The Thief and I

by CreativeRaccoon

In a far-flung corner of the globe, a diabolical countdown has been set in motion. A great and terrible weapon is poised to strike. So the labyrinthine machination shall unwind, inexorably leading its unwitting contender to a shocking revelation. Seven days on the clock, and the game is afoot. The world will be watching.

10. Chapter 9 - Taking the Plunge

Chapter Nine: Taking the Plunge.

Note: Sorry this took a bit longer than expected, but hopefully other chapters will stay consistent. Chapters after this will appear every two weeks or so.

Sly rubbed his temple thoughtfully. Five minutes after Bentley's call had cut out he had been forced to except that he may be on his own for at least a few hours. He also had to except that once she picked up the trail again; Carmelita would be hot on his heels. He would have to be very succinct to ensure the whole endeavour didn't fail before it had been barely completed. He also had the itching suspicion that Raleigh may even now know he was there. He thought it best to get moving, not knowing what tricks the slippery amphibian might try to pull-time to get to work. Sly turned towards his current goal.

His desire right at that moment was opposite him. It was to retrieve a key which was enclosed in an electronic force field. When Bentley had mentioned them once before to him, he had guessed they would be scattered about the island, as an added security measure. They were probably also needed to access many parts of the inner workings of the storm machine, that Raleigh wouldn't want being messed around with. His whole operation was balanced on the workings if the storm machine. And Sly's aim was to bring it crashing down. But he needed that first key.

It had a rather bizarre appearance. It had a length of fifteen centimetres and a width of five centimetres. It was made entirely out of platinum steel and along the blade of the key stretched a jagged looking serrated edge. The head of the key grip was sculpted in blue metals to look like the giant, bobbled hat that Raleigh had worn on his statues. A single opal gleamed from the hilt of the grip. Whatever locks the key opened, it looked as being a very big one; another gesture by the fiend to create grandeur and superiority. Clearly he didn't trust normal, everyday security as the key was about five times bigger than any other he had seen. Oh well, Sly thought; expensive taste or not, it won't be there much longer.

He gazed at the waterwheels churning beneath his feet. This time there would be no trouble. After his last experience he knew to tread very carefully when you were in a villain's lair. Inching forwards cautiously and stealthily, Sly placed his blue-booted feet on the edge of the first wheel. The surface was splintered and chaffed which provided him with plenty of grip. Securing his footing, Sly leapt across it like a sparrow and spun neatly onto the second wheel. Again the same feeling met his feet and he skipped lightly across, landing on the last waterwheel. All was still going well when Sly noticed a large clump of seaweed that had been drawn up from the water and been stuck to the wheel. He was too late to stop himself and his right foot collided with the slippery clump. His torso fell forwards as he was tripped up and by swinging his arms out in front of him wildly, he managed to propel himself forwards. Using the momentum of his swing, Sly managed to hurl himself onto the lip of the grassy ledge and he clung there, shivering slightly in the breeze.

After a second or two, Sly managed to push his body up onto the bank and was able to look around him. The waterwheels went on churning behind him, but the bunch of seaweed had become unstuck and fallen with a splosh into the water. Amused at his being tripped up by a weed, Sly returned his attention to the key hovering before him-it sat innocently in the air, as if calling out to him and tempting him to take it. But Sly knew better than to just try and take the key. Earlier on, when he was deciphering the clue bottles, he had noticed a red and white stripped voltage box bolted onto the cliffs above. The black cords trailing from it led back to the copper key holder. Anyone attempting to reach through that would instantly receive a paralysing shock of ten-thousand volts up their arm. That was not an option. Sly would just have to be patient and think up his own solution, this time without Bentley's helpful guidance. He sat back to ponder the question and as such never noticed the security camera monitoring his movements from a crack in the rock.

#

Bentley sat hunched up beside Murray on the wet grass, rain pattering off his glasses and running down his nose. Murray didn't look much better than Bentley and his ears were drooping, as if he felt cold. But Bentley knew that was not because of cold, but because they could no longer watch out for Sly. After the last Binoc-u-com communication Bentley had made with him, Interpol had arrived on the scene. Rather than fight, because they wished to show, according to Bentley anyway, that they weren't lawless thugs like the Fiendish Five, they had allowed themselves to be marched from the van and handcuffed beside it.

Several officers had made them squat on the grass while three more stood guard over them with pistols. Another six were inspecting the contents of the van and the final three were carefully inspecting the surrounding area. Only two members of the party were not doing the same. One of them was Inspector Fox, who was in deep conversation with a fellow officer. He looked important because he had a platinum gold badge pinned to his lapel. He was probably a sergeant. Murray also recognised him as the Labrador from the computer scan. From the conversation going on between the two of them, Bentley and Murray had gathered his name was Higgins.

Then as if sensing what they were thinking, the pair broke off, and the Labrador, turning away from Carmelita, marched over to Bentley and Murray. With a subtle wave of his hand to the officers they dispersed and allowed him to stand before them. The two friends glanced up at him. Higgins did not really cut an imposing figure for an officer. He looked about twenty-three years old with a billowing straw coloured moustache. He had thick eyebrows that hung down over his eyes and long, droopy ears. He wore a navy blue cap on his head and a navy blue shirt and a pair of trousers held up with a brown belt. A pair of handcuffs and a ring of keys jangled at his waist. On his feet he wore leather shoes with neatly and tightly knotted laces. His shirt was short-sleeved and he had muscled looking, lean arms. His whole demeanour and appearance was immaculate. He clearly wanted to make an impression. When he finally spoke it was with an English accent rather than the usual French.

"So you two are the infamous Bentley and Murray are you?" Higgins asked. "Where is your friend Cooper? We know for a fact that the Cooper gang is a threesome, not a pair." Even though his voice was business like Bentley at least thought he sounded authoritarian.

"Yes, you are right Sergeant," replied Bentley, "The Cooper gang is indeed a threesome. But Sly is not here as he has important matters to tend to himself. I'm afraid he really cannot waist time in the fashion we are now."

"Wasting time indeed," muttered Higgins, "Capturing the Cooper gang is really top priority for Interpol right now. As for wasting your time I can hardly see that as being relevant."
"I'm afraid it is retorted," Bentley retorted calmly, "For I believe we can work together on our common goal can we not? After all, you too are after the Fiendish Five. If you allowed us to be freed it would really be more fruitful as our intentions are currently nothing more than honourable. Robbing from criminals is not the kind of crime I would personally consider to be dishonourable. We have only allowed ourselves to be captured so as to show you this."

