Chapter -13-
"Following the Cooper Key"
Meanwhile, back in Bayern, Germany…
Agent White glanced over at Cleo in silence. He tugged on one of his whiskers keeping his other paw on the wheel. The fox offered her a frown but she didn't react. "You're normally not this callous, Cleopatra. You really should let Saundra out of the bag. I mean, we've not even stopped for a bathroom break."
In her usual German dialect, she muttered, "Are you serious?" Cleo looked up for the first time in three hours. "I've been so proud of you, Jake… you've been setting the land speed record for me and, suddenly, you want to chitchat? You've been quiet since we got gas, like I asked… and now this?"
White glanced at the gas tank. The GMC Denali, outfitted with propane tanks, filled at sixty-seven cents per gallon before leaving France. The cast-iron block engine thirsted for propane, running at about eighteen miles per gallon, even with the Denali's Displacement on Demand V-8. "We were stopped a few miles south of the Luxembourg line; we've certainly zigzagged on this eastward journey. We should stop for gas again, soon."
"Propane is more expensive in Germany than Diesel, because we determine cost by the octane rating in this country," replied the baroness. "I expect you to put it on a charge card. You're right; we'll all stop to use the bathroom but we're in a hurry."
"What's the goddamn deal, Moore? Why've you got your sister in a bag, anyhow?"
Cleopatra smiled. The squirrel shifted to face him. Her mismatched eyes bore into the side of his face for a moment until he glanced over at her again. She shrugged then said, "Saundra can't get into trouble for not checking in if she's at gunpoint or physically unable. Right now, she's physically unable. I cannot believe you slept with her again, Jake. You know she's married, young man."
Jacob White looked away, unwilling to be guilt-tripped by the woman. "I'll find a service station that sells propane. What's the deal, though? You're having two CIA agents drive you back through Germany at gunpoint; are you insane?"
Cleopatra narrowed her mismatched eyes. The squirrel leaned back in her seat then glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard radio. She took a moment to compensate for the time zone change then glanced up at the dark sky. Ahead of them, the horizon began to lighten in the distance. "We less than two hours before sunrise. Let's stop at the nearest station. We have a long way to go before we're in Prague. We don't have a lot of time, Jake. I'll let Saundra go at the next stop, how does that sound?"
"You will?" AJ tilted his head in confusion. "So why are we going to Prague, anyhow?"
Cleo reached for Saundra's PDA in the cup holder then tapped on the screen with her fingernail. After a moment she smirked then folded her arms. As soon as White pulled up to a fuel pump, she thrust the small device into his face. He craned his head and squinted at the small screen. His eyes widened.
"Now you understand," she snorted with a roll of her eyes. "The Cooper cane is on the move at a high rate of speed. It will probably pass over us in the next five minutes on its way to Prague. Someone plans to use it as the key to the Cooper Vault. They want access to it. You and Saundra put a tracking device on it, which will lead me right to it."
"I see you're well informed, as usual." AJ chuckled. "Plan on using it to pickpocket people, Cleo? C'mon, now… Even with the key to the Cooper Vault, no one even knows where it is located."
"Kane Island," replied Moore with a smirk. "It's in the South Pacific. Two of the Cooper gang members helped to rebuild its defense parameter from the inside of the island to the outside of the vault… Now someone has the key. It'll take quite a person to defeat the traps and defenses but once they best it, all they need is that cane. Didn't you know that Cooper has been shadowed all along?"
"First I've heard of it," replied the Reynard. He shut off the engine and tossed the keys to the baroness then slid out of the vehicle and opened the back door. He untied the bag but there was no squirrel dressed as a chipmunk. He narrowed his eyes and frowned at a mechanical puppet in the burlap bag. Its batteries died over an hour ago, which had left him to believe that Saundra fell asleep; he stood there, staring at the puppet in the bag. "Okay, misdirection – very good, you got me… where is your sister?"
"I'm not really sure," said Cleopatra. "She's either waiting for us on Kane Island by now, or she's already in Prague, checking to make sure the path ahead is clear. So, technically, I've only kidnapped one CIA agent… Either that reduces my sentence by half the time or you're dumber than I thought."
"Either you're really Saundra and you reverted your dye coloration quickly and put in a contact lens… or you've let Cammie go and she stole the cane and took it east on a leer jet."
Cleopatra scowled. "Why do you insist on calling my sister by her ridiculous stage name? Chameleon? What kind of idiot joke is that? I could always see through her cheesy disguises, Jake – chameleon indeed. I'm sure my brother-in-law would appreciate it if I struck you in the face; you should feel so lucky he doesn't know you've been in her pants. Now I bet you don't feel quite so guilty about me not giving your precious Saundra a bathroom break. No, my sister didn't take the staff, either. Fill the tank; we're in a hurry."
AJ just gawked at her for a moment. "All right… can I contact Saundra first? I want …to talk to her, just to be sure."
"You want to be sure we're not the same person, yes?" The baroness snorted softly then cleared her throat. "You'll just have to believe me for right now. You'll find out the honest answer, sooner or later. Let's hurry, we're still several hours from Prague and I have plans to help that girl get her case solved because it helps my mandate."
"Carmelita Fox? You're talking about the Inspector who is betrothed to Sly Cooper, right?"
Cleopatra smirked. "Yes, Carmelita Fox… who else would I be talking about, you moron? Goodness, I cannot believe I slept with you, too. Why can't I find attractive men who are equally intelligent? You have a pretty face and a nice body but I have to wonder if you've ever tried rubbing two brain cells together, even once."
"Touché, Cleo. I let Intel do the thinking. That's why I'm the man of action." Leaving the driver-side door open, he reached for a gas pump and held it up with a slight grin. "See this action right here?"
Baroness Moore rolled her eyes and said, "At any rate, shut your muzzle and get us back on the road, Jake."
Carmelita Fox quirked a brow at the courier in the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder to Penelope and Murray, back in the living room of the Safe House then turned to the courier once more. "Who?"
"Sly Cooper, ma'am. This is a package for him. He is at this address, correct?"
She frowned, studying the man's face for a moment. Carmelita nodded then took the package and looked it over. Finally, she lifted her head and asked, "How did you know he'd be here?"
The courier shrugged and, in his broken attempt at French, told her, "I'm just doing what I'm told and am the only courier at my office that speaks this language." He offered her a smile. She fished out ten Euros then handed them to the courier as a tip. His smile broadened. "Thank you ma'am!" He turned back for his van.
Carmelita shut the door behind herself and turned to the mouse and hippo with a frown. "Sly received a package; someone knows we're here. That's… awkward." A noise upstairs caused her ears to flicker. "Speak of the devil and he appears." She took to the stairs with the package and headed into an empty bedroom. Sly stood in front of an open window and removed his gear. She approached him and pushed the package into his paws with her brows furrowed.
"What's this?"
"Open it," she told him. "The courier just delivered it to you at this address. I guess you really are being shadowed, Ringtail. Open it."
