A wild update appears!

So, we've finally hit the double digits guys. Rather exciting. Usually when I get to around 10 chapters, the story is over, or I get unmotivated, and stop writing. And unfortunately (?), the latter seems to be occurring atm. I still do have the entire thing planned, but the drive to complete it is just starting to wind down a little bit.

I'm hopeful that I don't stop though, just because I wouldn't want to do that to the few people who still happen to be reading, and enjoying this, haha. And I did that enough with my old account. To make up for this, have an extra long chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sly Cooper and friends. They are owned by SuckerPunch. Any characters not recognized, are mine though.

Chapter 10: Crowd Control

Sly stretched while suppressing a yawn, as he walked out into the dining room of Bentley's apartment. Normally, Sly wouldn't be up this early, but the savoury smell of bacon and eggs cooking had drawn him away from the comforts of the couch. As he came over, the raccoon saw his large hippo friend tipping a plateful of bacon onto a napkin to get rid of the grease.

"Morning," the raccoon called. He was still feeling groggy, so he hoped that a coffee, and some breakfast would wake him up. He only had an hour or so, before he had to be on his way to Interpol.

Murray looked up from his cooking, and gave his shorter friend a wide grin. "Morning, Sly! I'm making my famous scrambled eggs, and bacon! Think you can stick around, and eat some before you have to leave?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Sly grinned back, as he pulled out a chair, and sat himself on it. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to settle the tousled fur on top, but soon gave up on the endeavour. He was soon presented with a full plate of food, with at least 4 strips of bacon, and 2 eggs. It smelled amazing, the bacon being just the right type of crispiness, and the eggs looking nice and fluffy. Sly was soon shovelling the food into his mouth. He'd really had missed his friend's cooking, seeing as neither himself, nor Bentley had ever really learned how to cook properly. Ironically, Murray was more of a housekeeper than either of the other two.

Once he was done, Sly stretched again, and grinned. "That was great, Murray. You really need to teach me how to cook one day."

The robust hippo blushed, and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Geez, Sly. Hey, how about some time next week, I teach you how to make a good omelette? With cheese, and bacon, and peppers, and other delicious stuff."

"Sounds great, buddy." Another glance at his watch, had Sly sweeping his plates into the sink. "We'll plan those out later, but if I don't jet, I'm going to be late for work."

At this notion, Murray's face fell slightly, but he quickly recomposed himself into a wide smile. Sly felt his heart twitch at the fact that his friend was so affected by their no longer seeing each other everyday like before. But Sly had to remind himself, that things change; even though he had really hoped they wouldn't. The raccoon sighed. "I swear Murray, I'll try my best to see you guys more often, alright?"

He went forward, and patted his friend on the arm, one of the only places he could reach. Murray nodded, and then grinned again. Sly knew exactly what he was planning, and jumped away before the hippo could nab him into a bone crushing hug. The hippo ended up sweeping up a huge amount of air.

"Well, will you look at the time?" Sly exclaimed, grinning even Murray laughed. The raccoon walked over to the window, throwing it open so he could leave. Normally, Sly would have left out the door, and walked to Interpol, but after he'd caught another glance at his watch, he would be late if he walked on the streets. Before he jumped out, he turned back to say goodbye to Murray, but started slightly when he saw both Bentley and Penelope were awake because of the commotion. "Oh hey guys. Sorry I have to leave so suddenly, but I'm going to be late if I don't leave now."

Bentley nodded in understanding. "It's fine. We'll see you around, alright?"

Penelope smiled herself, and leaned her chin on Bentley's head, while throwing her arms around the turtle's shoulders. She looked sleepy, but Sly caught a certain amount of cheekiness in her large brown eyes. "Just make sure you call me whenever you want to go shopping."

Sly laughed, especially at seeing both Murray, and Bentley's confused looks. He decided to be cryptic, and keep his friends guessing on what Penelope meant. "I'll make sure to do that. I promise to help you find something that'll make Bentley very happy."

At this notion, the turtle turned beet red, while Penelope started giggling madly. Murray's eyes widened slightly, and his mouth fell open. The turtle began to splutter, and turned to Penelope with his mouth agape. More laughter echoed from the raccoon, who simply shook his head at the display, and turned to leap out the window.