"Honourable indeed," said Higgins, beginning to repeat his words, "Thieves are thieves I'm sorry mister Bentley, but we really cannot consider such an option. Interpol shall be quite capable of dealing with this independently. But I assure you that my comrade Miss Fox shall see to your incarceration. Interpol respects those who claim to do well in the world."
"Then we could prove our intentions," Bentley said, getting slightly annoyed, "If you would just let us go. We both know Higgins that right at this moment Sly is in the bows of that madman Sir Raleigh's fortress putting himself in who knows what danger to bring down that criminal we all despise. Banding together would be far more sensible - then we could go our separate ways without need of any further conflict."

"It doesn't work that way," said Higgins, "You three are still thieves and, as Miss Fox rightly says, still need to be put behind bars. It is my duty to see to that and I would be breaking my oath to law work not to do so."

"But rules were made to be broken," Murray butted in, "You could do that much more good in the world, as we know you wish to by temporarily putting aside your duties and doing what you know to be right. Just because we are thieves Sergeant, it doesn't mean we are without motivation. Sly's parents died at the hands of these criminals and we are not allowed justice? That cannot be deemed as a fair world you are fighting for just because we had to make our lives as thieves."

"I, well," stuttered Higgins, "I didn't mean, well I guess when you put it that way. But still, the world is an unfair and saddened place. Not everyone can receive justice in this time. I should know that well. After all, my parents were killed a decade ago by these very same criminals. I to must fight against them and bring them down-it is the only way I can avenge them. I deeply sympathise with your friend but I'm afraid I cannot help you. I must do what is best for the rest of the world."

"I had no idea," murmured Bentley. "This is why you are here now Higgins? Like Sly you fight against the Fiendish Five to stop them doing to others what they did to you? But do you not feel noble doing that? Can you not guess how Sly feels?"

"I certainly do," Higgins whispered, "But I must stand by Carmelita and Interpol. Cooper would do well not to fight, but to come quietly. I cannot abandon my mission."
"Then I am afraid we have come to a stalemate," said Bentley, "Like you Higgins, I remain loyal to my close friends and I will not allow Sly to be thwarted in his endeavour just because he is what he is destined to be. I look out for and protect what is dear to me also. If we cannot agree upon mutual terms, then I am afraid we shall have to part ways as unlikely allies. I ask you to reconsider your decision but we will not sit here to be torn away from our ambitions. That is all I have to say."

"I admire your loyalty and bravery," Higgins said, "I am sorry that this is how we have to part but that is the way of it. If you are to escape, I feel it only fair to say that we shall not give up on you. If being a thief is the path you choose, then we remain as opposites."

"I am a thief because I choose to be," said Bentley, "I chose the best option ever available to me and my friends. We never had many options, similar to you. We made our lives as best for ourselves as we could and I continue to stand by that. I respect that that is your ambition if you respect mine. I am sure that in this final word we can gain a mutual understanding of each other. At least take this thought away with you."

"I agree to that," said Higgins, "And I can see you will a worthy opponent. I will enter into that mutual respect as it is the best I feel I can do to understand you. I wish I could do more to help. I promise to remember that, should we ever to meet again face to face. If there ever is time we can assist each other then I shall do so. I will not be heartless to those who ache with pain the same as I do. When you next see your companion, please tell him this."

"Thankyou Sergeant," said Bentley, "Should we ever meet again under different circumstances, I too promise to honour our bargain. Sharing your heart-ache with others who also need to share theirs will ultimately lead to a better future for all of us. So long Sergeant, and good luck in your endeavour-our combined endeavour."

"Thank you," said Higgins, "I appreciate your understanding as well - so long." Then as he was about to turn away he swivelled back around and added a final word-"Bentley." Then he turned back around again and walked away briskly, not turning back. As the officers resumed their positions, Bentley thought he might have seen Higgins blink back a tear. But he was gone before he saw anything more.

Bentley stared wonderingly after him, trying to fathom what he had just said. He hoped Higgins would sincerely keep the promise. But somehow he knew that he would not break it. He had sensed an inner struggle occurring inside the man and he knew that he shared pain similar to the three of them. Like it or not, it was almost as if the four of them were in it together, on opposite sides of a schism. The sergeant was not all that he pretended to be. He had an inkling suspicion that the same could be said for Carmelita.

To Bentley it felt as if there was a secret reason for her close attachments to Sly. It had to be because she in turn shared form of inner pain that she struggled with. Undeniably, somewhere at the end of it all she would reveal her true colours. Bentley thought that she would somehow end up assisting them right at Sly's most difficult point. There was another reason for her being there. She too was part of the journey they had begun and would eventually contribute to making the world a better place. It was not even four, but five who would eventually make the life changing journey to defeat the Fiendish Five. How life changing it would be for some of them, he could never guess.

#

Carmelita had stood by curiously observing the conversion between Higgins, Bentley and Murray. At first when she had seen them marched out of the van and handcuffed together, it had seemed routine and just what she expected. But she was curious as to the feeling she got that the pair had almost willingly allowed themselves to be caught. It didn't seem normal compared to the other braggarts she had dealt with for most of her career. There was something more, something almost understandable about these three. Deep inside her she knew that they held pain like hers. Despite herself she could not help but sympathise with them. They were a family, loyal to each other. They stuck together to the very end and had made the best of what they had. She admired their diligence. They remained loyal friends throughout it all. That was one thing she had never been able to say about herself since the death of her parents. She had never truly had friends.

Surrounded by the harsh world of the criminal element she was alone. As much as she knew she must remain loyal to her duty, she somehow longed to help them and do what she could to lift them from the darkness that surrounded their lives. She smiled and patted her shock pistol. There was one way that could be done. Ensure the Fiendish Five were put behind bars. Capturing Sly was no longer what she strived to do but merely just what she had to do. She had a duty but she could assist Cooper in whatever way possible. If she eventually put him behind bars, it would please Inspector Barkley as much as herself. Maybe she could make him see sense and eventually change him. End the feud between them across the opposite sides they shared. But until that time, he was a thief and she was an Inspector. She would fulfil her duty to capture him until that day.

#

Sly thought deeply about the problem that faced him. That of retrieving the first key that would allow him access to Raleigh's inner sanctum. Although no longer worried about Bentley and Murray, he knew he would have to avoid being captured by Interpol for the sake of the mission, until he had all the pages. Deciding to get his thoughts going, Sly paced across the small ledge, tapping his thigh with a forefinger, thinking deeply and thoughtfully. The only conceivable way to bring down the laser field was to cut off the voltage box. But as that was about five metres above him, it was not really an option. Getting to it risked falling several metres to hard stone and water below. He could break several bones and Bentley would never forgive him. There simply had to be another way. Then as if a light bulb had bloomed above his head, an idea came to him.