Sly blinked twice then leaned back against the windowsill. He opened the package with his teeth then reached a gloved paw into the wrapping. He pulled out a shiny golden revolver with an eight-round cylinder. The gun, shaped like a small version of his family cane, glistened in the dim illumination from the sunrise in the window. "It's like the ones Tennessee Kid used, but his were both six-shot revolvers… this one holds eight… how strange." He quirked a brow then asked, "It was delivered just now? At six in the morning?"
"Damn straight," said the vixen with her paws on her hips. "And it's illegal to deliver weapons like that; is there a serial number on it? We can find out who it's registered to."
Sly took a moment to inspect it then said, "No number – it looks handcrafted and I'm not sure there ever was a number… I don't see anything, not even something that has been filed off."
"That's odd…" Carmelita took the wrapping from him and peered into it. "There's a letter," she added. She took the small envelope from inside the wrapping paper and opened it. She cleared her throat then read aloud. "It's not your cane but you'll need this all the same. Meet me at the enclosed address but come alone. You don't have much time before sunrise so be prompt. Bring the Thievius Raccoonus – there is something I wish to teach you about the book that you didn't know before. Sincerely, Old Man."
Sly sheathed the short cane on his belt. The 'C' shape hook had a textured grip, used as the gun handle. On the side, someone had carved the initials T.K.C using a sharp object. Sly crossed the room and took the family book from his rucksack. He turned to Carmelita, kissed the side of her face then said, "I'll be back; I know this is a little odd… especially for me, but I need you guys to wait."
"Sly, we have less than twelve hours remaining!"
"Carmelita, there were only three known pistol canes in existence that belonged to Tennessee Kid Cooper. Only two of them were ever found in the family vault. I don't have access to them because my cane is the key. So, either someone has already accessed the vault and sent me one, or this is the missing third gun. He kept one on each hip, and one hidden in his belt at the base of his spine – just in case. I've got to know what this is all about."
Fox frowned and lowered her eyes to the floor for a moment. "Be careful, Sly. They want you to bring the book, come alone and you don't have your cane. It could be a trap."
Sly withdrew the weapon from his belt and checked the chamber. Eight shells filled the revolver cylinder. He glanced back at her and said, "Do you smell a trap?"
"…No," she replied. "No one sends you a gun for protection if they intend to take you out… Just be safe." She lifted her paws and placed them on either side of the small cane-shaped gun. She eased the revolving cylinder back into its place with a click then guided his paws until he returned the weapon to his belt. "I see that it doesn't have a safety feature. Be very careful with it, so that it doesn't go off on your hip. I expect that weapon to have eight shells in it when you return, all right?"
"It will." He offered her a smile, grabbed the wrapping paper, tore off the corner with the return address, and winked at his fiancé. Sly turned back to the window and leapt through it. He knew she stood in the window and watched him leave so he performed a somersault just to show off.
Fifteen minutes later, Cooper stopped in front of the address on the card. He lifted his head and whistled low, impressed by the size of the castle in front of him. The left tower resembled a church's rotunda – like a cathedral. The right tower, rectangular and about four stories tall appeared complete with a large bronze bell. It glowed in the soft morning sunlight which peaked up over the east hills. The main gates, equally impressive, stood almost two stories tall before him. He easily slid through the gap between the massive iron bars and approached the structure with a reverent silence.
"Sly Cooper?" The voice startled him. Cooper whirled around but saw nothing. The voice called again. "Sly Cooper, you're at the wrong door. Come to the rear window on the fourth floor, on the bell tower. See you there." Quiet resumed.
Cooper blinked rapidly then made his way around to the far right end of the property. He looked up the side of the bell tower but could not see any easy way to scale the wall. He searched for a drainage spout then looked for hooks or maintenance latches used for repair scaffolding. "This isn't going to be as easy as I thought," he muttered. Sly removed the handgun from his belt then twirled the short hooked cane. He brought the clawed end to the masonry and, with a slow and steady paw, made his ascent.
He reached the open window near the top of the tower beneath the large bell. He slid in, feet first then dropped to a wooden plank. A thick rope reached from the bell down to the bottom. He placed the short cane into his muzzle, reached out and gave a light tug but the bell didn't move. He furrowed his brows and tugged just a little harder but the bell remained solid. He lifted his head and narrowed his gaze. In the dark, he saw the large metal wand used inside the bell to make it ring – he wondered why it remained silent. Sly shrugged then jumped from the plank to the rope and, yet, the bell never moved. He slid down the thick line with ease; a cloud of dust greeted his feet at the bottom of the tower shaft.
'I know I'm a lightweight but that thing didn't even budge… good for me, though! It was way more fun than taking the stairs!' He blinked out of his reverie and broke into a sprint through the main section of the citadel. The walls were lined with pricy artifacts from all over the world but the chandeliers seemed reminiscent of the American Midwest. They looked out of place in a gothic structure such as this; the steelwork frames would have been better suited for an old saloon. 'I've been in enough museums to know those shouldn't be here,' he thought.
Stairs took him to the second floor. These hallways held artifacts from the early nineteen hundreds. From Thompson machine guns to German and English uniforms, the decorations covered everything from railroad and automobile parts to gear from the First World War. By the end of the hall, he'd reached a picture frame with baseball cards in it. Honus Wagner, Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, Willie Mayes and other baseball greats filled the frame from top to bottom. Sly took the stone staircase up to the third floor.
From the Second World War through to the sixties, the third floor hallway held French Paintings, warfare gear, German vases, An American Apollo spacesuit and many other fantastic artifacts. A picture frame held a tile from a Japanese building. The brass plate read, 'A-BOMB Hiroshima Dome – Floor tile, second of January, 1946.' There were other decorations but Sly didn't recognize them.
On the fourth floor hallway, Sly passed technologically superior decorations that defined the seventies and eighties. An old Cray supercomputer sat in a glass case. It was cylindrical and about three feet high. Filled with hundreds of chips and such, the plate on its display case read, "First computer to reach '100mhz' – comprised of one hundred fifty-five microprocessor components – Obtained on the fourth of April, 1982." There were trinkets and gadgets all along the walls. In a prominent display case, a strange looking contraption, about the size of a watermelon, sat on a stand. The plate read, "Only known prototype – Brilliant Pebbles – Star Wars Defense Program – September ninth, 1987." An adjacent case had the burned out metal lining from a NASA helmet. The plaque read, "Challenger Shuttle – sadly lost in 1986." Sly shuttered.
He continued to the end of the hall. A large room opened up before him. It resembled a living room, complete with a large sofa, loveseat, large screen television and floor rugs. A coffee table had a remote control on it, next to a letter. Sly approached cautiously. In plain black ink, the letter read, "Turn around" in large font. Sly whirled about, coming face to face with a very old man and his walker. The ocelot placed a gnarled old paw on Sly's shoulder and smiled. Cooper realized the man had a plastic tube against his nose, which trailed back over his ears.
"Do I know you?"
The ocelot shook his head slowly. "No, but I know you, Sly. Let me get a good look at you…" His weary old voice crackled. "Did you bring the book?"
"I… yeah," said Cooper, adding, "I mean… yes, Sir. I brought the book." He blinked at the leering old man then asked, "How did you get that revolver? It's a family heirloom."
