Sly Cooper: Vida La Carmelita

Vigo, Spain, 1st March 1999

Scarface slowly regained consciousness. His head was groggy and saw, and he could barely look straight. He tried to clean his eyes out, and hold his bleeding leg, from the newly opened cut that was bleeding heavily from his knee downwards…but he felt his arms tied back out the hole in the chair and he couldn't move them at all. He looked at his screen, on pause and then play. Carmelita could feel his fear and unease in the chair. The images played: the same as the ones Carmelita had dreamt of over the last six years. The image paused again, and now, the 19 year old Carmelita stepped into his line of vision…and Scarface whimpered a sad and pathetic noise. Carmelita stood powerful and potent, almost joyous in what she had planned. She looked at a piece of plastic lying on the desk, next to a tissue full of discharge. She read that name on it.

"So your name is…Voyra. Well that's good. I've spent the last six years calling you something else, something of a nickname from when I cut you, before you hurt me JUST as bad. So glad we're on equal terms now, it makes me feel a little better finally."

She leaned over his sweat ridden face.

"It's pointless me telling you what you did…BECAUSE YOU KNOW! DON'T YOU!"

"I-I-I think you got the wrong man…I'm just a cameraman" Voyra bluffed. This didn't work, and Carmelita's gloved fist launched out and punched the man on the good side of his face

"You yellow-bellied sick-minded no-good-for-nothing-except-dying LIAR! I know who you are – you've haunted me in my dreams long enough for me to get your face right!"

"OK then. Yes…I was a member of Mano del Diablo. I did jobs. I had no choice in most of them though"

"QUIT…LYING! You had a choice…you had a choice to leave a little 13 year old girl bullet-ridden and dying, drenched in her brother's blood with the image of her shot mother on the floor while you filmed and cackled, so you could get your satisfaction later it seems"

Carmelita pulled back from the man.

"I promise I won't kill you. No – there's enough in this room to get you life sentence upon life sentence. What I will do is make your time now really painful if you don't tell me what I want to know Voyra."

Voyra nodded and continued to whimper.

"What…what if I don't want to. You'd gain nothing from killing me, and I won't talk anyways…"

"Don't be so sure. That's a nasty looking set of wounds you have there Voyra sir. Nice and deep right – some of them I remember very well. And that Fish'N'Chips was quite tasty, but…the salt on it seems specific to anywhere other than the local chippy right?" Smiling, Carmelita placed the pot of salt onto the table, pouring a small amount into her hand. Voyra couldn't scream – his throat was too hoarse – and even if he could, the caravan had sound-proof padding all over, so no-one find out on this sick stuff before. She advanced towards him.

"Tell me about the others. Their full names, locations, etcetera. Any detail you care to say at all? Please don't be shy"

"N-No, no you witch! I know nothing!"

Carmelita took the fistful of salt, and without a flicker of resentment in her eyes, ground the salt deeply into Voyra's cut on his leg. He was writhing in agony, struggling against the pain of the salt and the bonds that held him in his seat. Finally he had enough.

"Yes, OK! I know where the Wolf is: he works on a side operation for the Diablo. He's dealing with narcotics distribution over the Mexican and Chilean boarders. He's based up in La Paz far away from anything too important."

"What his name?"

"Name is Winstone. Big brawny guy, silent talker though. We called him Hunter as a nickname"

"Last bit irrelevant, but well done" Carmelita coldly spoke.

"What about your leader – the one who really called the shots that day…Enrico, I believe?"

"I don't know where he's based. You'll find out enough about him to know if you searched him online. Name's Enrico Conte…"

"The half-Mexican, half-English gangster…yes I've heard his name spoken in hushed whispers around the Police station. Quite a fearful little Vato isn't he?"

Voyra simply nodded.

"He is" Voyra continued "Him and the Hyena are still part of the direct leadership of Mano del Diablo. You'll find them in the same spot"

"…thank you, Phantom of my dreams" She kindly spoke. Walking around to the table again, she picked up the entire pot of salt. She also took the tape of her family's execution and placed it into the CD-ROM of Voyra's laptop. Few minutes later, and the footage was successfully burned onto her own CD for safe keeping. She then advanced back towards the struggling Voyra, salt in hand.