He crouched down, resting on all fours, and, almost slithering like a snake on his blue gloved limbs, crawled across the grassy ground. His snuffling snout raked the ground ahead of him as he crawled and a faint smell of electricity mixed with the salty sea air filled his nose. The taste of it rested on his tongue and it had a distinct flavour of tangy bitterness mixed with the tastes of copper and steel. A vague humming of a current passing along a wire could be heard closer to the base of the stand. Pushing himself upwards on his elbows while remaining close to the ground, Sly leant forward to examine the copper base. Twelve bolts lined the lower lip of the dish and a coil of copper curled around it at the top, ceiling the stand to its base. The humming sound emanated from beneath the copper base-a buzzing twang of electricity. The generator that channelled power to the stand above it seemed to be concealed in the base. Destroying or defusing the device would give him access to the key and give no need to disable the voltage box. Now he had to decide the safest and most efficient way to get at the device without risking a dangerous electrical overload. He would have to put on Bentley's thinking cap once again.

Then the simplest possible idea came to him. Why not just go for the good old simple plan of smash and grab? He looked down at the cane in his hand as he stood up and he thought. It seemed sensible enough. Just one quick smash with the cane and he could jump clear without risking any form of repercussion. After all, the cane had already been used effectively against Raleigh's security alarms. Why not just go for simplicity instead of worrying about complications? Not every obstacle had to be a mind bending puzzle. Now he thought about it, without extra security the whole concept seemed like a rather gaping flaw in the design. He just supposed Raleigh would have thought him to cautious for a reckless action such as this. And if it worked it would make retrieving any of the other keys far easier. Yes, Raleigh had overestimated his so called 'tight security'. Well he was about to be proved wrong completely.

Readying himself in case of any electrical sparking, Sly razed the cane like a light sabre in his right hand, for he was right handed; clenched between his forefinger, index finger and thumb. Poising his body for a sharp blow to the copper base, Sly swung his tail aside so as it would not get singed. Feeling his heart pulsing against his chest, Sly raised the cane high above his head and held it there, suspended in mid-air. Then he narrowed his eyes and brought it down with a cracking swing. He just glimpsed his anthropomorphic frame reflected in the copper surface before contact with the cane sent a jagged crack skittering all along its length. Instantly the reflection disappeared and the surface became opaque, completely fractured with cracks. The whole stand groaned and sagged slightly, and to Sly's excitement he saw the laser shield shiver and flitter as the dish wobbled to the left side.
But it soon flickered back again, the now feeble electrical current buzzing loudly through the contorted wires.

Taking in the twisted frame of the stand, which looked something like a tangled puppet, Sly bought his cane about again for another blow; as of yet no electrical sparks had flared from the half revealed generator box encased in the base. The second wack proved too much for the copper construction and a tearing sound rent the air as it contorted further towards a twisted shape like that of a puppet. Again the laser shield shivered but when it finally flickered off, the nodes supporting it sparked and then fizzled out, each shorting into silence with an electrical pop.

With the shield down and the generator damaged beyond repair, the whole construction shuddered creakily and then came crashing down upon the lawn. Several filaments, wires and copper strands cracked and fell from the stand, rolling away along the grass; the dish supporting the key was now completely loose and slid free of the stand. As it crashed to the lawn, it to span away and the key was flung free, landing in a moist fern sprouting by the crevice. The remains of the construction crumpled over, ejecting a puff of grainy black smoke from the circuits, and collapsed entirely, looking like nothing more than a pile of rubbish. Giving a final dismissive glance to the miserable pile of dejected metal, Sly raced past it to retrieve the key: one step closer to Raleigh's blimp and the storm machine's destruction.

Sly leaned over to peer down at the key lying quite dejectedly in the wet centre of the fern. Free of its grand, throne like stand it looked like nothing more than an over flamboyant truncate somebody had dropped. In Raleigh's case, that was really what it was. Sly crouched down and parted the fronds of the fern. Then seizing the key by the blue grip he plucked it from the plant. He tossed it once in the air in a kind of light-hearted celebration before he caught it again and tucked it into his belt. It nestled snugly beside his pouch. Then he turned to his right, leaving his back to the compound and crumpled stand, and stared into the dimness of the yawning crack in front of him. Although he could see along most of its length it was still quite dark and murky.

More moss and lichen rolled down the rocks in strangely geometric patterns and several small stones and pebbles littered the path. Some lanterns seemed to be jammed into cracks in the cliffs at regular intervals, but they were not alight, just dim and lifeless. Maybe once he found out what the first key was for he could activate them. Anything would make navigating easier as he was already soaking wet and dripping from the torrential downpour of rain. It was already hard enough to see. He also thought he could just see that the cliffs twisted off to the left, creating a hazardous bend in the path. He wouldn't want to run into that in the semi-darkness.

Immediately, as if someone had read his mind, a wave of luminescent green light washed over him. The whole clearing was suddenly filled with a blazing brightness of green that lit up not only what was behind him, but the entire length of the crevice beyond it. Sly swung around to look for the source of the sudden brightness, worried that Interpol had caught up with him at last. But he was surprised to found that nobody stood before him-nobody was even in sight except for the unconscious walrus. Then he looked above him. His nose pointed to the air Sly could just see a large ball of glowing green luminescence hovering above the isle, about fifty metres up in the air. A trail of wispy smoke snaked through the air to the spot the light now floated at and this told Sly what he saw. It must have been the flare or flares to mark important locations Murray had mentioned the last time they had talked.

He could see that the trail of smoke came from over a rise of cliffs that pointed back towards the promontory, where Bentley and Murray were now presumably in the custody of Interpol. Bentley must have set up one of his many remote controlled vehicles to send out the flare in case of any disturbance to their communications. Bentley had done his job well - Sly could now see that the flare floated just above the crevice he stood before, where he now knew he must go. He intended to move quickly so that he could return and free his friends as quick as time would allow. He would not leave them behind.

Passing beneath the flare now hovering high in the sky, Sly strolled up to the mouth of the crevice and without even a brief hesitation now, plunged into it. Immediately some of the light was cut off but much of the green aura still remained enough to light his way from the crack that ran through the rocks ten metres above. The green light flickered and reflected in strange patterns off the opaque glass lanterns, creating ghostly images. These didn't worry Sly however as he was used to operating in dark places. For a minute or so he continued along the winding rocky trail until he turned another corner. Returning his attention fully to the path ahead of him, Sly stopped suddenly, skidding on the wet grass. The gate he had long suspected to come now appeared before him.

Although it wasn't huge like the other security gates, it was quite big enough to hinder his way in such a narrow space. It was six feet high, moulded of more burnished metal and about four feet wide, hugging the walls of the cliffs. Like a cork in a bottle it neatly plugged up his way forwards. A heavy metal padlock suspended on thick chains hung over the centre of the gate where the two spindle like grates split to allow passers through. Some barbed and twisted wire ran along the top and trailed down the bars of the gate, deterring any forced entrance. Another copper wire trailed from the end coil of barbed wire to run several metres up the cliffs to another red striped voltage box. Maybe the lights were hooked up to the gate. Or maybe it was just another trap laid by Raleigh. Anyway, he would soon see. If he didn't get out of the crevice soon it might flood from the storm of rain and he would drown: another cunning trap? He made a mental note to learn the basic swimming strokes, because he hadn't yet learnt the basics of swimming, as he wrenched the key from his belt.