"You think?" asked the old man. He smiled again. "It was his trick gun; people heard him unload 6 shots, thought he was empty then were shocked when he had two more rounds." His teeth looked white and new, suggesting to Sly that they were dentures. The ocelot cleared his throat then said, "Did you know I'm one hundred fourteen years old? When I was only sixteen, I ran jobs with the son of Tennessee Kid… his name was Sylvester Cooper. He inherited T.C.'s revolvers and became very good with them. Back then, we called him Silver instead of Sylvester, because he moved like a silver bullet. He was the oldest in the gang at the age of thirty-six."
Sly's eyes widened. "You ran with my great-great grandfather?" His eyes lowered to the ocelot's paw. The old man gestured to the sofa and Cooper nodded politely. He moved to the cushions and sat. He then said, "I heard he was one of only a handful of family members who never wrote in the Thievius Raccoonus."
The ocelot nodded and moved to the other end of the sofa. He sat down and left his walker between his right knee and the coffee table. "He never invented a signature move. Clockwerk killed him before he had the chance. The family wondered if your father, Connor, would ever come up with his own move at one point; you were born and he still didn't have his own move. Your grandparents and great grandmother passed away from age before Connor could finish his signature move. The year before his death at the hands of that metal monstrosity, he came up with something very fitting for the times… laser sliding; I'm right, aren't I?"
"He never had the chance to write about it," Sly admitted with a frown. "But he did teach me how to do it in the family vault, in a matter of speaking. I've rarely used the maneuver but I know how to do it."
The little old man frowned as well. "Sylvester was the only Cooper I know of, who never came up with his own move. He became damn good at doing everyone else's moves but… never had his own." He offered his paw to Sly again and said, "I'm Charlie. I was the sidekick… there were only two of us for the first few years… I was a kid but I was pretty damn sharp. I could look at a pile of coins and guesstimate how many; I was never wrong, either. I kept his guns clean and loaded, I saddled his horses and, later, drove. I memorized charts and maps for him, so he didn't have to worry about it. When he died, I put most of his belongings into the hands of his kids and had them put most of his things into the vault. They simply donated them to Tennessee Kid's pile, including the revolver canes. Well, two of them anyhow."
Sly nodded slowly then lowered his eyes. "I never came up with a move, either. I'm trying to think of something good but…"
"Nonsense," said Charlie with a soft chuckle. "You came up with the best damned move of the whole family."
Cooper blinked. "I did?"
"You sure as heck did, young man!" Charlie leaned back in the sofa cushions then shook his head with a smirk. "You figured out how to kill Clockwerk… not once, but twice. Anyone can do a difficult trick once and be lucky… but you perfected it by performing it two times in a row. And now, you're going to do an encore and pull off a hat trick."
Sly gawked at the old man. "I …suppose. But the thing is…"
The ocelot held up his gnarled paw in a half-fist. "…Ya lost your cane. I heard – damn shame, kid. Lucky for you it's here in Prague." He saw Sly's reaction and smiled. "Yeah, being sharp like that is what earned me my keep. I was Silver's bread and butter… He was batman and I was robin. Then batgirl came along… She wasn't quite Yoko Ono Lennon, mind you, but she distracted him. She became his wife, gave him some strapping young sons and daughters but couldn't get it together. She was trying to mother those pups and keep up with a master thief. Clockwerk snatched her when she wasn't paying attention and used her as bait to catch Silver."
Cooper shifted his weight. "What happened… rather, how did it happen?"
Charlie face faulted. "We had a heist, here in Prague; this old building was just an abandoned manor at the time. We used it as our Safe House. She disappeared and Clockwerk sent out a challenge and an address. We geared up to get her back but it was a trap. That metallic bastard killed them both – I got away with nothing more than survivor's guilt. I quit the business and became a fulltime parent. They were my godchildren; I had to do my best to keep them below radar. It was a sad ending and when your father died, a lot of animosity towards that owl came back to me. I don't have much longer to live and, after you defeated Clockwerk the first time, I thought I could finally die in peace."
Sly blinked rapidly. He remained quiet, listening to the old man talk.
Charlie continued. "But those pieces showed up, because they didn't melt in the lava. When you were captured, here in Prague, I used the Internet to send that tortoise-kid information to help him out. He was out in the Haitian jungle and I did my best to lead him all the way here. I got him a little information on the detention center. I even told him where a tank could be found… Your driver, Murray, was pretty good behind the controls if I remember correctly. I watched on as you and that vixen cop destroyed Clockwerk a second time. I thought that was finally the last of that thing. Make it count, this time."
"I will," said Cooper. He tilted his head and asked, "Where is the cane? I thought for sure it was destroyed…"
"Buried, but not destroyed. I have my sources, young man… that cane is here. One of my Newsy boys called me less than an hour ago. He works at the airport in the security department. I sent that courier to your Safe House as quickly as I could. Anyhow, I'm not sure where it is, other than the fact that it's here in Prague, right now. One more thing… Did you really propose to that fox cop?"
Sly nodded. The old man folded his arms over his frail torso and asked, "Why a vixen? Call me old fashion, but what's wrong with finding a nice raccoon girl?"
"I, uh… To be honest…"
Charlie held his boney fingers up. "I know, kid… you love her. Fair enough – but be careful – she's a cop, y'know? Anyhow, I…" The elderly animal froze and lifted his ears. "Someone is here." He stood up and reached for his walker then came to his feet. "Either you got sloppy and someone followed you, or I've got some punk intruder breaking and entering… Wouldn't that be karma?"
Sly stood up and moved around the other end of the sofa but Charlie placed a paw on his elbow and said, "Cool your jets, kiddo. Let's get some information on these slimeballs, first. I've turned almost a dozen teenaged would-be amateur thieves into real talent by catching them here… After Clockwerk killed Silver and his wife, I stayed here… this was our Safe House and, yet, it was the last place Clockwerk would look for the Cooper children, because he has profiled us as the type to move on… He thinks the Cooper line borders on nomadic. I've been in this old manner for a very long time. I've raised a lot of wayward kids here… It's what I do."
"I don't hear anything," Sly replied.
"I do; I know this place inside and out. I heard a noise downstairs. Come with me." He made his way out of the living room and Sly followed. They carefully descended the stone stairwell to the third floor and walked down the hall to the stairs at the far end. "I've lived so long because this place was designed with a stairwell at the end of each hallway… It keeps you in shape, that's for sure." He took Sly's arm and went down the stairs to the second floor. Once there, he said, "I asked you to bring the Cooper family book because I wanted to show you something in T.C.'s entry… he invented that rail slide but he never thought it was good enough. We've had acrobats sliding down staircase handrails for ages – he amended his technique to something far more grand but wrote it using the ink of a European alchemist… It's invisible, young man. I'll show you how to read it later, after we find out what's going on downstairs."
"Are you sure you're not hearing things? The noise would have had to travel a very long way in a carpeted hallway – I heard nothing and…"
Charlie snorted with disdain. "Hush up; I'm old but I'm not senile. My ears are sharper now than they were over thirty years ago. I heard something. They're being quieter than some young teenage thug… We're not dealing with a proletarian by the sound of things. This could be serious. Don't worry, I'll protect you if it's something sinister." He grinned at Sly.