"WAIT! I told you all I knew!" He protested.

"I know. But you killed my family, and you deserve this for that"

She took a big handful of salt and drove the salt straight into his leg, causing cries of agony from the great wimpish Tiger. Next were the cuts on his face. As soon as his scream died down, Carmelita had had enough: she'd visited the demon in her hand after so long…now she'd done enough to visit him in his dreams in return. Brandishing the Tri-pod once more, she took a series of blows across his face with it, until he was unconscious – maybe even permanently damaged.

Carmelita left the caravan, checking she wasn't being observed. She left a voice message to the ambulance on Voyra's phone, telling them he needed help. She knew that this may raise one or two alarms, but given the immense payload of other evidence in the room connecting him to Mano del Diablo, it's likely that would be the more immediate interest.

Leaving the gymnasium studios, Carmelita walked towards the car-park where she'd arranged to meet Crits with his car. The car-park was very nearly completely full, save one to maybe three spaces still left available. Crits called out to her.

"What was that all about – you've been gone for over an hour. I was thinking about leaving you after 50 minutes but knew you'd be back soon I guessed"

"I'm…sorry Crits. I just had a few troubles regarding sleep to get rid of: just spoke to the Doctor regarding a prescription. Had to find a free slot though, so it was a wait"

"OK then. I'm proud of you winning today, and I love you" Crits said as he softly yet shyly leaned in to kiss her. Just as this was going on, police sirens filled the air. Carmelita presumed they were turning up for Voyra's body, but in the distance she could see something more current to the bad situation: the mass of policemen were chasing a snake through the car-park. This snake was a large reptile – a boa-constrictor – coloured in green with single black bowtie around him, tied just behind where his head ends. Carmelita recognised him from the newspapers: Slither, weighing 200lb and being 8ft in length, wanted for GBH in Vigo and in other Spanish towns. Slither was approaching them, swiftly in-between the few gaps between cars, which the brawny, ape-like police seemed unable to get through. Slither was making good pace…until he became caught between the gang of police and an elderly goat stepping from her car. She had just enough time to look up, before the snakes body was wrapped around her. He begun a good hold her, looking up at the police and laughing.

"Hola, policías matones! Can't do a thing to do me now. You clear a way from here to the Airport, or I'll break this edad bint like a walnut!"

Slither's slippery accent, with ascending consonant sounds, only proceeded to make the goat worry harder, as she could feel the creaking sound her worn-out bones made as he squeezed her. The snake was pulling her back towards where Crits and Carmelita were stood. This was right in the direction that Slither wasn't looking. Carmelita took a lightning pace towards the snake, her fist flying out right into the back of the Boa's head. Reeling, he unwrapped himself from the goat – leaving her hard-for-breath but still alive – and turned to face her. The police readied their guns, Crits braced for something, and Slither looked ready to pounce. Carmelita's fist struck out again, and then the great snake fell, limp and loose like a broken vine from a tree. The police all looked aghast at this sight, as Carmelita just stood over the criminal, and look him straight in his unconscious eyes.

"Godammit! Had it with those damn criminals in this damn town!"

The policemen all looked up, shocked that a 19 year old girl had just taken down one of their main targets. Carmelita stood proud and pleased: proud to be a part of the police's affections, and pleased to beat the hell from yet another criminal. Next thing she knew, a camera flashed in her face.

