NOTES- Sly Cooper and related characters are property of Sucker Punch. Macavity based on "Cats" the musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber which was based on "Old Possum's Book Of Practical Cats" by T.S. Eliot (So who actally owns it, Nee don't know). Nee's characters are property of Nee. Nee has a yellow tonuge in Gun-Fu.
Ch3 - "The Interpol Incident"
"So he knew nothing?"
"Nothing. He was contacted a week before by some guy who claimed to be working on a movie. They needed a singer for the big heist scene, a singer who'd carry on singing even if pandemonium broke out.", said the officer on the other end of the line.
"Damn!" Carmelita hadn't been having a good day. The debarcle at museum had left her so aggrevated she was put on a plane back to Interpol to calm down. She was not in the right mind to look for clue or question witnesses. After a hour or two on Interpol's firing range, most of the rage had burnt out her system, she was able to co-ordinate the officers still in Argentina. "So Hayes... any hope on I.D.ing the man who hired him?"
"Nah, the only time they actually met the guy was all covered up in a radiation suit."
"A radiation suit? Why the hell was he in a radiation suit?"
"According to our singer, the guy claimed to be germaphobic. Apparently our singer has worked with eccentric directors before and saw nothing wrong with it." Hayes said with a small amount of disbelief.
"I know what he means. The office is full of weirdos today."
"Weirdos?"
"A new idea the chief's trying out. Bounty hunters, like they have in America. It was very near impossible to use the gun range. Lots of ex-army and other gun toting freaks just looking for something to shoot."
"You really don't like anyone doing the job without a badge, do you?"
"It just annoys me. Some officers have to go through so much to get a badge. Bounty hunters just grab a weapon and can start right away. I mean when I was downstairs I saw a young Bengal cat, she couldn't have been more than nineteen..."
"Natasha! Natasha Cinder's there at Interpol! DAMN IT!" Carmelitas' jolted her head away from the phone having not prepared her ears for the sudden rise in volume, as she eased the phone back to her head she caught the tail end of a patterned Hayes' rant, "... and here I am stuck in Argentina!"
"Next time warn me before do that!"
"Oh sorry Inspector, it's... just... her markmenship is unparalleled. She trained under her father, rifle god Richard Cinder, by shooting the wings off flying insects... a mile away." The vixen merely raised a quizzical eyebrow as her colleague continued to rave on about his apparent idol, "She's actually twenty-four, started training when she was three, had her kid when she was seventeen, created the art of Gun-Fu at the age of twenty, her favourite gun's the CZ-75, the same as mine..."
At this point of the conversation, Miss Fox had had enough of Hayes' voice and hung up, knowing it'd be another hour before he noticed. 'We have too many gun toting freaks here alreadly.' She decided to grab something from the canteen before she got back to work, "Yawn", then a nap. She hadn't given herself time to do sleep since the theft.
After locking her officer door, Carmelita walked the corridors of Interpol to the canteen. However as she got closer, her ears picked up the faint sound of music. Given Sly's recent heist, it could be one of two things :
1. Someone had just solved a big case.
or more likely
2. Some officers were having a laugh at the Cooper Case and her.
'I'd been expecting this since getting off the plane.' Inspector Fox shut her eye and clenched her teeth as she reached the canteen door. 'Just like coming back from Russia. God! The ribbing was endless, somehow they'd all found out that Sly and I kissed... No, no, no. Sly kissed me.' She had convinced herself of that whilst she'd spent two days sitting on top of that volcano, bashing away at her handcuffs with a rock. 'Best just get this over with.'
Much to the dear inspector's relief, when she entered the staff canteen, no one from her department was there. The whole homoncide department as well as the organised crime department seemed to have commandered the huge room for a party, all of whom paid no attention to anything outside their own departments. Well except one, to Carmelita knowledge. Detective Chief Inspector Lindermann, the fourty-something german mongoose at the centre of the party, always kept her eye on one other case. The Cooper case. She was the last person to work on the case before Carmelita. The Cooper case was the very reason she'd tranferred from burgalry to homoncide, as she was the officer in charge when Joseph Cooper, Sly's father, was murdered. She tranferred just because she did't want anyone else finishing her case. This was the same reason why Carmelita would never give up on trying to catch Sly.
Carmelita's stomach was desperately trying to remind the vixen about why she was here, however her quizzical mind overruled it. She made her way over to Lindermann.
"Hello D.C.I. Lindermann."
"Vell, vell, vell..." Lindermann turned to face the current Cooper cop, "If it izn't da most photographed officer in Interpol. How'z du Carmelita?"