"Proletarian?"
"…A recreational thief. Whoever this is, they're a professional – they're too quiet now. Kids make all sorts of noise… heavy footfalls, loud breathing, and you can smell the adrenaline a mile away. No, whoever it is, they're as quiet as you were, when you got in ten minutes ago." The ocelot moved swiftly for his age. The small plastic wheels on the front of the walker made it easier to go.
Sly watched him as the two continued down the hall. "Man, you really book on that thing, old timer." The raccoon watched as the old man moved to the left side of the staircase. He went to the right side and waited in the corner, opposite of the elderly man. Several moments passed. Sly opened his mouth to argue what the old man heard but before the raccoon could get a word out the ocelot shushed him with a silent gesture.
A tall, lanky Czechoslovakian wolfhound walked through the concrete arch with a silenced handgun drawn. Charlie drew back his gnarled old paw and thrust fingertips into the unsuspecting man's throat. The canine collapsed to the floor, dropping the gun on the carpet. He reached for his throat, gagging so loud his voice created an echo further down the hall. Charlie wrapped his free paw around the man's hair and held him down while shaking his other paw.
"You got him pretty good," Sly said, adding, "Are you okay? You didn't break your fingers did you?"
"I don't have osteoporosis, kiddo; I have arthritis… different beast." Charlie lowered his head and asked, "What brings you to my house with that fine looking forty-five caliber pistol, punk?"
The wolfhound struggled to breathe. A smile tugged at the corner of the ocelot's wrinkly muzzle. "Calm down, you're in shock like a fish out of water… I didn't break yer neck, ya lil' prick. I just gotcha in a sensitive place. Calm down and take a breath through yer nose, ya shmuck." He tugged on the canine's hair and then said, "C'mon, macaroni ears… get up on your knees." He guided the man up off the floor and continued to chide him. "That's right, blockhead, up-see-daisy. I espy your noisy footfalls from a mile away, ya bum." He placed the walker on the weapon to ensure the man wouldn't be able to pick it up.
"Hey, you're pretty sharp – you got him down in one hit," Sly said, adding, "but the Thirties called… they want their insults back."
Charlie looked up at the raccoon and furrowed a bushy gray brow. "And what insults are those?"
Cooper chuckled. "Blockhead? Macaroni ears? I hope little old men didn't 'talk dirty' to little old ladies like that sixty or seventy years ago."
The ocelot replied with a smirk. "And sixty or seventy years ago, I was still older than you are now. So hush up." He turned back towards the struggling gunman and added, "Our friend, here, should have his breath back any second and he's about to tell us what's going on and why he broke in with a silenced forty-five."
The Czech native drew a shallow breath and muttered, "Sly Cooper… price on his head." He wheezed then said, "Need… my gun… to stop…" The man broke into a fit of coughing.
Charlie glanced up at Sly and smiled. "Ah, finally, one of the bad guys emerges from his hole. The plot thickens – it's about time; it gives you a clue to track down so you can figure out what's going on, who has your cane and why they'd want it. It sounds like this bum is trying to cash in on the price someone put on your head. I'm surprised… I had no idea you even had a bounty on ya'. He probably wants to stop you from getting your cane back or from completing your current job, whatever it may be."
Sly's eyes widened. "The tenth piece is in the vault!" Cooper brought his right palm to his forehead. "By saving Carmelita, I lost my cane during the building collapse. I thought nothing of it… if anything, I figured it keeps people from retrieving the tenth artifact but… now I've inadvertently given away the key to the vault. This is really bad."
Suddenly, the wolfhound jerked his elbow back into the walker, snatched the gun in his other paw and pointed it at Cooper. He fired the weapon just as the ocelot smacked him in the back of the head with the boxy metal contraption. One of the walker's wheels broke off and tumbled down the hall. The gunman spilled over on the floor in silence with his face down.
The raccoon blinked then reached to rub his ears. "I could hear the hiss of a bullet; good thing he had a silencer or we'd both be deaf." He felt something wet and brought his paw down to inspect it. "Holy crap," he said, seeing the blood on his fingertips. "He clipped the tip of my ear!" A loud thump startled both Sly and Charlie into silence. Both turned to face a slumped figure in the corner behind one of the display cases.
Cooper touched the tip of his ear and inspected the blood again then moved towards the shadowy figure in the corner. "What in the world…?" He knelt down besides a slender body clad in a leather cat suit. The person wore a ninja-style mask over their face and lay in a puddle of their own blood. They held a dagger in each paw; Sly used his feet to kick each weapon away then waved for Charlie. "Look at this, old timer. They're still alive, too." He tilted his head, following the curvature of the body with his eyes. "Androgynous; I can't tell if it's a guy or a girl."
"Take off the mask."
Sly knelt down and closed his fingertips around the perpetrator's mask. He gave it a stern tug then frowned. "Female weasel. She's still conscious but she's lost a lot of blood." He paused to check her body then reported, "She got it in the right lung. She's not going to last very long."
Charlie ambled over to Sly and the wounded woman. He placed the wobbly walker over her stomach, using the left and right side to pin down her forearms. "Who're you working for? Clockwerk?"
The woman's eyes opened and she groaned. "That idiot worked for us but now he's gone rogue." She tilted her head to the side and peered up at the face of her intended target. "I've always been jealous of Carmelita Fox. I was jealous of Karla Chintzy. I wanted you for myself, Sly Cooper. Yet, I didn't even flinch when ordered to kill you. You should feel lucky that Donovan's cult following remembers and honors the truce you had with him. I thought they disbanded after his death – apparently I was mistaken."
"She's in shock," Charlie replied. His eyes flitted from Sly to the woman and he frowned. "Shall I call an ambulance for you?" In response, the woman shook her head 'no' then sighed. A soft gurgle accompanied the sound of her breath. The elderly man continued to lean on his walker, keeping her forearms pinned to the ground. "Check her for weapons, Sly. Assassins usually don't give up just because they're on their death bed. I don't want her dying here, because it attracts unwanted attention to my home."
Sly did as he was asked and frisked her arms, legs and torso. He found a pair of sais in holsters beneath her. He withdrew a knife from her sleeve and a tube with darts on her left leg. Cooper reached for the zipper to her cat suit, just beneath her jaw.
"Don't," she whispered. "I'm not exactly decent beneath it."
Charlie placed a paw on Sly's shoulder. "Just frisk for weapons; if you unzip that thing, she'll die sooner. It looks pretty tight on her; I imagine it adds pressure to her wound."
Sly lifted his eyes to the old man then lowered them back to the assassin. "She'll drown before she dies of blood loss. She has a lot of blood in her right lung. If we don't get her out of this, she'll die of asphyxiation before she drowns. I'm trying to keep her alive – the more she talks, the more we know."
"You'd better be a gentleman," she muttered between shallow breaths. She frowned then added, "Why don't you just take me out to a back alley and let me die there, hmm?"