Mexico City, Mexico, 4th March 1999

Three days after Voyra's assault, Mano del Diablo headquarters received word of his conviction. In the room stood the four most senior members of the organisation: the Hyena from the night of the Fox family execution, Winstone the wolf, a masked man – tall and slim – wearing a bullet proof vest over a regular sports vest and combat trousers and boots, with only his muscular arms and fox tail showing through the clothes, and finally there was Enrico Conte. Enrico Conte, an Iguana, stood tall and imposing, his skin a gloriously wealthy shade of purple with speckled green bits in face that looked like spots. His face was clean-shaven however which showed a necessity to avoid that unnecessary attribute to his appearance. His streamlined and slim figure that did nevertheless show a powerhouse of working muscles and strength underneath the cream suit he wore was juxtaposed by the combed back set of grey hair that sat on his head: showing age that his whole other attire didn't show. He strolled across the room like a man walking calmly and peacefully through the park, carrying a container of chicken drumsticks over to the piranha tank in the corner of the big boardroom that the group occupied. One by one, the legs fell in, and they just as quickly disappeared. One of the guards, a Bat, entered the room with both a cup of tea and a newspaper. He was running and panting and out of breath.

"Voyra's just been sentenced today!" He cried. Voyra's arrest had put the rest of the gang on high alert, but whilst the verdict was always going to be obvious, they needed to see it for themselves "2 consecutive life-sentences for all of the footage found in his caravan. They never bothered with a jury trial cos' of all the stuff they found: tissues, film reels etcetera. They knew a jury would have no sympathy for him so he went down…crying according to the drawings"

Enrico turned to this guard, and looked him in the face.

"What about the one who got him for the cops"

"Who said someone got him for the cops? Maybe the cops wised up to his antics; he wasn't a smart guy, maybe he made a mistake"

"What? Are you saying a cop would both beat up and torture a man before leaving him in agony for several minutes? You really haven't got a brain on your shoulders"

"I reject that theory…"

"Well then prove it to me please!" Enrico took the spoon from the man's tea "Display any sign of idiocy in this room again, and I will personally kill you with this spoon" His Mexican accent ascending every syllable in the English way he was brought up. He took the newspaper and read the article, reading how Voyra had taped many hours worth of footage regarding their 'jobs' and had used them after his retirement from the organisation for his own sexual gratification. "God I feel sick reading this!"

Winstone spoke up "But didn't we get any enjoyment doing that stuff to that little kid from the Spanish royalty? Or any of those robberies where everyone got shot or hurt"

"Oh yes…I loved it. But I didn't jerk off to it afterwards to get my kicks" Enrico adjusted his suit to erase the slight movement that came when he shook in anger at Voyra's behaviour. "But, never mind that documented footage of all our crimes has been found. The law is unable to issue a warrant, or threaten us: they'll have to find us first, and that's not going to happen. But whoever did Voyra was likely not police…"

The masked man walked forward with the newspaper of his own, turned to Page 4 "In other news, Slither – the GBH guy from Vigo – got taken out the same day. By a girl, would you believe it?!"

Enrico snatched the article from his hands. He read the article, and then he had a moment of realisation, and he turned to the rest with a shocked expression on his face "Slither was caught in Vigo…Voyra was beaten up in Vigo on the same day. We're dealing with a vigilante here! Whether they're going after all crooks or they have an agenda, I say this is serious…wait a minute…" He read the article on Slither's arrest. "'Slither was taken down not by police, but by Carmelita Montoya Fox, a 19 year old gymnastics champion who'd earlier won an Olympics qualifying tournament that day'" He read "Gentlemen, I think I know who it is"

"But sir…she's only a 19 year old: she won't have the first clue how to go about finding us" The guard spoke.

"Well" Enrico said "If my memory serves me correctly, that girl would've seen enough to make her angry enough for total revenge. Trust me, I know" He smiled "For the while, continue with business as normal. Winstone, keep the shipments going. Silver, you can oversee the finances for all of this – we need the boat in working order for then. Jame (referring to the Hyena)…just stay around" The Hyena slowly nodded and giggled an immature childish giggle.

Enrico then turned to the guard, and took a step closer to him, holding the spoon. The guard stopped with baited breath. Enrico struck out with the spoon low town, and the Guard whimpered but soon recomposed himself. Enrico walked away…but turned back to show the guard the bloody spoon handle that had just pierced his femoral artery. The guard then collapsed.

"On second thoughts Jame" Enrico, turning to the Hyena who was licking his lips, signalled to the guard "Have a nice dinner this evening"