While he attempted to slot the key into the heavy padlock, Sly was still unaware that another security camera slotted neatly into the stones observed his progress.

#

On the monitor side of the device Sir Raleigh was still fuming and plotting against Sly, aghast that he had managed the capture of his first treasure key! It was absolutely preposterous. How had the insolent boy managed to steal his precious artefact? Both ways it was a desperate situation and he had to do something about it. He had seen the flare go up and he now guessed that Copper was making his way along the secret passage, in position of the first key which would allow him to pass through! Very soon he would be onboard the boat. The only bright side was that at least Copper's companions had been captured by the Interpol scum.

At least the rats had been good for one thing. Dealing with a single member of the infamous Cooper gang would be far easier. From what the leader had told him, Sly Cooper was a serious threat to the whole organisation and was not to be underestimated. Raleigh would not, must not fail. He knew of the possible consequences if he allowed Cooper to escape. That would not happen. Once Cooper arrived on his boat, he would have a few surprises for him. He wouldn't be getting his hands on any more of the pages from the blasted book or any more of his treasure keys. His loyal guards would see to that. And once he was introduced to his new ally, Raleigh was confident he would succeed. There was no cause to worry.

#

Sly raised the steel key to his gaze and examined it. The serrated edge designed to fit the unique curvature of the lock glinted and reflected the faint green light of the flare above. It looked more like an absurdly ornate treasure than an item with any practical function. Still, it would serve his purpose. Leaning forwards, Sly rested a hand on the rocks to steady him and neatly slotted the tip of the key into the opening in the heavy lock. Without really even a slight push it sunk in easily, pushing itself into the heart of the metal. Nothing could now be seen of it except the handle protruding outwards. Applying a liberal amount of pressure to the handle, Sly turned the key to the right, counter-clockwise, and it suddenly spun loosely and tore itself from his grip. Sly's eyes followed the dizzying path of the key as it spun in several loops around the slot in the lock.

Eventually, after several seconds, it stopped turning and with a gentle clicking sound slid from the lock, landing on Sly's boot. Quickly he snatched it up again, as it would probably be useful later on, and straightened up, this time slipping it in with his Aunt's papers in his pack. The oversized loop of steel holding the lock onto the chains now hung open, swinging in the slight breeze. With a sharp prod from Sly it shook and fell with a resounding thud, which echoed of the chasm walls, and hit the grass. With nothing holding them in place the chains immediately uncoiled like several angered serpents and slithered from the bars to land next to the lock with another thump. Stepping over the pool of metal, Sly gently pushed the gate with his glove, the green light floating above him.

The halves swung inwards silently and came to rest on the rock walls. A small shower of limestone dust rained down from the cliffs as the small vibration shook free the loose granules. Brushing the grains out of his eyes and from the brim of his cap, Sly made to move forwards, beyond the gate and around the next corner of the crevice. But as he was about to make his move, a series of electrical buzzing sounds occurred all at once. He turned back to the gate to see a bright blue electric current surging down the barbed wires of the fence and make contact with the cord trailing upwards to the voltage box. Clearly he had also activated some kind of electrical circuit as he entered - not quite the trap he had suspected.

The current continued surging along until it met the underside of the voltage box and disappeared into a series of wires underneath it. There were a few crackling sounds and then a small, red light on the box flashed into life, mixing weirdly with the green light above. Another series of buzzing noises sounded and these were followed by the sound of mechanical whirring. Then as if they had been waiting for that moment, each lantern mounted metres above his head sprang into life and slowly creaked upwards, pointing towards the sky above. Finally another clicking noise completed the cycle and each light flashed on, sending a powerful shower of light across the path, illuminating it even more thoroughly than the flare, mingling strangely with the green luminescence. Sly grinned-Raleigh must have created the system so he and his henchman could easily pass through. Now it would do the same for Sly. His journey was now just that bit easier.

Giving the intricate system of glowing circuitry a second appreciative glance, Sly smiled slightly and turned back to the passage beyond him. All along its length, yellow rays bathed the cliffs and rocks, giving it an almost cheery feeling compared to the sombre and moody darkness of before. The sudden brightness was almost blinding compared to the dimness he had been used to. Briefly, he brushed his right hand behind him and through the many layered contents of his pack, quickly assuring he had returned the key safely to his keeping. It still lay comfortably nestled in amongst his other documents, safe and sound. Content with the verdict, Sly retracted his hand and straightened out, stretching his limbs and giving a quite yawn. Shaking himself out fully, Sly appreciated what a difficult night it had been - and there were still many challenges ahead of him. Raleigh was surely now conspiring against him right this minute, somehow watching him and monitoring his moves.

The slippery amphibian was not to be trusted. He would be highly unpredictable.

Keeping this in mind, Sly quickly checked himself over, looking for scrapes and bruises-there were none - and made certain that all his gear was secure and in place. It all was. He had his cane gripped firmly in hand. His Aunt's papers were safely in his pack. Once he had a few minutes to learn those skills he would be just that bit closer to unlocking more of his family's secrets. Eventually he hoped to know every skill they presented to him. He was ready to go. Sly gave the area a full three-sixty glance, watching for any hazards, and then he set his jaw firmly, readying himself for the plunge. He dived between the cliffs.

The slighter denseness of the shadows in the narrow portion of the canyon engulfed him, as if long and spindly fingers were encircling him in their grip. With the minimal lighting here, even with the lamps and Bentley's flare, Sly doubted that any devices that Raleigh might now be using to monitor him would really be of any use. It was just about to dim to make out anything clearly. Still, he didn't want to give Raleigh any excuse to survey his movements for too long. He couldn't afford for the plan to go awry. He started forwards again and stretched out his fingers in the darkness, feeling along for the craggy, moss covered sides of the cliffs.

His hands met with the moist surface and he continued to follow the line of rock, so he would not suddenly run into any walls. The nearest lantern now sat high above him, its gleaming shine barely reaching the floor of the canyon. A few times Sly caught his foot on a stone or pebble and stumbled, letting out a fluent torrent of incoherent words in French. Sly occasionally liked to do this for the amusement of it, since they could all speak it fluently anyway.

