Author's Notes, Chapter 6:
Once again, I'd like to thank everyone for commenting. I'm glad to see this is picking up some steam. With the holidays, I now have a bit more time to write, and hopefully it will be reflected in more chapters going online. I know this chapter is slightly shorter, but it seemed a natural breaking point and I'm hoping to get them out a little more frequently too. As always, reviews are requested.
Heiduska: Soon enough for you? (grin)
RatchetSly: Psychopathic doesn't do it justice. This is really just a warm-up for the big game, so hold onto your hat!
Chapter 6
Murray mashed the clutch in and slammed the gearshift into reverse. Gravels spun out from under the tires and cars dodged into the other lane in a panic as the disguised Cooper van roared backwards to the scene of the 'accident'. Carmelita's attackers, realizing they'd been spotted, grabbed something out of the front seat, which looked suspiciously like a file folder, and ran for the other van. Sly's door flew open and he ran like a crazed maniac toward the kidnappers' van.
Only his finely-honed reflexes saved him as the headlights which had chased Carmelita surged forward toward the raccoon. Jumping to the side and rolling into the guard-rail, he just barely missed being clipped by the van. Murray wasn't so lucky. Van met van in passing, and the Cooper van now sported a dented corner. Murray took a face dive into the steering wheel, and sat up, furious.
"Oh you did NOT just hit my van..."
Sly got to his feet just in time to see the hit, and ran to his van, noticing that the blue paint was showing under the silvery paint job. The tires showered him in gravel, making him shield his face with his left hand. He swung his cane with his right, just barely catching the back door handles as the van roared forward like a wounded beast. Sly took two running steps to match speeds and then jumped, planting his feet on the back bumper.
Crouching with an apparent ease made possible by all the practice he'd had in the snowy wastes of the far North, he leapt up onto the top of the van and crawled forward. By now the van was approaching top speed, careening through traffic like mad, trying to catch up to the other van which was doing the same. Sly had to shift his weight very carefully, surfing the van as it darted in and out of traffic, sometimes even skidding onto the emergency strip to pass a stubborn car. From inside, Sly could hear Bentley yelling at Murray about delicate equipment. Ignoring him, Murray continued to redline the Cooper van to catch up with the ones who had done such an injustice.
Sly climed above the driver's window and used his cane to reach down and peck Murray on the head.
"When you get close, match speeds so I can jump!" Sly yelled, barely audible over the rushing wind. Murray snarled at him, but refocused his anger onto the target and mashed the accellerator to the floor with his considerable weight. The van once again topped itself and pushed forward with renewed drive.
After several harrowing minutes, Murray triumped and banged the front bumper into the rear of the van ahead. Sly was jolted, nearly losing his footing, but managing to turn it into a jump that carried him to the other van... almost. The wind shortened his jump just a small amount, and he snagged a light on the top with his cane. The white van fishtailed, losing control after being tapped at such high speed, but to the driver's credit, he regained control and tried to pull ahead again. But Murray was not to be deterred this time, and matched him move for move.
Sly pulled himself onto the top of the van. There was a tense moment where he tried to figure out just how to get down inside, before a gigantic hole tore outward next to his foot.
Carmelita reeled from the slap, landing on the printed metal floor of the van. Blood, hot with fury, trickled from her nose. She tried to pick herself up, but couldn't bring her tied hands in front of her. She was hauled up roughly by the hair and tossed back onto the cold metal bench lining the side of the rear compartment.
"Do not lie to me! We have the folder already!" Yelled her tormenter, furious. "I'm going to ask you again. And this time, if you don't answer, it's going to get really ugly..." To drive the point home, he pulled out a knife and started menacing her with it, making vauge cutting gestures. "Who told you to run?" he demanded. Carmelita just snarled at him again, the same response that had drawn such fury before. The man, dressed in concealing black commando garb, grabbed her throat with one hand, pinning her head to the wall.
"You obviously can't hear anyway, so you must not need these!" He put the knife to her ear, flattened against the cold steel, and pressed down. Carmelita screamed in pain just as the van lurched forward, throwing everyone to the floor, barely sparing her from being mutilated. She scrabbled around in the floor for the knife, but suddenly found it pointed at her nose. Her tormentor opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as a heavy thud on the roof drew everyone's attention. He reflexively turned to see what was happening, and that was when Carmelita slammed her bound feet into his groin. He staggered backward as she fell off the bench and into the floor. Unable to speak, the leader gestured frantically to the ceiling. One of the men raised a shotgun and fired at where the noise had been...
Murray watched Sly recoil as the blast tore through the roof, the metal opening like a flower right next to him. He swore softly while Bentley tried to think of anything he could do. Above the din and gunshots, Murray recognized the wail of police sirens: Interpol was about to catch up. Finally, Bentley hit upon inspiration. Manning the recently rebuilt turret, he hit the lever to raise it. The cover blew open, tearing off some of the paint around it to reveal the true color beneath. A large chaingun potruded just far enough out of the roof to be of assistance. Bentley lined up the sights on the van and took aim, turning the infrared sights on. Inside the van, several figures showed up, but most of them were in the floor, indistinguishable. One, however, showed up quite clearly. The smoking barrel of the shotgun showed a hot white amid the dull red movement. Bentley swung the chaingun slightly, and opened fire. The man pumped the shotgun's action, readying a second blast at Sly, and then paused. His eyes widened as the shock of twenty rounds tearing his body open dawned on him, realization not quite setting in before his life had already fled. The front wall of the compartment was now blood-splattered, and the front windshield destroyed. The driver's right arm hung in ruined shreds, the rounds having passed through the entire vehicle, but he did his level best to keep up with one arm.