Before he did, he turned his head, and called back, "trust me Bentley. You'll like it."

With a wink, he was off, twisting in the air to grab onto a pipe a window over. He climbed up quickly, and leapt onto the roof. Looking at his watch again, he grimaced at seeing he only had about 15 minutes to get to Interpol. But Sly was confident he could do it. Dashing off, the raccoon was racing across the rooftops, the wind flying through his fur. It felt somehow relieving, and tension he hadn't known to possess in his muscles began to dissipate. The last time he had run across the rooftops like this, was nearly 8 months ago, back before he arrived at Kaine Island with his gang. Sly had truly missed this feeling.

He couldn't help the large grin that crossed his face, as he easily leaped across the rooftops, and racing across wires with ease. But all too soon, it was over, as he spotted the Interpol building looming up ahead. A quick decision had him sliding down a pipe on the side of an apartment building, and fixing his clothing. Sly quickly crossed the street, and walked into Interpol, acting as though he hadn't just run straight there.

He raced to his shared office, and stopped to look through the door's window, where he saw Carmelita was already busy with paperwork, hunched over her desk. Her brows were knitted together, and her paw furiously scribbled away. The grin on Sly's face faltered slightly, as he noticed that for some reason, the vixen looked extremely agitated about something.

"Morning, Carm," he said as he opened the door to the office.

She immediately whipped her head upwards, and demanded, "where were you?"

The raccoon froze where he was, and instinctively put his arms up. "You know I stayed home last night. What did I do?"

Carmelita barely let him get the question out, before she grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out of the office. Sly allowed himself to be pulled, looking completely bewildered to what was happening. She appeared nervous - almost terrified - about something as she lead him through the halls. Her tail twitched behind, and her hair seemed even messier than usual, as though she'd run her paws through it many times.

"Carm, what's going on?" he asked. The raccoon stiffened at seeing where she was taking him, considering that he'd seen this place a few times before when he'd been asked to come in and ask Yorath's men about their employer. She was taking him to the interrogation rooms, located in the lower belly of Interpol.

"Something's come up, and," she paused here, as her voice shook slightly, "you're going to be interrogated. About what I don't know, but Sly…" Here, she stopped, Sly just barely managing to stop himself from running into her. Carmelita's brown eyes were wide, and it seemed to him, as though the vixen were seeing him differently. It made the fur on the back of his neck stand up.

"I just… hope that you'll be okay."

"Carm-"

A shake of her head, and Carmelita let his wrist go. She gently pushed him towards the room where he was apparently going to be interrogated. Sly's ears flattened slightly, and his tail began to twitch just as nervously as Carmelita's was.

"They're waiting inside," she murmured softly. She looked up at him, shook her head again, and dashed off, leaving the raccoon alone. He watched her figure disappear behind a corner. Sly was frozen where he was, taken aback by the sudden upheaval. He could have sworn he'd seen tears in Carmelita's eyes, but he wasn't sure why she would be crying. Was she scared for him? Or was it something else entirely? He ran a paw through his hair, and glanced at the door currently separating him from this supposed interrogation.

What the hell is happening?

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Sly strode forward, and opened the door.

Walking into the interrogation room, Sly had expected - at the most - one or two officers; Inspectors at the very least, perhaps ones he didn't know very well, so that they wouldn't let personal emotions get in the way of something of this calibre. What he didn't expect, was to walk in on both Chief Barkley, and Commissioner Arks sitting across a metal table with files, and the like laid out in front of them. A tape recorder was also included in the items present, placed right in the middle of the table.

Sly froze at the door, his paw holding onto the doorknob now tightening like a vice. He was surprised he didn't hear the groaning of metal under his paw, so hard he was gripping onto it.

"Morning, Cooper," Barkley said in a grave voice, not at all helping Sly's already shaken nerves. "Take a seat, and we'll get started."

Being as good as he'd been while working as a thief, Sly had never been caught by the police (without his consent of course), so he had no clue on how these interrogations would go. He'd seen enough TV dramas to have an idea how it might go down, but he also knew that this wasn't going to be case. Nothing was scripted here, and if he said one word out of line, Sly couldn't go back and ask to re-shoot the scene again; and that was enough to make sweat bead under his fur.