He continued cautiously, letting his instincts and his sniffling nose lead the way. Finally, after several rain swept and miserable seconds, Sly found the path opening up again and the crevice was once again bathed in light, though this time by the silver rays of the moon. He had travelled far enough that he had left the lanterns and the flare behind, concealed beyond the stones of the cliffs. It didn't matter now anyway, he could see now by the moonlight on its own. He liked that-a thief only needing to rely on his own cunning. But as he was commending himself for his growing understanding of his family's skills, he found himself hitting a large object that spanned the width of the path. The side of his face grinded briefly off of the surface before he sprung back – then collapsed in a heap onto the gravel path. He had just collided and run into a rock wall.

Picking himself up again and shaking his head, Sly shook of the dizzy feeling garnered from his sudden collision and glanced in front of him to see what he had hit. He was amazed he had managed to run into any obstacle. But he now saw how it had happened. Although the path had originally seemed like it might have been roughly cut by machine, it now looked as if it was actually a naturally created fissure in the limestone, gouged over centuries into the surface by wind and rain. Raleigh had just taken advantage of the natural occurrence and suited it to his purposes.

The obstacle that stood before him was a small ledge of darkened limestone, clay and sand, tightly packed together and over-flowing with darkish green moss. A natural rise in the surface of the chasm followed on from the crown of the ledge and continued snaking its way along the canyon floor. What had seemingly happened was that the earlier section of the path had been worn down at a faster rate, thus creating the dip in the path and the sudden ledge. He supposed the original path had been positioned on a bank of softly packed clay or sand, which was why it had eroded so easily compared to the section of the path before him. The foundations it rested on looked as hard as granite.

Presently, Sly shook himself from his reverie of examining the marvels of geology and thought hard. For the past ten minutes he had begun to think alarmingly like Bentley and he didn't want to become too much like his friend-a thief couldn't afford to be distracted on the field. He would leave the intelligence work to Bentley. He scanned over the cleft of stone and noted that it was only about two metres high-only a little lower than himself as he was a little over six-feet tall. He could relatively easily hoist himself over the ledge with his arms and feet, maybe even use the cane to hook onto something. But he didn't favour the idea - it was just too clumsy for his taste and he thought a thief should look more elegant or practiced where possible. Choosing rather not to dent his family pride, Sly set about thinking up another way. Then he had an idea once again.

His family could help him once more. Excitedly he slipped his pack from his shoulders and swung it onto a nearby rock. Flicking back the latch and opening the top of it he plunged his hand into its depths and rummaged around momentarily before extracting the papers scripted with his Aunt's dive roll technique. He rifled through the three worn parchment slips and eventually found that the second piece of yellowed parchment boosted a description of the technique in crammed, but neat, curly writing in faded black ink. Dropping the other two sections of paper safely back into his pack, Sly leaned forwards and attempted to decipher the writing.

The lettering boosted a description of how the move was carried out and how it did and would look. It also described how it felt to undertake the move and how it could be learnt. Seemingly, from some more of the writing on the upper half of the parchment, his Aunt had perfected the move while plundering valuable gems from mines and other open-cut areas in Ireland, which had previously been annexed by greedy and thieving crooks and vagabonds. She had used the move to swiftly and silently traverse the rocks and tunnels of the mines as well as the streets and rooftops of buildings. It was a fast and effective way to travel.

A faded and worn illustration of his Aunt, in what looked like graphite pencil, surmounted the upper corner of the page. She had a slim and flowing physique like most of the Cooper family and Sly himself. She had an elegant, hour-glass type figure and an enormous bushy tail that flowed onwards and ended with a delicate curl. She also had a long neck, luxuriant eye-brows and large ears like sails. Over her startlingly blue eyes she wore a black cloth like Sly and a small, black nose poked from under it. Lastly she had a tremendous mane of ginger hair which flowed in curling locks from the top of her head down to her hips.

The picture was completed by a few minute freckles that speckled themselves over her visage. Like Sly, she too was attired in a tight fitting tunic that accentuated her body and gave her an almost regal look. She looked almost disarmingly beautiful, but cunning. Somewhat like Carmelita-that somehow didn't seem a coincidence. Sly thought about Carmelita so much now that practically everything he looked upon reminded him of her. He desired to have her company all the more but knew that he mustn't dwell on it. He would get back onto his present task.

Just as he was turning back to the text on the page, Sly noted a second and smaller picture of his aunt. This time it was in a faded form of black and white print, seemingly captured by an old-fashioned flash camera. Although the image pinned to the paper was now rather opaque and worn, Sly could still easily make out the image captured within it. His Aunt was depicted in what was seemingly the midst of a leap or roll between two roof tops over a packed street below. She was pin wheeling over a frayed rope like a ballerina on a stage. Apparently she carried her own personal photographer. But that was not the strange thing about the picture. Just above where someone had inked in the dates and the name Helen Eliza Cooper, a small anomaly appeared.

It was a brief shadow, a ragged shape that seemed to be soaring through the sky some distance behind his Aunt- which she hadn't seemingly noticed. It had an almost eagle like appearance. It somehow seemed out of place. Sly had remembered reading up in one of Bentley's text books on Eurasian eagle owls-this shadow looked somewhat similar. But how could it be? Eagle owls were never known to be found in Ireland. Sly felt something vaguely disconcerting nibble at the back of his mind. He felt sure that the symbol meant something. It had some sinister purpose. Eventually he would have to find out the significance. But for now he returned to his task.

After several minutes of mumbling the technique and rehearsing the moves in his head, Sly opened his eyes and cleared his mind, ready to finally tackle it. Once more he quickly ran the woods of his Aunt through his head before lowering the paper and returning it to his back-pack. He closed the latch and secured it on the rock. Then he turned back towards the ledge of limestone and closed his eyes, mumbling the words again to himself. He flexed his whole body and ripples of calm emanated down his limbs and all along his stripped tail. He felt his body readying itself, as if coiling up like a spring, readying to take the plunge. Gradually he leant forwards and stretched his fingers outwards, as if feeling for the objects that lay before him. Once he felt like he had extended himself far enough, he ceased his footing on the hard rock and let his body go.

It was an amazing, almost astonishingly alarming sensation. He felt his whole body pitch forwards and upwards, his feet flipping up and pointing towards the darkened sky. He felt himself pick up speed as the wind began to rush past him and howl in his ears. Then another feeling took over; wonderful feeling of serenity and smoothness that washed entirely over his body. He finally opened his eyes. His own body, indeed the whole world around him was a blur of colour and sound. He could barely make out anything on either side of him except indistinct shapes and colours and yet, inexplicably, he was able to see ahead of him as clear as anything, a sort of image in his mind. It seemed that being in his present state of mind created this. He could only imagine what he looked like-a rolling blur travelling at tremendous speed.

He imagined it was like doing many, many somersaults hundreds of times over. No wonder his Aunt had chosen to optimise the technique of dive rolling - it was fantastically illuminating and fulfilling, not to mention efficient. Travelling as a speeding ball of energetic colour he was virtually soundless and silent. He grinned and then whooped with the sound bouncing off of the canyon walls as he realised what he had just accomplished; the very first of his family's ancient skills he had once been destined to learn-from the very pages of the Thievious Raccoonus itself! He was once again fulfilling his destiny.

