply at his side, refusing to respond to his commands.

"At least…" Kuiper wheezed to nobody in particular. "At least…that guy…..made….."

Kuiper collapsed to the floor, blood already starting to pool. Just before the world went black, he saw the silhouette of a pair of arms reaching out to him. He only had time to wonder if it was an angel or a demon before all thoughts of arms left his mind.

Slytunkhamen the third gazed down at the boy lying limp in his arms. It only took a single glance at the wounds to realize the boy's time was running out rapidly. One eye cracked open uncertainly, only to creak shut a second later. Three arrow shafts stuck out of the boy; one in his shoulder, on around his abdomen, and one on the left side of his waist, only narrowly missing his crotch. Slytunkhamen winced at the mere thought of how badly it would have hurt if the boy was standing only a few inches to the right…

More wounds littered his body, though. A gash above his eye oozed blood, along with another, much deeper, gash on his chin. His arm that hadn't been hit by the arrow had been torn to an almost unrecognizable hunk of meat and blood. Both legs were overall pretty okay, but there were still quite a few minor cuts that could get really nasty if infected. Which, if the absolutely shredded clothes were any indicator, was a very real threat. Overall, the kid was rather worse for wear. And that wasn't even beginning to look at the seemingly countless cuts and bruises on his torso.

The raccoon pharaoh wasn't in any major rush. He had already stolen what he had come here for, and this kid was obviously not a guard, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten so beat up. Although, he had never seen any type of animal that looked even remotely like what he was seeing now. Either way, though, Slytunkhamen figured he might as well do something to pass the time.

He set to work instantly, pulling apart his own kufiyah to form a makeshift bandage that he wrapped around the boy's shoulder after pulling the arrow out. His jacket came off next, easily long enough to wrap around Kuiper's body and arms to keep the sand and grime out, though the legs proved to be much easier than expected. The raccoon was rather familiar with this temple, having scoped it out for weeks, and knew there was a fountain only a few meters from where they were standing.

Slytunkhamen wrapped Kuiper's scarf, the only article of clothing not destroyed, around his patient's face to form a mask against the dangerous air, and effortlessly picked Kuiper up and charged off in the direction of the fountain.


"Ancient Egypt," Simon pointed to the globe as Renée struggled to keep up, "is where we have to start our search. I have reason to believe that's where Kuiper is."

"May I ask how you came to such a conclusion?" Renée asked, hands forming a tent in front of her mouth. "I understand that there's some supernatural stuff going on, but time travel? Don't you think that's a little…cliché? Like an author's way of getting their shitty self-insert to meet a main character, even though they don't even exist in the same time period?" (Author's Note: No comment.)

"It could be worse. He may have been thrown into some alternate universe where he'll instantly be liked by everyone like the Mary Sue he is. (Author's Note: Again, no comment.) And anyways, cliché or not," Simon said, eyes taking in every feature of the globe, "it's the only possible explanation now. Don't get me wrong, I didn't believe it at first, but it's not too unbelievable when you think about it. RetroCytus is known for their high tech inventions, so it's only fair to guess they may be ahead of their opponents, even on something as unbelievable as time travel."

Renée shook her head, but didn't press the issue any further. "So what do we do?"

"That's the problem," Simon said, scratching the back of his head. "Unless we find the exact same thing Kuiper found, there's no way for us to follow him. We can't even make our own time machine." Simon shook his head in annoyance. "Damn it. We're dead in the water."

"Not necessarily," Renée said. "You just said that unless we found the same tool Kuiper found, we can't follow him."

"Yeah, so?" Simon asked, looking exhausted.

"It's simple," Renée shrugged. "We break into RetroCytus again, and we find whatever Kuiper found."

Simon didn't give anything away for a long time. When he spoke, his words were carefully measured. "Renée, sweetie? That may be the most stupid and dangerous idea I've heard in my entire life."

"Do you have anything better?" Renée asked.

Simon held up a finger to argue, only to realize she was right. He didn't have any better ideas. He heaved a massive sigh and turned towards his monitor. "Get out weapons guy on the line. This time, we can't afford to be slow."


An elderly man gazed down at the chess board on a simple wooden table, deep in thought. Suddenly, he perked up as if he had realized something, only to slump over only a second later. All around him, trees were already changing color in preparation for the incoming winter. The man grunted to his associate who sat opposite himself, wearing a clean business suit and a bored expression.

"Really, grandfather," the man sighed, checking his watch. "It's been your turn for ages now. If we were playing a timed match, you would have lost long ago."

"Ah, but we aren't playing a timed match, are we?" the old man wriggled a sly finger, his expression playful. "If you aren't rushed, what's the point of doing so?"

"But I am rushed," the man said impatiently. "I have a meeting in less than an hour. And it's already obvious who's going to win."

"Is it a meeting about…?" the old man trailed off, his smile vanishing for the first time in hours. The grandson didn't respond, he merely needed to nod. "Oh, there's no need to sulk," the elder's smile broke out once more, finally making his decision with a knight that jumped over his grandson's wall of pawns. "You're getting better each time. Check, by the way."

The man smirked, knowing this tactic. "Checkmate, I believe," he said, crossing his arms. "If I take your knight with my bishop, I'll leave my king open the next turn to your queen. I can't move my king because of your rooks. If I try to take out your knight with my queen, your bishop is ready at a moment's notice. To make it simple, I've already lost."

"Oh, you're no fun," the old man said, smiling. "Not even allowing this old man the pleasure of beating his own grandson!"

"It's not exactly a rare occurrence. Now, if you'll excuse me," the smartly dressed man rose to his feet, wiping off his jacket as he stood. "I really must be going." He walked away without another word, his grandfather sighing heavily behind him. Knowing it was useless to press the man any further, the old man started packing up his set carefully into its box. As he finally set the cover on top, a fleck of snow fell on the back of his hand, making the old man smile.

"It's a little early for you, don't you think?" He gazed into the grey sky, letting out another sigh. "It's all happening so fast, don't you agree? This entire plan of theirs is just so bonkers." As he flung his bag over his shoulder, a careful listener would have heard him mutter, "Trying to connect worlds…how silly." Luckily for the old man, however, there was nobody around to hear his ramblings.


AAAND, WE'RE BACK! Updates are going to be every other week, although the exact day will vary. Just a few things to get out of the way: to the few of you actually reading this, thank you. I know this isn't exactly my most well-known work, but the fact that it's getting attention at all is rather hopeful. If you're at all interested in my stories, feel free to read them at your own discretion. If my writing style doesn't tickle your fancy, there's another author on this site, BlitzKraig, who's insanely awesome. Lastly, if you notice anything you really liked or disliked, please feel free to be as brutal as you want in your reviews.