"Have a seat, Constable," Isaac said, using his paw to gesture to the empty seat across the table. The ever present smile that usually accompanied the coyote's demeanour was missing, making a shiver run up Sly's spine. The effect was eerie enough to make Sly wish that the smile was back.

Silently, Sly slunk into the room, shut the door, and sat himself into the straight backed chair. Several long florescent lights were the only source of light in the small, and cramped room. The walls, ceiling, and floors were all painted in a dark slate, emulating a tomb of sorts to the former thief. Everything was still in the room, with the only source of noise coming from the large clock hung right above a large mirror taking up an entire wall on the left. Sly eyed the mirror, knowing that there were probably people on the other side of it, but he tried his best to ignore it, and refocus on the task at hand.

Both the Chief and Commissioner were watching him closely, regarding any slip in his demeanour, to which the raccoon immediately steadied his slightly shaking paws on the table.

He offered them a shaky smile, but neither of them returned it. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. After a moment of silence fell over them, Barkley cleared his throat, and sat up straighter in his seat. "Well Cooper, as you were probably told before, this is a serious interrogation, and is not in any way, a joke. So get that into your head before we start asking you questions."

Sly resisted the urge to swallow a lump in his throat, and instead opted to just nod his head in understanding. Once that was done, Barkley nodded himself, and leaned back in his chair to glance over at the Commissioner.

Isaac pushed his glasses up on his nose, his eyes disappearing for a second behind his lenses. "Alright, Constable. I'm sure you know what this is, correct?"

He pushed an innocent looking file across to Sly, who took it in his paws. The folder was something he recognized instantly, as the file that was given to him soon after he was accepted to Interpol. His name was stamped in black on the very top, along with a picture of himself that had been doctored to show Sly in an Interpol uniform. Inside, were a number of documents, mostly all forged so that Sly would believe he'd been working for Interpol for the past few years. No one would look at it twice, and think the files, or official documents were falsified in any way.

"Yes sir," Sly answered, licking his lips. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls, his throat dry, and scratchy. When he looked up at the two authority figures, it was to find them both staring intently at him. Sly figured this was all a ruse to done by the cops to get confessions out of people; but he couldn't deny it was rather effective. The feeling of being a specimen observed under a microscope, was more than enough to make any sane person snap. "I'd recognize it anywhere."

The Commissioner's glasses flashed again; this time Sly was able to catch a glimpse of amber, along with a slight smile. "I would certainly hope so, Constable."

He looked over to Barkley, who pushed another folder over to Sly, this one a lot fatter than the one the raccoon currently held. This was another one that Sly recognized instantly, but kept his façade up to assume that he didn't. He made no move to take it in paw, however.

"This would be a file we copied from an original that was stolen a few years ago," Commissioner Arks explained. "In it, describes what little information we know about a certain thief, named Sylvester Raccoon, who terrorized many countries with robberies for a few years, before he disappeared into obscurity."

Again, the coyote was watching Sly closely for any form of reaction. The former thief remained stoic, internally congratulating himself for not letting anything slip that he recognized any of the information being fed to him.

After a while, Isaac sighed, and said, "I want you to read through the information we have, if you'd please."

Unable to deny what the Commissioner wanted, Sly took the file in his shaky paws, and flipped it open, ignoring the name stamped on the front. This was the very same file - well, a copy of it anyway - that he had stolen all those years ago from Carmelita's office. Having read it over, and over when he was 18, Sly knew the entire thing off by heart, but he made a show of it, skimming through the information laid out on paper. From what he could tell, everything was exactly the same, with the exception that his name was altered to Sylvester Raccoon. The few pictures that they'd managed to capture of him, were all grainy, dull, and dark. There were barely any form of detail that one could discern from the horrible pictures, but Sly could make out his cane always clutched in his paw. Information inside was scarce, such as his date of birth, full name, his father's name, and species; but even those were labelled as inaccurate. The only real information inside, was of the robberies he'd committed, and some information about the Fiendish Five that Sly knew all about.

Swallowing another lump in his throat, Sly gave his best confused looking expression as he read it over. Once he was done, he looked up at both Barkley, and Commissioner Arks. "Why are you showing me this?"

Barkley was the one to speak up this time. "Did you recognize any of the information inside? Such as locations, or the items taken?"