"As vell... I mean as well as can be expected."
"Ja, I heard about dat. I'm just glad da vorst I got from a Cooper vas a thick coating ov jam."
"Jam?"
"Ja. I'll tell du 'bout it later, vhen I got more ov dis in me." The D.C.I. indicated to the glass of beer in her hand.
"What all this for anyway?"
"Nab us a crimelord today."
"If it involved both homoncide and organised crime, must of been a nasty piece of work."
"Chrisopher James Macavity." the mongoose said before taking another swig of beer.
"macavity." Inspector Fox said, but in a wisper.
"Carmelita, are du alright?" D.C.I. Lindermann was getting worried now. A minute or two had passed since she'd informed Inspector Fox of Macavity capture and the vixen had just spaced. In the case of some officers this was the norm but not Carmelita.
Remember she wasn't a six year old, sobbing in her bedroom, Miss Fox brought herself back to reality.
"Where is he?" She said in a tone a bit more forceful than one would normally use on a friend, mentor, and above all, a senior officer.
"Who? Macavity?" Said the mongoose taken back a little by the fox's behaviour.
"Yes. Where is he?"
"Cell Seventeen, behind da gun range. Vhy?" The D.C.I. didn't get an answer, Carmelita was already out the canteen door. "Inspector Fox?"
The fox in question was pushing and shoving her way past officers unfortunate enough to be in her way. The cell behind the gun range were a good fifteen minutes away from the canteen... Carmelita made it five. Behind the gun range was the place where Interpol put the worst of the worst. Althought no bullets could penetrate the thick wall, the constant sound of bullets hitting the steel the other side was an irritant. It was where Inspector Fox herself had housed the Fiendish Five, now it was home to him. She knew her personal involvment in the Macavity case meant she was not allowed to be in the same area as him, but if this was who she thought it was, that meant nothing. She approached the gekco on guard duty and after a few harsh words she had the keys to his cell. All the other cells there had been emptied of the residents in the wake of CJM's arrest. The guy had the world's best thugs working for him and was a level nine security risk so for the safety of the other prisoners he had to kept in isolation.
"...thiz iz an outrage, a travesty of justice." A loud french accent rang through out the cellblock, althought it sounded more like a very poor impression of a french accent. "I demand to zee your pzychiatrist. Let him ztudy me, he'll zay I can't possibly commit a crime..." The shouting stopped as the tall ginger tom which was Macavity, turned to see the very elegant vixen watching him through the iron bars. "... except, that iz of courze, a crime of pazzion, if that iz the caze... I plead Guilty! Guilty! For three hourz zolid Guilty." The female fox still just watched, Macavity however threw himself to the bars panting. "Zlap thoze handcuffz on me gorgeous, becauze I'm arrezting at the zhight of you."
"So... your Chrisopher James Macavity?" Carmelita started, ignoring what the prisoner had just said. She was on a mission, her voice devoid of feeling.
"That'z what it zayz on my birth cerfiftect, zweetnezz."
"Not what I expected." Carmelita unlocked the cell door and entered locking it behind her.
"Why not?" The french tom sounded offended.
"The gekco down there said 'don't go in his cell, he's crazy'. You know what I said to that?" Miss Fox stepped closer to the suspect.
"Crazy Guyz turn you on?"
"Hehehe. Nooooo, I said..." Before the tom knew what was going on, he was face down on the cell floor underneath a angry fox who was pushing his face into the floor. "I can get a little crazy too!"
"Hey! What do you think your doing?"
"Getting answers! Now tell me, Where's Macavity!"
"You are crazy! I am Macavity!"
"BULL!" Carmelita grabbed the tom's arm and wrenched it up the tom's back. "I know for a fact Macavity looks nothing like his file says. You do and he got you to say you're him."
"Who told you that?" The prisoner's face was a mask of pain, but also fear. The Inspector however had a face of pure rage.
"My father! Before Macavity killed him!"
Before anyone could say anything else, a loud whistle breached the air. When the vixen covered her ears, the man calling himself Chrisopher James Macavity pushed her off him and rolled under his bunk, just as the wall which seperated the cells from the gun range exploded.
Bricks flew everywhere. Poor Carmelita, having taken the full focus of the explosion, was thrown into the iron bars and pelted with rubble. As Miss Fox blacked out she was able to make out a voice, the same one she'd hear all those years ago.
"HENRI! Chris sent me ta come get ya!"
"What about her?"
"What about her? She's just a cop!"
Darkness.