Realising he would have to return his mind to the mission, despite the exciting prospect of his recent accomplishment, Sly closed his eyes again and calmed himself down, slowly releasing his energy. Gradually, as he felt his body relaxing and calming down, he slowed and came to a gentle stop where he found himself flipping right side up and standing neatly on his own two blue-booted feet. He had carried the move through with perfect succinctness and prowess - if only his father had been able to see him perfecting the move years before: he would have been proud that his own son was continuing his legacy. Sly's prowess had probably been boosted by these strong memories. This ability to feel for others and yet not entirely cling onto the past had given Sly the chance at his potential. He now felt his mind and body gradually opening up to a larger prospect - the world seemed just that little brighter and more sparkling, more wondrous. The night somehow didn't seem so dark. Sly smiled encouragingly to himself and with one more silent whoop of delight, he made to scoop up his pack and continue on his way.

As he was thinking merrily of how he would attempt to use the move again at a later date, along with any of the other skills he eventually hoped to learn, Sly glimpsed from the corner of his eye that a strange golden light seemed to be emanating from underneath the flap of his pack. Frowning slightly he swung it over onto his right shoulder and pushed back the latch again. But when he opened it and flicked back the flap, all he could see was his Aunt's papers, sitting innocently and unassumingly atop the Interpol file. He could not see where the mysterious glow of gold had come from. Slightly mystified by the momentary occurrence, Sly shrugged his shoulders and closed his pack, swinging it back over his shoulders and trying to push the happening out of his mind. He would have more time to fathom that mystery later. For now he had to concentrate on his mission of bringing Raleigh to justice for those very papers which he had stolen. And four kilometres away, with Higgins by her side, Carmelita was thinking of the very same thing.

Sly stretched and yawned, arching his back and splaying out his arms and legs. He wriggled his toes inside the blue boots and flexed his fingers in their blue gloves. It had been a tough and rigorous night-and there was still a way to go. He had really only scratched the surface of the villainous operation occurring on the Isle of Wrath. Much more hard work and need of his thieving skills would be required before the first goal was complete. And after all, he reminded himself, with Bentley and Murray captured it has already made it that much harder. Hopefully they would be able to free themselves before the night was out.

Once the papers were in Sly's hands there was no telling what Raleigh would do. If at the very least he had to avoid meeting the slimy amphibian, he hoped he could do as much damage to the monster's pride as possible. Completely destroy his operation and the image of terror that came with it. In the end he hoped to ruin the entire reputation of the Fiendish Five until they were nothing more than petty criminals behind bars. In fact, he would welcome a one on one with the very villain who had helped destroy so many lives.
But to do that he would have to focus on the task at hand and use all his personal skills and prowess: this was really when he could do with his friends beside him. Avenging many hundreds of people as well as his personal family was not an easy task to take on a single set of shoulders. But for now the weighty task was his alone.

He knew that if the opportunity was given to them, his friends would be with him every step of the way, sticking together as a family, until the very end. He was really the luckiest raccoon alive.

Regretfully pulling himself away from his melancholy lamentations, Sly sternly told himself that now was not the time for him to be emotional, with his friends at risk, but now was the time to act upon his instincts. He readied his body, tensioning it as before, ready for the dive-roll at the ledge of stone. Again his body felt itself coiling like an agitated spring, building up energy for the imminent plunge. Then he released the energy, letting it flow from his body like an invisible wave of water. He surged forwards.

The world on either side of him blurred and then morphed into a whirl of colours and sounds. He could here as sharp as anything the sounds of the thunder and lightning, the heavy downpour of rain and the crashing of the waves on the basalt cliffs. His thieving instincts seemed to have become attuned ten-fold once again. He glanced up briefly as his body rolled as a blur towards the ledge and quickly tucked his head back in, the rocks now roaring towards him. He felt his pack thump against the ground and his cane convulse violently as it was jiggled in his belt. The rolling blur of raccoon plunged forwards and as he leant slightly to one side, a strange new sensation occurred.

The whole rhythm of the roll changed and the streamlined current of his slim body seemed to cut away from his central path. He now felt himself rolling upwards, as if along a very steep slope. He managed to just open his eyes in the blinding winds and glimpse at what was happening. He gaped inwardly at what he was now doing. Without meaning to accomplish it he had turned the trajectory of his course towards the chalky cliffs of the canyon. His speed had been at such, that he had not stopped rather than pick up pace as his spinning body mounted the cliffs and twisted into a horizontal position. He was now rolling along the wall of the cliffs like a race car on a Ferrari track, leaving a blaze of sandy dust in his wake. He spun about like a child's spinning top.

It was truly incredible. With his singular skill he had incidentally added to the technique, he had now created enough friction to travel on a vertical surface. His Aunt had never talked of accomplishing this in her documents. Seemingly Sly had incidentally unleashed some of his own brand of true, thieving potential. It was the vertical raccoon role. He hooted again happily-his brand new technique was going to come in handy. Suddenly feeling more energy surge through his body and into his chest, Sly felt his movements pick up speed as he mounted the rise, came over the ledge, and continued rolling along the walls of the canyon, towards Raleigh's boat. The blur of sand was so fast that not a single security camera saw him go. Meanwhile, Sir Raleigh growled his displeasure at the sudden swiftness and apparent disappearance of his quarry.

The blur of colour continued its enigmatic path as it paved the way along the moss covered limestone cliffs. Sly was becoming so fast that he barely needed to glance ahead of him as in his inner mind the mental picture, created by his instincts was guiding him. It felt quite marvellous to be so wonderfully nimble and quick and yet not to have to constantly rely on the concrete world of vision. He could travel swiftly and focus on his inner thoughts to guide him. His first taste of what it was to truly be a master thief, to know the skills necessary to become one, was truly marvellous. The more he thought about it, the more the Fiendish Five seemed to pale in comparison.

Led by a jealous, malicious leader, they had seemingly attacked the Cooper family simply for their skills and aptitude. Burning rage, jealously and hate drove them on rather than a true skill of thievery. They were more petty criminals who relied on the many secrets and skills they had stolen to make their image. And the image they did create for themselves was only that of terror and malevolence. The skills they learned relied on base treachery, hunger and greed for their own desires rather than the Cooper brand of thievery.
The Cooper family had simply ruined the image of the five, shoved them aside too many times, for too long. The more Sly simply thought about it that was really all that the malicious charade thought up by his nemesis came to: an act of vengeance and punishment for those who had defied and bettered him. It was all down to that one fact. And that driving force of maliciousness, hate and greed was what had torn apart his life. That was what must be destroyed and defeated at the very end. And through it would emerge the new layer of hope. And along with it the rebirth of a true legacy of master thieves: the return of the once shattered legacy of the Cooper clan.