"No sir," Sly immediately denied, cursing himself for answering so quickly. But if it was noticed by them, neither made any notion to it.

Barkley gave a grunt of affirmation, while the Commissioner nodded silently. "I'm sorry to say, that the pictures aren't the best in those files, considering that said thief managed to steal our original file. The photos there are ones we had to take afterwards, and let's say… He was much better at avoiding us at that point."

Sly suppressed a grimace. "Commissioner, what does this have to do with the interrogation?" I hope you haven't found out about my faking amnesia, he added silently to himself.

Commissioner Arks didn't answer straight away, instead exchanging another look with Barkley. Again, the old badger was the one to cut in.

"It has everything to do with this interrogation, Cooper," he said gravely. He leafed through the files still in front of them, and tossed another one at Sly, who stopped it from sliding off the table with his paw. "That there, is the information we gathered from the Louvre over 4 months ago, where the Star of India was stolen."

"I remember this," Sly muttered softly. His brows furrowed together, as he opened the file, and read through the information, and photos inside. It was fairly basic, most of it containing very clear photos of broken glass, and possible entry points; one even contained an upturned potted fern. What really caught Sly's attention however, was the photo of the empty glass case, where the Star of India had been presented. Well, at least it was supposed to be empty.

His paws shook even more as he stared down at a clear photograph of his calling card, sitting right in the middle of the velvet pillow. Licking his lips again, Sly asked in a cracked voice, "this the same calling card that's in the files of the thief."

"The very same," Commissioner Arks spoke up. He leaned forward a bit more, his paws folded underneath his chin as his eyes held no light of stopping their scrutiny of the raccoon. "As you can probably remember from Sylvester Raccoon's file, he disappeared not more than about a year ago. For a long while, Interpol thought he was done thieving."

"But, it seems like he's back," Barkley added his own point. The badger sighed, and scrubbed a paw through the fur on his chin. "And it's the only lead we have to this case."

"At the Louvre?" Sly asked again, still clearly shell-shocked from the photo still laid out in front of him.

"The Louvre, yes," Commissioner responded. Pulling out another file from underneath his elbow, he pushed it across to Sly, who took it cautiously. "And at this location."

Sly flipped the file open again, and was once again treated to a plethora of photographs, and location information. This one was pertaining to the Musée Guimet where, from what Sly could see, a number of Asian art had been stolen. And once again, the raccoon saw his calling card stuck to various places in the museum. Sweat was starting to now fall down his face, but he made no move to wipe it away, and instead looked up to see that his superiors were staring at him again.

"What… does this have to do with me?" Sly finally managed to ask, after clearing his throat, and steadying his voice.

Both Barkley, and Isaac seemed to be prepared for this.

Commissioner Arks tapped Sly's thieving file with a finger. "What Intel we've managed to gather at the crime scenes thus far, all points to Sylvester Raccoon to being the thief. However, we've run across a few snags, one of those being that there was evidence of your fingerprints being found at the scene last night."

Sly stiffened immediately at hearing this. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me, Constable," Commissioner Arks sighed. "If it wasn't for the fact that your fingerprints weren't at the scene, we would have initially thought this was the work of the thief. But with this new information, we've had to completely rethink this entire endeavour. Until we can clear your name, Constable Cooper, you are a prime suspect in this case."

Unable to say a word, Sly continued to stare at the Commissioner, with wide eyes, and an opened mouth. His thoughts were spinning out of control, and he suddenly felt like he was caught in a car crash, forced to watch every detail happen. His paws tightened across the files, crinkling the paper underneath his fingers. "Commissioner, I don't understand. I can tell you that I wasn't the one who stole this art."

He put the file down now, and resisted the urge to pound his fist into it. Now his fear was turning into anger, as Sly realized that this was wholly unfair, considering he hadn't put a single toe out of line throughout the entire time he'd been at Interpol. But now it seemed as though someone out there was trying to ruin what he'd been working so hard to build.

"Be as that may be, Cooper," Barkley exhaled, his brows knitting together. "At this point in time, we have no other information to go on. The unfortunate case being, that you are a prime suspect in this case, and unless you have a solid alibi, Commissioner Arks, and I will be forced to arrest you."