Sly unzipped the front of the leather bodysuit and pulled the right flap aside. He pushed his right index finger against the entry point of her wound, ignoring her hiss of pain. Cooper pushed his other paw beneath her, down under the back of her suit and felt for an exit wound. He plugged it with his fingers then said, "Clothes like this can't possibly be comfortable, lady."
She hissed in pain again then muttered, "The interior has a lining so it doesn't chafe. Just get me out of here. I can live with one lung, dammit. I just…"
Charlie cut her off. "If she thinks she can pull through this, then she's still dangerous. Especially to you, Sly."
Cooper glanced back up at the old man and frowned. "I can feel old scar tissue on her chest and back; she's taken bullets in the torso before… feels like..." he paused then said, "Two other times, same side."
"Three," she grumbled. "I took one beneath the heart three years ago. Oh, and furthermore, he wasn't carrying a forty-five, you senile old goat; if he was, I'd be dead and Mister Cooper wouldn't have an ear." She cut her attention to Sly then said, "You'd better not have any blood-related diseases. You have blood from your ear on your paw and now you're sticking your fingers in my gun wounds. If you do, I'm going to tear you apart."
Sly cocked a brow then furrowed the other. "For a dispassionate, cold blooded assassin, you sure don't strike me as…"
"Just tell me if you're clean or not," she snapped. "I know you're a Casanova – it's your personality trait. Are you clean, raccoon?"
Sly glanced about furtively then leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I'm a virgin, lady. Outgoing doesn't equate to promiscuity. I've got your blood on my fingers, now… maybe I should be asking you the same thing."
"Obsessively so," she replied. "My body is a temple."
Sly canted his head and sat up with a frown. "For a woman who worries so much about disease and cleanliness, you don't seem very concerned about lead poisoning." He looked back up at Charlie and told him, "She's right, old timer. This hole doesn't feel very big; are you sure it was a forty-five round?"
Charlie glanced back at the gun on the ground, several feet from the unconscious canine. He turned back to Sly and frowned. "It looks like one from here; I know my guns – I worked with the son of Tennessee Kid Cooper, he was a crack-shot pistol marksman. He was a sharpshooter of the wild west, young man."
"Just check it; don't worry, she's unarmed."
The ocelot frowned then removed the walker from her forearms. Once he lifted the rectangular object from across her stomach and wrists, she gasped as though she surfaced from a deep swimming pool. Charlie glanced back at her then smirked. "Faker." He moseyed over to the weapon then kicked it over to Cooper. "I've got arthritis in my lower back, kiddo. You pick it up."
Sly face-faulted. "I'm using both my paws to plug her wounds so she doesn't bleed to death in your home, Sir. Not only that…"
Sly found himself interrupted. The woman snatched the weapon off the floor and pointed it in the raccoon's face. He froze and Charlie did the same. She smirked then said, "The safety is off, the weapon is cocked. The old man says it looks like a forty-five… he's right. It looks and feels like one. There's only one way to find out what kind of ammunition this weapon uses." She smiled in a display of brilliant white incisors. "This is too perfect. I'll kill you with this gun, then the old man… and let Donovan Loupe's little fanatic take the fall. The police will see that his death coincided to your last visit to Prague, assume his motivation was revenge, then write it off."
"There's just one problem with your theory," said Sly. "Your blood is on the wall, floor and carpet. Aren't you types supposed to vanish without a trace? You'll need a power washer just to get it out of the grout not to mention…"
"Shut up!" she shouted. Everyone froze. The woman ground her teeth together then said, "You're right. I'd need a professional cleaner to get away without a trace. My employer is paying me for stealth, so the only way I can accomplish that is to kill you down by the river and let a fisherman find you." She turned to the ocelot and said, "And you'll just have to disappear, since you're known as a hermit anyhow. That will buy me the time I need to erase any trace of my presence here." She turned the weapon on Charlie and said, "Help me up, or I'll shoot the old man where he stands."
Sly gritted his teeth but complied with her request. He kept his fingers in the bullet wounds to the best of his ability while helping the woman to her feet. Looking to stall, he asked, "Let's get you a t-shirt or something, so you're covered. It's cold outside and you can't go around half-exposed in front of three men. I'm sure Charlie has some shirts or a sweater upstairs."
She thought about it then nodded. "Old man, you take point; we'll follow you. Go."
Charlie turned his damaged walker around then muttered. "With a broken wheel, it's not going to work very damn well in the carpet. C'mon, this way."
The woman rolled her eyes, keeping the weapon trained on the old man. "Whose fault is that for putting a strip of carpet in the middle of your hallways? Even worse, you have stone flooring on the far left and right of the carpeting, by the walls. You should have put in tile, marble or wood panel floors."
Charlie began making his way up the hall. He waved his left paw back at her in a dismissive fashion. "Women always think they know better. Every woman is suddenly an expert in interior decoration; even the ones who are contract killers. Jeeze… I really miss the good old days; everything before the 'Women's Rights Movement' and all that hoopla."
"Shooting you will be a pleasure," she sneered. She caught Sly's facial expression in the corner of her eye then said, "But killing you will be fun… for us both, maybe. …Hmm, no, not for you; just for me." She offered him a smirk then returned her attention to the elderly man up ahead. "Hurry up, you geezer. The only reason I've not shot you yet is because I think I can pull through this. If you take too long and I bleed to death, I'll take you down with me. Now move!"
"Hush up," said Charlie. "I ain't no minute-man anymore so you better stop sassing me."
"Just hurry," she retorted.
Charlie made it to the staircase and ascended them slower than normal. He muttered under his breath just loud enough for Sly and the assassin to hear him. "I'll tell ya, these young girls need to learn respect in this day and age… One of these days, the wrong woman is gonna say the wrong thing t' me and… pow! Zam-boom; straight to the moon with'er!" He took half-steps across the flat panel, halfway up the stairs, then turned about and headed back up the second half, to the third floor hallway. "Well, we're more than half way now, kids. Don't make me turn this-here car around and take us right back home."
The woman draped an arm around Sly's shoulders but kept the weapon in her other paw trained on Charlie's back. Under her breath so that only Sly could hear, she said, "I'm going to lose my temper with that old bastard."
Sly simply sighed. His ear itched where the bullet clipped the tip and he was walking with one paw on her back and one, awkwardly, over her modest bosom. He turned his head to her and said, "Look, it'll be a lot easier if I just pick you up and carry you. I have to admit, I really don't feel right with a paw on your chest like this – I don't even know your name, for goodness sake."
"Do it; if you make any false moves, I'll plug him then you." She narrowed her gaze.
Sly said, "Keep going Charlie, we'll be right behind you; I'm just going to carry her, so go on – we'll catch up." He withdrew his paws from her body, ripped off his right sleeve then his left. He tied them together, end to end, then wrapped it around her torso and tied the other side. Once her wounds were somewhat covered, he put his arm behind her head, dipped his other beneath her knees and lifted her. "Out of curiosity, did you mean what you said back there… about being jealous of Carmelita and Karla?"
"Like the old man said – I was in shock." She hooked one paw around Sly's neck and extended her other to keep the weapon pointed at Charlie's back, further up the hallway. "…Yes, I meant it," she admitted in a quiet voice. "My name isn't important – just call me 'Eleven'. It's my identification number in the agency."