Finally, after several more wonderful seconds of wind and colours, Sly felt his body slowing down and releasing the torrent of manic energy. Slowly his spinning frame descended the cliffs and he came to a gentle turn on the soft lawn of dark green grass that now lay underfoot. At last the spinning motion came to an end as Sly picked himself up and straightened his back, flexing his slightly cramped body after the intense spinning. Satisfied that he had not gained any significant knocks or bruises during the dive-roll, Sly blinked his eyes and began to observe the area around him. His pack rustled as he absentmindedly removed the hooked cane from his belt and again gripped it tightly in his right blue glove.

Quite a spectacle lay before him. He now stood in an open end to the canyon that currently yawned behind him. He was perched atop a lush grassy ledge, strewn with several moss covered rocks and pebbles. The area was open to the air and the wind whipped about his handsomely neat features. A series of similar jagged ledges and moss covered boulders led down to a precarious promontory that overlooked the tremendous lake. And before him sat, towering over him in all its tremendous glory, bathing him in its enormous shadow was Raleigh's gigantic vessel of a boat, strewn with its haphazard assortment of cobbled towers and cannons. It sat like a tremendous fortress in the heart of the lake.

#

Carmelita stood silently on the lawn of damp grass. She was deep in thought and her body barely moved. Only the tell-tale rhythm of her sweeping tail gave any sign that she was not as rigid as a statue. About her, her men ran about consulting each other's notes, babbling in unintelligible French and generally making a fuss of the situation. The turtle and hippo were captured, but the raccoon remained at large, seemed to be the general conversation. And if Carmelita knew Cooper, it would remain that way. He would also be back for his friends, she was sure of it.

The red fox toyed with the clasp of her belt, nervous at her apparent connection to the thief. Suddenly the old scar that ran down her back seared with a spurt of pain. That injury and how she had obtained it was one of the only relics of her distant past. But she had to keep her mind on the present, on her mission to incarcerate the villain that called himself Sir Raleigh. That was her mission now and her past was behind her - she must put it behind her. With an effort she swallowed down the pain of the scar and straightened up. She cringed slightly and shuddered. She scrunched her eyes closed and took some slow, calming breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. She let her mind wonder and then focus inwardly on her parents - her past so many years before.

Then she had not bore the scar. It ran over her back like a reminder that it separated her past and presents self. Everything that had happened before she had had it seemed like faded memory, a dream or even like some old film, worn out and forgotten. But it also reminded her in difficult times such as now that she had a future, she was not only left to flounder in the real world, dragged down by what had happened to her. Her future was in her hands and she intended to seize it with every fibre of her being. She would never trade places with the way it had been before her scar.

There was one place she had looked to always encourage her. At times like this her parents had been a source of comfort. But they were no longer here, tragically caught up in the ever widening web of villainy in which she found to be entangled. She intended with all her heart to make them proud, not let them be sorry that she had allowed herself to ponder in eternal sorrow. For she had not-she had a future and intentions for it. Sly was somehow part of that future and although she was conflicted between her own two warring sides, she knew that her parents would be proud if she was happy. No matter what or who Cooper was, if that was what truly completed her, her parents would be happy for her. It was now time to set out even further and complete her goals. She remembered what her mother had used to say to her at difficult times. She had always encouraged Carmelita with but one, single phrase:

"Fear not my dear. You can control your own path. You have all the weapons you need. Now - fight!" Carmelita opened her eyes. She was ready. Now she would fight!

#

Raleigh grumbled to himself. Cooper did not seem at all hindered by any of the obstacles that he, himself, had placed before him. And what had made matters worse was that his cameras had lost sight of Cooper in the canyon path. He could be anywhere now, boarding the ship or sneaking around in the grounds. He had to be dispatched and dispatched now! The darned raccoon must have gotten hold of his Aunt's papers. There was not really any other explanation. How could he be moving around so fast? Even so, a thought nibbled at the back of Raleigh's mind. Maybe Cooper had learnt many skills of his own before now.

Maybe far more so than the snivelling child he had encountered sixteen years before. There was no chose. He must take direct action. With Interpol virtually on his doorstep and the Welsh authorities closing in, it was only a matter of time. The section of the ancient tome that resided in his vault must not be captured. He must fulfil, his purpose, his mission in life. He could not bear to think of life without the riches of piracy and the Fiendish Five. At any moment that dratted kid that should have been wiped out sixteen years before might shatter his dream and destroy his master plans. He would need to make ready a plan. He would not fail the five or his master. The Cooper legacy must never be reborn and shatter their reputation. He was only too happy to oblige. It would succeed and Cooper would be beaten!

But why, he asked himself, why had The Master spared Cooper? Why had he left him behind when every Cooper had fallen because of his burning ambition, his absolute hatred of the clan? The answer he did not know and could hardly guess. The Master worked in mysterious ways: he did not question why. He just did what he had to and ensured that the grand scheme proceeded. It was not his place to wonder these things, as was it not for the others of The Five. There was some greater purpose that The Master had in store; he had drawn them together for their combined hate of the Coopers.

Raleigh told himself that it did not matter. As long as he kept those pages safe, as long as he had his treasure and gold, he did not care. He had what he wanted. He would rub out Cooper as easily as a fly on the wall. For Cooper had those weaknesses he despised and he would happily prove this as his undoing. He found satisfaction in this thought. He despised weaklings who had no real power as he did; those who lived with love and compassion. He had loved someone once, and that had been his undoing. Power was your one faithful friend. The Master had given them all power: he would overcome Cooper and prove that. Without it you were weak, with power, you were strong. Love was weak because one had to trust – bah!

The Liner St. Petersburg, North Sea: 10:58 PM.

Brendan Stringer stood atop the stern of the mighty liner St. Petersburg – named after the city in which it was built. The majestic vessel sliced through the ice-cold waters of the North Sea like a knife. Yellow light glowed from the portholes behind him. A faint droning and humming sounded, deep within the ship, while the massive engines powered the propellers. He could hear them swashing the water aside in their great arcs, pushing the great ship forward. Through the night, by the lights on the deck, he could just see the vague outline of some islands. The distant islands of Svalbard, appearing frosted and white with snow like a cake. He had important business her also. For it was here he would meet the master, here he could ensure his vengeance. Together they would conspire for Cooper's ultimate destruction.

But he not only came to ensure Cooper's downfall, but that of his old friend and now rival Sir Nigel McShellson. With the Spear-Head at his command he would achieve this: but his friend had betrayed him, taken his power from him. What should have been his had been stolen. All that could have been his was lost. Sir Nigel had been his friend, a one true friend. He had grown up poor, shunned by society, or so he thought, because of his misfortune. The family he had been born into. He thought he had found comfort – but no, you could not trust, you could not love. Trust only made you weak.