Commissioner Arks reached over, and ejected the tape from the recorder, making Sly jump. Once he'd pushed another tape in, and pressed the record button again, the coyote said, "please proceed to tell us what you were doing last night, around 12 AM, Constable."

Sly steadied himself as best as he could. "Last night… I was home the entire night. I watched a movie until 12 AM, and went to bed soon after. The Musée Guimet is at least an hour's drive from my apartment, so there's no way I could have gotten there, and back to my apartment before the robbery occurred. That, and I don't own a car."

The coyote nodded, and looked over to Barkley, who looked fairly unconvinced with Sly's explanation. "Is there anyone we can contact to confirm you were in your apartment the entire night?"

Wincing, Sly slowly nodded, quickly coming up with something. "One of my neighbours - Kevin Michaels - can tell you I never stepped foot out of my apartment." Sly knew he was taking a risk with this, considering he'd left his apartment through the front door. He sincerely hoped that his neighbour wouldn't say anything otherwise, or better yet, didn't see anything at all.

He saw the both interrogators exchange looks, to which Sly took a chance to steal another glance at the pictures before him. His calling card was clear as day on the pedestal, and varying other locations. No one else would use those, except himself, but Sly also knew that it was incredibly easy to fold a piece of card into the likeness of the blue, and white raccoon head. It was obvious someone was framing him, but what was really bothering him, was that his finger prints were found at the scenes. There was no way anybody but a professional would be able to lift his prints off something, and use it against him. Either, they had taken it off several places Sly had actually gone to, his apartment itself, or someone had taken the prints from the database at Interpol. Before he could be fully accepted, Sly had been required to give his fingerprints again, on the claims that his files were outdated. Of course, Sly had provided them without question, but now it seemed as though someone was using them to frame him.

"Cooper!"

Sly nearly jumped out of his fur. His head whipped upwards, to see both Barkley, and the Commissioner staring at him. The old badger cleared his throat, and pointed a finger to the door. "We're done here, so you can go now, Cooper. But keep in mind, that even with your alibi in place, you're going to be closely watched from now on. It's just a precaution, so we can cover all the bases before we officially say that you're clear of any suspicion."

Nodding mutely, Sly stood, willing his legs that now felt like jelly to support him. He was about to walk out the door, but paused with his paw on the doorknob. "Commissioner?"

Said coyote looked up from pulling the tape out from the recorder. "Yes, Constable?"

"Was there any other evidence, besides my fingerprints, and the calling card found at the scenes?"

"No, Constable Cooper. No other evidence was found."

Sly nodded slowly, and looked back to see Commissioner's Arks' bright, amber eyes boring into his. Shivering slightly, Sly said a quick thanks, and slipped back out the door.

As soon as he was outside, he let out a shaky sigh, trying his best to seem like everything was okay. The reality was, that Sly was not okay in the least. Now knowing just what had caused a sudden influx in guarded actions a scant 4 months ago, the raccoon knew things were starting to get dangerous at the precinct. And not just because of his past.

Who could be framing me? He stopped walking, and leaned against a wall, his eyes unfocused on a spot on the wall. There was really only one person who came to mind, but Sly had to admit, he didn't think Bordeaux would have the resources, nor the ability to pull this off. The canine did have the drive for it, but Sly was willing to give Bordeaux the benefit of the doubt here. Another sigh escaped him, as he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on, and restarted his walk to Carmelita's office. Instantly, he started to wonder if perhaps she had said anything to the Commissioner or Chief, but he pushed it out of his mind. Carmelita was one of the few he could trust, and he didn't want to believe that she didn't trust him back.

For a moment, he had the fleeting thought of asking Bentley if there was anything he could research to find out if there were really impostors trying to frame him. But soon enough, he shook his head. There was no way he could pull Bentley, or Murray back into this again, and not just because it would confirm to Interpol that he never lost his memories. No, Sly had no intention of running them for a solution to his problem, seeing as the two now had normal lives. Sly couldn't take that away.

This was a problem he had to deal with on his own.

Because of his wandering thoughts, Sly wasn't watching where he was going, and bumped into the last person he wanted to see at that point in time. Looking up, he mentally groaned to see the oldest Bordeaux brother glaring down at him.

"What do you want?" Sly muttered, not at all in the mood to deal with the infuriating canine.