Sly tilted his head. "Is everyone an agent these days? Whatever happened to being freelance?" Silence. He frowned then asked, "How did you know of Carmelita and Karla? I don't even know you, so it's kinda strange that you know about me."
"I worked security detail for The Sire." Her flat tone suggested there was more to her story. But after a moment, she offered another piece of the puzzle and told him, "Sire's superior ordered your death."
"Sire had a boss? I thought he was the top guy?" asked Cooper. They reached the next staircase and he ascended them slowly so as not to catch up to Charlie too soon. He hoped the old man would get to the Living Room quickly while he kept her attention distracted. With any luck, he prayed the old man would have a plan.
She glanced up into Cooper's eyes and explained, "Everyone answers to someone in exchange for power, wealth, importance or whatever it is their superior can offer."
"What about a CEO?" asked Sly, trying to keep her mind off Charlie.
"He answers to the stockholders, Cooper. If he doesn't satisfy the clients of his business, he'll lose everything."
"I don't answer to anyone," he said with a little measure of triumph in his voice.
"Yes you do," she said. Her voice sounded a little weary, as though she was growing tired from blood loss. "You answer to Carmelita, you answer to your friends, you answer to the imaginary expectations you think your ancestors have of you… and, right now, you answer to me because I am the one with the gun."
"Fair enough," said Sly, feeling just a little humbled. "What happens if you break the chain of command? You only get paid if you kill me, right?"
"I'm paid salary," she said with a thin smirk. "I volunteered for this job because I wanted the opportunity to have control over you. I'm obsessively jealous, just like I'm obsessive over cleanliness and hygiene. If I don't succeed, someone else will. Sire employed people from all walks of life; government officials, political figures, you name it. He muscled his way to becoming the leader of Interpol in order to find Carmelita Fox. He knew if he found her, he'd find you. She destroyed Clockwerk's Hate Chip, so he wanted her dead. But, more importantly, he wanted you. His superior needs something your family owns… you have to die – it's an executive decision."
"So I take it you have 'agents' in government intelligence agencies," he said, taking her down the top hallway. Up ahead, Charlie passed through the archway to his living room. Sly wanted to keep her distracted to give the old man time to plan.
"Several Intelligence communities were too thorough with their background checks. I couldn't get hired by a Czech agency because they found that I have ties to people who were being watched… Karla Chintzy was my training coordinator last year. She was being watched by the CIA and several other groups. That ruined my chances… The CIA loves to spy on us. They constantly try to insert people into our ranks to keep us from succeeding with our primary mission… They know more about us than we'd like, but they can't do anything because we're not represented by any country or form of government. We're considered a religious cult because of the way in which we wish to change the world."
Sly kept his eyes on hers, to make sure he had her total attention now. "I've heard all about it. That's why Clockwerk went rogue. It's self preservation; he doesn't want to give up his existence so you guys can use his new body."
"We let him live – we gave him a new body. He's greedy and wants the larger one back because Steven made it indestructible. He wants to be invincible and now he's angry. He feels betrayed – he left us and now seeks revenge. What a fool."
"Well, instead of killing me, you guys should be asking for my help."
Her nose wrinkled as if in disgust. "What for?"
"Hello – think Miss Eleven," Sly chuckled, nearing the entrance to the living room area. "I'm the only guy to have defeated Clockwerk… not once but twice."
"He's in a body we made," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. "We know its weaknesses and don't require your help."
Sly tilted his head, looking to milk her of information. "So that means your stalkers, the CIA, has some sort of knowledge about his weaknesses, too?"
"They stole a copy of the plans, yes," she began. She paused to cough several times then said, "But a Russian KGB agent infiltrated the CIA and stole them. The KGB felt that Russia should be the one to take down Clockwerk, if he makes trouble… He lives in their country, after all."
"I thought the KGB disbanded," said Cooper.
"More like… downsized," she said. She struggled to keep her eyes open at this point. "The only reason I'm holding this conversation is so I don't faint," she admitted. Her speech was beginning to slur. "I have Epinephrine in my medical bag; it's out in the car. I… I need that soon. Wh… why are we going to the top floor again?"
Sly knew she was struggling now which boosted his confidence and gave him more hope. "We're going to clean your wound and get you a shirt, remember?"
"…Right," she nodded almost drunkenly. Then, out of the blue, she told him, "I'm a virgin, too. I've always put my career first but when I saw your abilities, I was impressed. You're just a fantasy, though. You're not a guy I could marry because you'd be dead before an anniversary so…" She blinked twice, cleared her throat then craned her head to keep an eye on the old ocelot. She acted as though she'd just woken up from a daydream and became fully alert again. Just as Sly entered the living room, Charlie disappeared into the bedroom to get the girl a shirt. She glanced back at Cooper and asked, "What? I'm fading – I can't focus… and if I feel I'm starting to lose control of this situation, I will start shooting."
Sly blinked. "I see you just got your second wind, Eleven."
The woman glared at Cooper. "How did you know my designation?"
Cooper realized that she mustn't have been paying full attention to the conversation. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment then said, "We were talking so that we could keep you from fainting, and you told me to call you Eleven."
She wiggled her legs and bit and said, "Put me down. I can't think straight right now – tell the old man to hurry; I need supplies in my car, outside." She slid out of Cooper's arms and wobbled on the floor then pointed the gun in Cooper's face. "Okay, new change of plan. You go out and get it for me. You've got exactly two minutes to get back here or I'll fill that old man with more holes than…"
Sly held his paws up. "Say no more. Is it unlocked?"
She narrowed her gaze. "Look at my suit, you idiot. Do I look like I keep car keys on me? Besides, even if I did, I would hope that a real master thief wouldn't care about keys."
Cooper groaned. He wanted to bring the palm of his paw to his face but since they were both covered with blood, he decided against it. "If I had the keyless remote, I could push the button and look for the car with the blinking lights. All right, lady, fine – you don't have your keys on you… which car is it?"
She glared at him. "The one parked by the main gate, right out front. Two minutes; if you're not back here, that old man is toast. It's a black vinyl bag in the front seat. I'll be timing you."
The raccoon broke into a sprint. He headed for the nearest window and disappeared through it. She watched him and waited until he was gone then she headed for the bedroom with the gun drawn. "Where are you, old man? Any shirt will do; it doesn't have to be something special. Hurry it up!"
"Hey!" shouted the old man from the other side of the doorway. "What did I tell you about that backtalk? I like a little spunk in my preference of women but not when she's got a flip mouth! I'm getting' yer shirt, so just hush!" He secretly frowned, hoping Sly would hurry. He didn't exactly have a plan at this point and hoped that Cooper had an idea about what to do next. He glanced around the bedroom, looking for any object that could be used to take her down but nothing came to him. He approached the dresser and sighed.
"What's going on?" she said, stepping into the doorway. She pointed the gun at the old man as if expecting an answer.