While he intended to destroy his old friend for this betrayal, he also thanked him. Ironically his actions had made Stringer release that to have power he had to act alone. Love only made him susceptible to his weaknesses, trust enabled deception. To have true power, one could not have weakness such as this, one could not have attachments. Power existed through fear and threat of force. He had realised that, because of society, being kind and loving could only get one so far. But it was never true power. Might was from the strength to deny one's weakness – to overcome them. This, The Master knew.

This was how he had beaten the Coopers. Their weakness lay in compassion and love, while his cold and hatred made him powerful. Without emotion he easily quashed their flame. He had exploited their attachments and used these against them: to destroy them. Like The Master, Stringer hated Sly Cooper because he had everything he might have once done. He knew that the Cooper name would compromise his power. To rule he needed fear and he had to crush hope. He was strong, but Cooper made him weak - all that he stood for. A thief who actually cared? That was ridiculous, what kind of real thief – a villain - should care? He was undermined by the boy's very existence. But he could be destroyed: Stringer knew of his friendship with Nigel's son. Attack him emotionally and bring him down. Then The Master would have his final revenge against the Cooper Clan. He, Stringer, would obtain the power he had always deserved. Two enemies stood in his path. He could not have any attachments: to achieve his power, he would thrive in his hatred.

That was his strength.

Uluru, Northern Territory, Australia: 11:01 PM.

It was cold in the dessert at night. A chill wind blew across the arid landscape, the few trees bending in its wake. Spinifex and other plants rustled quietly. Apart from that of the pearlescent moon, only one light glowed in the darkness. The light came from a small fire atop a rock, where an Aboriginal Wise man sat by it. It spat and crackled through the night, easily masked by the rustlings of other animals put in the bush. The Wise man sat with his legs crossed, eyes closed to the happenings of the night. His great beard swished gently as he breathed, deep in contemplation. Before him the smoke of the air twisted and contorted into strange shapes, making pictures in the sky. The Wise man twitched and opened his eyes.

Glancing up at the fire, seeing the smoke, he stood up and walked closer. He carried a wooden staff tied to a stone that gleamed with a thousand facets. There was something mystical about the stone, almost magic in the way it reflected the earth and sky. But one could not tell. Standing over the small blaze, the Wise man waved his staff, as if conjuring an incantation and more images came forth from the smoke.

The smoke seemed to change with colours as images bloomed and went. The Wise man stood silent with concentration, staring at the fire; first there appeared images of a raccoon, a tortoise and a hippo. These evaporated to make way for an image of some cold and dark place, the sea frothing about it as rain pelted down. In his native tongue the Wise man chanted and threw several leafs and grains of fine sand into the flames. At once they changed colour and the smoke came forth again. He waved his staff and images of a fox, a dog and many more people appeared. Then he saw a frog like madman appear and the flames went red. All the figures disappeared in a cloud of red smoke as the frog image cackled silently. Then the raccoon appeared again, his face distraught and tear-tracked, being swarmed by the frog. The Wise man shook his head, causing the smoke to swirl and alter again.

More images, but this time evil and twisted, blossomed into being: a weasel staring across a dark sea, at some distant isle. A flash of silver as a blade was drawn. Several great brutes armed with guns and knives: a great blimp-like shape disappearing in flames. The Wise man's head began to throb and he sank to his knees. Instantly the flames cleared and he again saw the raccoon, this time intertwined with the fox. They spun about above the fire before a smoky blackness swamped them. This time a great dog, then a crocodile, then a panda bloomed in the fire. They all had looks of anger and rage upon their silent faces. The raccoon swam between them - the turtle, fox and hippo appeared again beside him. Then they were torn away again, consumed by the flames. All the other figures disappeared and were replaced by a single picture in the fire. A staff of dark wood floated in the blaze, before it exploded in a shower of sparks and a flash of light. Then a mask, going black and red and gold, appeared.

Shocked by what he saw, the Wise man rushed forward to sprinkle more sand over the fire. His staff glowed and the image became hazy, before sharpening again. The mask throbbed in the flames and suddenly he felt the night become somewhat colder. A definite sense of menace pierced the air. He turned back to the fire: it had one last sequence to deliver. In the place of the mask the raccoon appeared again, though doused in shadow. A monstrous shape erupted in flame and black smoke behind him, beating its awful wings. Piercing red eyes that turned everything black and cold appeared. The figure grew in the fire until it was like an enormous bat: it towered over the rock and cast supreme blackness about it. But then a golden spark of flame soared from the embers and the figure vanished.

Astonished by this, the Wise man hurried back to the fireside. The image of the raccoon glowed gold before him, bright light now shining in rays. The monstrous black presence was enveloped and became no more. The golden raccoon floated there momentarily, spinning slowly, when the fox, tortoise and hippo appeared again. The fox embraced him, shared a kiss possibly, while the tortoise and hippo cheered and wept silently. Then the images dissolved and the fire crackled. The flames sank and were swallowed in the embers. But not before a final puff of red smoke raised upwards, the malicious eyes just discernable once more.

The Wise man gazed with wonder at the glowing embers: he had never seen a prophecy such as this. He sensed danger, threat, darkness and an evil will of awful strength. He sensed there would be those who would commit bad deeds, in an attempt for power. He glanced around the dessert landscape; soon, but also in years, there may an ancient evil awakened here. He would do all that he had to protect it.

But the prophecy had also foretold of one who would overcome the darkness he had seen: this raccoon and his friends, who seemed to be symbols of hope and brightness - above all, love and compassion. He sensed one who had lost, but then gained because of kindness, friendship. He had this power, which enabled him to overcome the darkness. Was he a thief perhaps? If so, he realised his weaknesses and this gave him strength; to truly be strong one embraced this and did not try to escape it. There was conflict and emotion, possible regret. But this was strength and not a weakness. Hatred took while compassion could give. Cowards were those who ran from regret, became consumed by hate. To really be strong as one could, one realised his flaws. Then nothing could compromise who you truly were.

The Wise man stared down one last time at the fire, before heaping sand onto the embers, smothering the remaining sparks. He strode with his staff away across the rock and down to the sandy red soil. The light caught his moonstone and glanced off it like a thousand more moon beams. He closed his eyes and murmured a chant. Then he walked away across the dessert, eclipsed by the shadow of the great rock Uluru.

Chapter 9 - Chapter 6 of 13 in Part 2 of 6.
The web expands and the true consequences and key players in the quest for The Thievious Raccoonus reveal themselves.
Sly and his friends are fighting now for much more than they first thought. Can they maintain their courage as master thieves and overcome The Master's schemes?
Chapter 10 will be published in about two weeks - as always, enjoy reading the story!