"I heard what happened," sneered Bordeaux. He crossed his arms across his chest, looking extremely pleased for some reason; it made Sly's frown deepen. "How does it feel to know that Commissioner Arks or Chief Barkley don't trust you anymore?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Sly said, "I don't think it's your business to know what happened. Now, get out of my way so I can get back to work."

"You think that everybody here doesn't already know?" the canine's grin grew even wider, his amber eyes holding back the pleasure he felt at knowing that Sly was in trouble with the Commissioner, and Chief. "All of us know you're just a lying scumbag, and pretty soon, Commissioner Arks will know it too. And when that happens, you'll be in jail, and nobody will think twice about bailing you out."

The raccoon's teeth began to clench together, his fur standing up on the back of his neck. He knew it was true too. If he was unable to convince Commissioner Arks, or Chief Barkley, than he'd be thrown in jail without any chance of getting out. So far, Sly seemed to have done a good enough job, but he also knew that his alibi was rather flimsy. Somehow, Sly had to find a way to make sure that he exposed whoever it was that was framing him for these robberies.

"Keep in mind," Bordeaux snarled, bringing Sly back down to reality, "that no one here believes you're telling the truth at all." The taller man pointed a finger straight at Sly, jabbing him forcefully in the chest.

A growl rumbled in Sly's throat, but he immediately forced himself to quiet it. Brawling with Bordeaux in the middle of Interpol would not help his chances in making himself look good for the Commissioner, and Chief. If anything, it would just convince them that he was unable to deal with his emotions, and could possibly lead them to believe that he was lying, and had gone back to thieving. Sure, it was a pretty far fetched idea, but Sly didn't want to risk anything.

He took a deep breath, and steadied himself, before saying, "well, that's just your opinion. I know I'm innocent, and if the Commissioner, and Chief want to believe me, then they can. Nothing you say is going to change that."

Sly went to walk around the taller man, but a paw latched itself onto his upper arm. This time, the raccoon was unable to mask his growl. Both of them glared at one another, neither saying a thing, until Sly ground out, "don't think you can intimidate me. Now let me go."

A sinister sounding chuckle escaped Bordeaux. "I'm warning you now, that nobody here is going to back you up when all your lies are exposed. I'm going to make sure of it."

With that said, he let Sly's arm go roughly, and turned to stalk down the hallway.

Sly's brown eyes glared daggers at the canine's back, until Bordeaux disappeared behind a corner. Once he was gone from sight, Sly shook his head in irritation, and started towards his shared office again. However, something else stopped him in the form of his phone suddenly vibrating in his pocket. He paused, and pulled out the phone, his brows knitting together when he read the name.

It was just a message though, so Sly flicked his phone opened, and quickly opened it. Surprised, he found a rather curt message from Bentley, which also managed to get a chuckle out of the raccoon. It read:

Why didn't you tell me you were proposing to Inspector Fox?

Chuckling softly, Sly looked around for a moment, and then ducked into the bathroom that was nearby. After he was sure the door was locked, Sly sat down one of the empty toilets, and quickly wrote another message back to Bentley, this one a bit longer than usual.

Sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you last night. Don't be too mad now; don't want you bursting a blood vessel. Anyway, look pal, something's come up here at Interpol, and I can't meet up with you guys anymore. I'm real sorry, but if I don't want to get into trouble here, I'm going to have to break all contact with you, and the gang. Trust me, I don't want to do this anymore than you want to hear it, but unless I want everyone to find out about my faking amnesia, then I need to cut off all ties with you guys.

I'm sorry.

Oh, but before I forget. Why don't you pop the question to Penelope too? I think she's waiting for that ring, and you don't want her running off with Dimitri, do you? Anyway, Bentley… I'll miss you guys a lot, and tell Murray I'm sorry I won't be able to learn any cooking tips from him. Those grilled cheese sandwiches, and his bacon and eggs were delicious. Tell the big lug I appreciate it.

Don't respond to this message when you get it.

-Sly

His finger hovered over the send button. Sly read, and reread the message for what seemed like hours, until he finally sighed softly, and pressed the button. He watched as the phone beeped, and proclaimed the message had been sent. After that was all said and done, Sly felt like he had taken the coward's way out by not physically calling Bentley, and telling him the situation.