Sly's eyes shot wide open as he heard the chaingun spout off a burst of fire. He turned around to see Bentley flash him a thumbs-up. Sly nodded and dove for the hole the shotgun had made, trying to squim through into the compartment below, cane-first. He hung half-way inside, feet stuck above him, when one of the other men grabbed the knife and slashed at him. Carmelita's blood mingled with Sly's as the knife scored an angry red wound onto his chest. Maneuvering around as best he could, Sly smashed his cane into the panther's nose, then hooked it around his neck and twisted. A sharp crack, and the life faded from the panther's eyes. Sly immediately regretted it, but he'd been forced into a corner.
He wiggled down further, trying to get all the way in, when Carmelita managed to stand up. She looked at him angrily, as if it infuriated her that he, of all people, would arrive to save her. But she quickly got her priorities in order and her glare softened a bit. She reached out to him with both hands, and he tried to pull her up. Instead, right the opposite happened, as he suddenly plopped down into the van, landing with a thud on his head. He slowly got up, rubbing his head with one hand, and gestured to the other men.
"They'll wake up with a headache they won't soon forget, but they'll live." she said coldly. Sly nodded and kicked the rear doors. They exploded outward and Murray drew back a bit, startled. But when he saw the two of them ready to go, he pulled up once again. Interpol, meanwhile, had contributed vans of it's own to the disaster-in-progress, which were all busily commanding both of the criminal vans to halt over megaphones.
"I guess this is your stop." Sly said to Carmelita. She looked relieved... and then suddenly gasped as if a horrible realization had come to her.
"No! I can't go back!" she blurted.
Sly nearly fell backwards in surprise. Whatever he might have expected from the firery vixen, that was most certainly not it. Reading the look on his face, Carmelita followed up.
"Look, I can't go back to them right now. It's not safe! I'll explain later, but you'll have to trust me!"
Sly gave her a disgusted look that spoke volumes about how much he felt he could trust her. No matter what he did for her or for the world at large, at the end of the day, she had always been ready to arrest him and claim the lion's share of the credit. Carmelita gritted her teeth, realizing what he must be thinking. Forcing a calming breath, she adopted the most sincere look she could muster and went for the alternative approach.
"Sly, you always wanted me to trust you, despite the fact that everything I know, every instinct tells me not to." Sly opened his mouth as if to protest, but she continued. "But that trust goes both ways. If you want me to trust you, then you're going to have to trust me too!"
Their eyes met, and for a moment, they were completely silent. The wind rushed by, the sirens wailed, officers were screaming demands... but they didn't notice. Instead, their gazes locked, and Sly stared deep into her eyes. For once... she seemed genuine.
"Okay, I'll help you." Sly said simply, bring his cane up and deftly untying the ropes that bound her with a few quick twists. Carmelita arched her eyebrows in surprise: that was one thing she certainly hadn't known he could do. Sly then jumped back onto the Cooper van, motioning Carmelita to follow. She looked at him, but then turned and dashed back inside. Sly squinted, trying to see into the dark van. She returned just a heartbeat later, holding a file folder. The same file folder, Sly noted, that she'd taken from that man the other night. Carmelita deftly landed on the roof of the Cooper van, and yelled.
"Bentley! Waste that van!" she commanded angrily, pointing to the van in front of them. Bentley gulped and shook his head. She stormed toward the turret, but Sly grabbed her shoulder.
"Let Interpol handle it. They might find something important." He cautioned.
"I am Interpol!" she countered, anger gleaming in her eyes.
"No, you're not." Sly insisted. "I don't know why, but the very fact that you need us to get you away from them says that you're not. We've already hurt them badly enough, now let Interpol pump them for information while we make a getaway. Besides, it gives them something else to worry about."
Carmelita looked like she was going to take his head off, but relented and allowed Sly to lead her to the open hatch into the Cooper van. Bentley retracted the turret, and its lid closed automatically as it sank out of sight. Sly pulled the hatch closed as Carmelita jumped down inside, telling Murray to lose interpol. Murray's face set, and he swerved out and around the other van, pulling away and into the busy traffic.
Sly pulled out a first-aid kit, and Bentley convinced him to sit down and let him do it. Bentley first checked Sly's chest wound, as it looked the most serious, despite Sly's objections. He lifted his shirt while Bentley treated him. The slash was superficial, thankfully, though it looked very nasty indeed. Bentley quickly cleaned with an anesthetic-antibiotic wipe and wound some gauze around his chest. Sly turned just in time to see Carmelita looking out of the corner of his eye. She quickly developed an intense interest in a random piece of equipment on the wall when he noticed.
"Okay, okay. I'm patched up, Bentz, now please help Carmelita?" Sly complained, striving not to let the frustration in his voice show. Bentley just nodded and tended to her ear. The knife had come very close to severing it entirely, though the last-second lurch had kept it from becoming more than a shallow cut. Bentley cleaned this too, and bandaged her ear. He also gave her some tissues to wipe her nose, but found no broken bones. Finally satisfied that the two were not in serious danger, he went back to his computer station to monitor the situation.
Neither Sly nor Carmelita said a word for the entire trip back to the safehouse...