"In all the excitement, I forgot to take my pills, half an hour ago." He reached for a plastic case, which had all natural vitamins in each of the compartments used to separate dosage into each day of the week. He gave the plastic rectangular case a gentle shake so all the vitamins rattled inside of it. "See? I'm old; I need my pills," he lied.
"Could you get me a cup of water from the bathroom? It's the next room over."
She narrowed her eyes. "You keep cups in a bathroom?"
"Plastic Dixie cups," he replied. He wanted her to turn her back so he could go for the revolver he kept in his sock drawer. "Hurry, before Sly comes back. I don't exactly like people knowing I have to take all these pills – it makes me feel inadequate," he added. An expert liar, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she believed him. The problem was, she didn't leave. "Well?"
"You stupid old man," she said with a tired sigh. "I'm going to kill you both anyhow, remember? Do you really think I care if you take your pills one last time? Just hush and get me a shirt or I'll shoot you now."
"Who says I'm going to keep doing what you say? You've already told me I'm going to die anyhow."
"Because," she said with a smirk. "Part of you believes that you and Cooper will come out of this alive. So, you're going to keep doing what I say to stay alive as long as you possibly can. If you don't behave, I'll kill you now then it's too late. I can see the hope in your eyes. I own that hope; you do what I say or I'll pull the trigger this instant… that's how it works."
"Fine," he muttered. The old man opened the third drawer down and pulled out a plain white t-shirt. "Here, ya hussy. Get dressed; only a jezebel goes without wearin' undergarments."
"Shut your mouth, old man," she said. She approached him cautiously then snatched the t-shirt from his paw. "Your little friend had better hurry. He's only got a minute left."
Without his cane, Sly had less options. Using the short golden hook in his belt to ascend the bell tower, again, would take too long. He slipped back through the main gate with the medical bag in his right paw. The morning sun peeked up in the east, lifting from the horizon and gothic skyline. He approached the front door, left ajar by one of the other intruders. He broke into a hard run and took the first set of stairs. On the second floor, the first thing he noticed was the splattered blood in the corner. He didn't see the body of the Czech but didn't slow to search around, either.
Cooper ran, full speed, to the next staircase and took each step two at a time. He barreled down the third hallway and up the next set of stone stairs. On the fourth floor, he shouted, "I'm back; don't go doing anything irrational, Eleven! I've got it, here!" He continued through the top floor and came to a skidding halt in the living room. He looked up and saw her in the bedroom doorway with a white t-shirt and the bottom of the tight bodysuit that still clung to her legs.
She approached him, snatched the medical bag, unzipped it then shoved it into Sly's arms. With her free paw, she rummaged through the pack and pulled out the Epinephrine. "Put the bag on the floor and prepare this syringe, Cooper." She handed him the small package. He did as he was told and opened the plastic wrapper with the aid of his teeth. He took the plastic cap off of the needle and handed it to her, plunger first. "Put your paw on my arm and squeeze." She put the gun against his forehead to ensure his cooperation.
Cooper complied; he took her left arm in both paws and squeezed tightly. She pushed the plunger into her skin, just beneath his paws and mashed her thumb down on the plastic end. The adrenaline rushed into her body; she jerked her arm away from his grasp then gritted her teeth. "Listen, I'm tired of playing games with you two. Stealth is part of my job but guess what? No one has my blood on file, so it's a risk I'll take. I'm done with you two… it's time to end this."
She snatched the collar of his sleeveless sweater, pulled him into a forced kiss then shoved him back against the backrest of the sofa. "Sorry it couldn't have been something a little more pleasurable before I kill you but it's gotta be this way for a reason."
Sly blinked again. His gaze shifted to the old man in the bedroom doorway. Charlie had a Colt Peacemaker in his right paw. Cooper carefully placed his palms against the sofa on either side of his hips. "Look, you're about to kill me; aren't you supposed to tell me who is behind all of this before you pull the trigger? Don't worry, it's not as cliche as everyone makes it out to be."
She saw the raccoon's eyes shift slightly. Eleven pivoted on her heel and pointed the weapon at Charles then pulled the trigger. The silenced weapon bucked in her palm with incredible force and the round struck Charlie's revolver. The weapon flew from his grip, leaving the old man to gape. She grinned then said, "I didn't intend to shoot your gun out of your paw but… so much the better." She saw the old man's eyes shift then spun back towards Sly, just as he was pulling out the cane-shaped revolver from his belt. She used the handle of the pistol to strike the thief in his snout.
"You two telegraph everything with your eyes. That's it… both of you get on your knees and we'll do this execution style. Get down, NOW!" She pushed the silencer barrel against Sly's forehead. "Don't even think about moving anywhere but to that floor." She knelt slowly, picked up the short cane from the floor then stood back up. Not realizing it was really a gun, she said, "Another cane? This one looks shorter than the key to the vault." She followed Sly until he was kneeling then stood back up, keeping her gun on his forehead. She saw his eyes shift again, staring at something on her right. "How many times do I have to tell you, Cooper…?" She began to turn to the right and said, "Your eyes telegraph every move made in this room."
She glanced back at Charlie, who still stood in the doorway. His nose twitched beneath the plastic breathing tube; his silvery whiskers flickered.
From off to her left, opposite of where Sly chose to gaze, the Czechoslovakian wolfhound struck her in the back of her head with a shovel. "Telegraph THIS!" The American military spade, taken from one of the World War displays downstairs, sang like a tuning fork. It met the weasel's head with a resounding metal 'clang'. She dropped the gun and the cane then wavered slowly to the left. She reached her paws to her head, struggling to stay on her feet.
"Resilient little thing, aren't you?" he said, lifting the shovel again.
Sly held his paws out. "Wait, don't kill her," he said, picking up the revolver and the silenced pistol. He stood up slowly, keeping both guns trained on her. "She just had a shot of adrenaline… she's absolutely amped right now."
"Don't break that army banjo," called Charlie. "I'm serious; if you break the hinges on that folding spade, I'll break your fingers!"
The dazed woman buried her palm in Sly's chest. He tumbled backwards over the sofa's backrest, across the cushions and onto the coffee table. She whirled around and slapped the shovel out of the other man's paw then kicked him in his left kneecap. The canine collapsed to the ground with a groan but, before he could stand up, she brought her knee into his face.
She pivoted on her heel and faced the ocelot with fiery eyes. She took one full step toward him then collapsed on the floor. Face down and silent, the weasel lay sprawled out on the plush carpet; her heavy breathing signified her state of unconsciousness. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandage, turning the t-shirt red on her back.
Both Sly and the canine sat up, dazed and groaning from the intensity of her last attack. Cooper eased off the coffee table, knocking the remote control and paper letter to the floor. He replaced them the way he found them and peered over the sofa. "How'd you take her down?"
Charlie shrugged. "Delayed reaction to the shovel, maybe?"
The Czech wolfhound reached for his bruised knee then got to his feet and said, "Either that or," he trailed off, speaking in a thick Russian-sounding accent. "Perhaps adrenaline caused her heart to race… and she fainted from lack of blood." He reached a paw to his neck, still in pain from Charlie's neck jab, earlier.