But at the same time, his stomach plummeted at knowing that this was truly it. Sly would no longer be able to call Bentley up, and plan some sort of get together. Of course, when they did meet up, it was very scarce, considering he'd only seen the gang a grand total of 3 times since he'd started working at Interpol. But at least, he'd had the knowledge of knowing that he could call, or send Bentley a message whenever he pleased. Now though…

Shaking his head, the raccoon went through his phone's history, running across the few handful of messages he'd exchanged with Bentley throughout the months. Each one was usually scarce, and not worth saving, and yet Sly hadn't deleted a single one. It was mostly due to the fact that he felt like doing so would be like trying to erase his past completely from the picture, and he couldn't do that to his brothers. With another sigh, and his ears flattening slightly, Sly began the arduous task of deleting each message from his phone. Unfortunately, it didn't get any easier the longer he went. Finally, after an excruciating 10 minutes of stalling, the former thief had finally rid his phone of the messages sent by his friend.

This was much harder than he thought it would be.

Sly had always had the image in his head, that he would be able to continue being with Carmelita, eventually ask her to marry him, and then tell her about his faked amnesia. The image of her possibly being angry at him had always been a constant smear in his daydreams, but Sly knew that if Carmelita didn't love him as much as he loved her, than she wouldn't have lied to him too. And he knew, that she would eventually forgive him, and marry him. Once that happened, Sly would then be able to see Bentley, Murray, and Penelope - and maybe even the other guys - as much as he wanted, without the fear of ruining what he had with Carmelita.

But now, everything had gone to shit.

Tears of frustration, and sadness pricked at the corners of Sly's eyes, which he hastily wiped away. He sat where he was for a moment, to try and calm himself down. His phone suddenly vibrated in his paw, making him jump so much, that he nearly dropped the damn thing. Flipping it open again, he was a little shocked to see another message from Bentley on his phone.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips, as he realized that Bentley had outright ignored what the raccoon had said about not replying to the message. Quickly, so as to not rouse anymore suspicion to why he was taking so long in the bathroom, Sly opened the message, and read what had been sent.

I know you said not to reply to your last message, but I couldn't let it go like that. Anyway, I'm not going to ask what's going on at Interpol, but all of us understand the risks that came with your charade. I've told Murray, and he's a little upset, but he promises that when whatever's going on at Interpol blows over, he'll teach you a few cooking tricks, so you can impress Inspector Fox.

Also, I don't think you should be giving me advice on my love life, Sly, considering what you're doing at the moment.

He paused in his reading to chuckle softly at what was said, before continuing.

But it's not like you've ever listened to me. Thanks for the advice though, and maybe next time we see each other, both of our girls will have a ring on their hand. Maybe even Murray will have someone to show off to you. Regardless, this isn't goodbye, and we all know it. So it's better to say…

"Until next time, Peking Duck."

- Bentley, Penelope, and Murray

After reading through the entire message, Sly shook his head. His throat tightened suddenly, as he reread it again. But unable to delay the inevitable, Sly deleted the very last message from Bentley. Once he'd done that, he scoured his address book in the phone, and quickly highlighted Bentley's name. Again, hesitation made him freeze where he was. His thumb hovered over the button that would erase Bentley's number from his phone, and although he knew it would be easy to get it again whenever he wanted to, Sly understood what he was doing was significant.

Was the relationship he had with his brothers, the two who had stuck with him through thick and thin over the course of 13 years, worth sacrificing so he could be with the love of his life?

He didn't have the answer to the question.

With a heavy heart, Sly pressed his thumb down, and deleted Bentley's number from his cell phone.

"So, what do you think?" Barkley asked with a heavy tone to his voice. He instantly started to light up a cigar in order to ease his nerves, and exhaled a plume of smoke, before gazing imploringly at the Commissioner.

The handsome coyote continued to stare at a point on the table, with a slight frown on his lips. Finally, he managed to say, "I'm not exactly sure, Barkley. But he seems to be telling the truth here. I saw no deception in him."

At this, Barkley quirked a brow, and his moustache bristled slightly. "You seem to have missed the points when he seemed to freeze up seeing his old thieving file. And as far as we can tell, his alibi is full of holes. Even if we check with his neighbour, there's no guarantee that we'll get anything from it."

"You're starting to sound like the others who doubt Constable Cooper," Isaac sighed. He took off his glasses, and kneaded at a spot between his eyes where a headache seemed to be forming. "Regardless, I do think we have a few more things to consider. At this point in time, the only evidence we have on these robbery cases are Sly Cooper's calling cards. Something that anyone could easily replicate if they wanted to."

Silence fell over the two authority figures, as both retreated into their thoughts. Barkley felt a bit uneasy to think that the Commissioner was continuing to come up with excuses in order not to arrest, and throw Sly Cooper in jail. To the Chief, it was as though Isaac Arks was stalling for something, or perhaps even trying to protect the raccoon. It raised red flags in the badger's mind, but he eventually decided against voicing his rebuttals. After all, he did trust the younger coyote, and knew that perhaps there was something more to this case he wasn't quite yet seeing; but doubts continued to slither through his thoughts like snakes.

"Why did you lie to him?" Barkley finally asked, unable to handle the silence.

"Whatever do you mean?"

The badger shot an incredulous look at the coyote at his side. "You know exactly what I mean, Isaac." Barkley had now dropped formalities, referring to the younger man by his first name. Commissioner Arks' brows rose at this, even as Barkley continued to speak. "There hasn't been any type of fingerprints found at the scenes, and you know it. You're lucky Cooper didn't call you out on that bluff."

Either Cooper's acting the fool, or you're in on something here, Barkley added silently to himself.

"It was merely a warning of sorts," Isaac said with a slight smile. Seeing that the old badger was not at all amused by this statement, he sighed. "Barkley, you, and I both know, that if Cooper were to find out that we're all lying to him so that he continues to be a cop, that he may very well go back to thieving. Most others may not think his amnesia is real, but if it is and we expose his past, then we're simply giving him the tools to go back."

A rough sounding grunt escaped Barkley. "Maybe, but I don't really approve of you lying, and altering his file like this."

With this notion, Isaac rounded on the badger, with a hard look in his amber eyes. The sudden action caused Barkley to frown.

"You, and I both know that it's not just myself lying to Cooper. The entire precinct is on it, including yourself, Howard," the coyote nearly spat Barkley's name out. The police Chief's white moustache bristled again, at being spoken so harshly by a man nearly 25 years his junior, but was unable to get a word in before Isaac continued to speak. "You've told me time, and time again, that you're placing your trust in me. And although you might not agree with everything I do, I wouldn't expect you to distrust me so easily. Everything I'm doing, is to ensure the best for Interpol, and if it means having to dirty my paws every once in a while, so be it. From what I see, you're unwilling to do the same."

Isaac stood to his full height, his eyes still boring holes into Barkley.

Barkley remained silent, letting what his superior had just said sink in. Honestly, the badger did trust Isaac fully, to the point where he would blindly follow the coyote in any endeavour he did. Hell, he was already foolishly agreeing with what Isaac was doing in regards to Cooper in Interpol. Finally, he sighed, and said, "I'm sorry if my doubts are clouding my judgement here. I do trust you, Commissioner, but you have to admit, what you're doing is a bit suspicious."

Shaking his head, the Commissioner gathered the files in paw, before saying, "perhaps, Barkley, but at the same time, I'm only doing this for one reason."

When he didn't elaborate, Barkley turned to the Commissioner. "Which is?"

Isaac fixed the shorter man with a steady look. "I'd rather keep that information to myself."

Once he said this, Isaac gathered the recorder, and tape in paw, and left the old badger alone in the interrogation room without another word.

The silence in the room was suffocating after the door closed behind the coyote. Barkley ran a paw across his face, heaving a loud sigh into the silent room. Everything was going to shit, and the old badger was not happy about it in the least. As much as he wanted to believe that all their problems with Sly Cooper as a thief had disappeared, it seemed as though the past couldn't just be swept under the rug. And although Barkley wanted to believe what the Commissioner was doing, was because he was trying to do what was best for Interpol, he couldn't shake off the uneasiness that came with believing he was wrong.

Eventually, Barkley shook his head, and decided against voicing any of this to anyone else. He was going to trust Isaac Arks one last time. As he walked to the door, and opened it, he thought grimly to himself, I just hope you don't make me regret trusting you, Commissioner.

Hmmm… Just what could all this be?