"Listen guys," said Sly. He cleared his throat. "I'm in a hurry. I came here because of that cryptic message but, I only have so many hours left before Clockwerk's next attack. I've got to find his body and dismantle it before that thing comes looking for me."
The ocelot favored his right paw where Eleven shot the revolver from his grip. "Well get that book out and I'll show you what I was talking about earlier," said Charlie. He approached Cooper and glanced over at the other man. "And who are you? We thought you were here to attack Sly – you were pretty damn noisy, kid."
"I followed her." The canine nodded to the motionless woman on the floor. "I couldn't let her kill Mister Cooper. I… thought I was being quiet; strange that you heard me but had no idea she was here."
Charlie shrugged gingerly and nudged the woman with his toe. "That's because she is a professional, young man." He pointed to the war shovel on the ground and said, "Pick that up, fold it at the hinge, and put it back where ya found it. Or I'll chop ya's right in the gizzard again."
The wolfhound nodded and picked up the metal shovel. He left the room without a further word. This left Charlie alone with Sly. The raccoon fished out the book, strapped down against his body, beneath his shirt. He opened up to the section on rail sliding, written in the handwriting of Tennessee Kid Cooper. "Here you go."
"Now, pay attention," said Charlie. He took the book and walked across the living room to another door on the far wall. He opened it and walked into the kitchen. He waved for Sly to follow then opened the freezer. He took several ice cubes, put them into a nearby plastic bag then pressed the cold Ziploc of cubes against the page. Ghostly gray letters appeared in a blank spot at the top of the page. "This little lesson will add a whole new dimension to that rail slide, kid. He called it the rail gun. If ya do it right, you can take off like a damn rocket as soon as you set foot on a track. Now, listen up…"
omg long author's note for my long hiatus
OHNOEZ
I made you ALL a fresh cookie for coming back to read my story... but... but I eated it! (sad face)
A/N: I'm sorry it's taken so long! Anyhow, I've had a lot happen in the last 30 days… I plan to keep going and write chapter 14 next. Thanks for reading!
By the way, This wolfhound is one of the guys who worked for Donovan in Lament of Carmelita. I've not yet decided on a name for him. Also, Eleven isn't going to be a main character… she's just going to be a segue into finding out who the bad guys are, finally.
:D
IF you're still reading this storyLet's see a show of hands! PMs, email, feedback/reviews, anything you want. I just wanna see if anyone is left after my long hiatus!
PS:
Fun: Does anyone have a guess as to what kind of gun that Czech wolfhound brought to the fight? It wasn't a typical forty-five cal. It was the size of one, so it's not a twenty-two, either. I'll give you a very slight hint for anyone that's willing to wager a guess… it doesn't fire typical bullets. They don't know it yet, but the silencer barrel is an extension of the weapon itself… Also, Charlie hasn't checked his revolver yet but when he does, he'll note that there's a HOLE clean through the metal pistol, through his wall, all the way to the outside… Equally, the gun left a hole in the wall from where Eleven was shot. …More on that weapon later!
Now we've gotta find Sly's cane, Clockwerk's body and information on who is trying to kill Sly. Now would be a good time to seek out the help of those secret agent guys, huh?
One last thing: I have a LOT of inconsistencies in this story. First of all, let me apologize for that. SECOND of all, I made a list of the big loopholes and plan to fix them. I spent this past week re-reading Spy Cooper. I know a lot of you like it, but let me just tell ya'… It's awful.
If you're the curious type, here is the list:
The plot line is all over the place, the setting changes in every chapter and sometimes multiple times in a single chapter… It rushes around like a Spanish bull but it's like I forgot to board off the running path and the bull went down a back alley and deviated from its running path.
Also, it's plagued with dozens of loopholes and mistakes. Loopholes involving Clockwerk compared to my previous story, loopholes for characters (I call Saundra Moore, aka Cammie 'Chameleon', every name but the correct one… I call her "Sasha" from chapter… like… 4 through 10 or something, then in chapter 12, I call her Sandra and Sandi, without the 'u'… it should be saUndra and AJ should be calling her CAMMIE. What a brain fart.
Also, Sly got clipped by a bullet in chapter 8… but he doesn't act like it when Carmelita gets his shirt off in chapter 9, nor in chapter 11 in the empty volunteer rescue squad firehouse. Carmelita was with Agent Maris Johnson in Chapter 9, but randomly leaves him without me writing a scene for it in chapter 10! Let's see, what else… Saundra Moore is MARRIED to an E9 in the Navy, in chapter 2, but she's scrumping with AJ in chapter 12, during a stakeout, which is something Cleo admitted to doing when talking to Carmelita, haha. AJ is a hoe.
In chapter 6, I have a word redundancy issue concerning the details of Carmelita seeing Clockwerk… I use the word "chains" about 11 or 12 times in just a few short paragraphs… yikes. I write Carmelita's paw coloration in chapter 11 as "chocolate" when she's digging herself out… She wears gloves and most vixens have black or dark-fur coloration paws and eartips but… I'm not sure Carmelita does, now that I think about it. Plus there is a million spelling and punctuation errors throughout.
So, I'm going to do something time consuming… I'm going to FIX chapter 1 through 12 because I went through the printed version with a red pen and made a LOT of notations. I don't know WHEN this will happen, but I'll get it together and make it as tight as possible… I prided myself on how I had very few loopholes in Lament of Carmelita… this story needs to be just as good! Right now, I don't even know what's going ON with this plot… it's deviated completely from my original intentions of Sly being a government Spy. Now it's back to saving the world from the same crap in Lament of Carmelitalmao. Is it me or do my stories spiral violently out of control? xD
THIS STORY IS OUT OF CONTROL! I got that way with Lament… over excited, over religious, over mythological… then I brought it back to earth… but only after time travel and everything else…
It's time to bring THIS story back to earth! It's time I try and pay attention to this story instead of letting it get crazy. Everything AFTER chapter 9 is a complete deviation of my original intention… so… 9 chapters in the RIGHT direction, 3 in the WRONG direction…
I had NO IDEA what I was going to do with THIS chapter… I spent 3 days just… thinking of stuff. I also played a little Halo 3, BioshockZelda: Twilight Princess, Call of Duty 3 and a LOT of Castlevania… both Symphony of the Night and Dawn of Sorrow in Julius Mode… but then… I was like, "Maybe we need to have some sort of event that really changes Cooper's life… I know! He should meet with someone who knew one of his ancestors! McSweeny is in jail and Doc M. got his arse handed to him… who is left… umm! So then I thought, HEY! Sly doesn't have a weapon… maybe I can embellish a little more into how he starts using a gun, like Carmelita… who used a gun in the Cooper family line? OH DUH, Tennessee Kid Cooper, of course.
Tonight, I started from the part where Sly is standing in front of Charlie after reading the "TURN AROUND" note on the coffee table… According to Word2007, that is on page 6… So, I wrote about 17 pages in about 3 or 4 hours. I re-read it, made a few quick fixes… and now... you're reading it! YAY. Ahem.I'm tired and you guys probably want to start reading right away so… I'm going to post it now and if I find any mistakes, I'll fix'em when I go through and fix ALL the chapters.
So…
Love you guys
-Kit