A/N: Hurray! First chapter finally comes to the site! Chapters two and three are already written, and just have to be edited and polished before being posted, and by then I think we'll be about halfway through.

Of course, I don't own any original Sly Cooper characters – they belong to Sucker Punch. PT Bull, Wood, and Random Officer belong to me, though.

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Thief for a Day

Raven Ehtar

Chapter One, 'Hunters'

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Inspector Carmelita Fox tried hard not to grind her teeth in frustration. It was a bad habit she had developed as a cub, and she didn't want to pay the dental bills. It was hard, though, not to grind as she listened to the incoming reports on a local, high profile robbery.

There could be no question as to who had robbed the tight security home, even though the Inspector had only heard second-hand reports so far. It had to have been Sly Cooper and his gang. But it wasn't the who that did the robbing that was the problem, it was the who that was robbed. It was none other than a Mr. P. T. Bull, the underdog of London. To the public face he was a fairly respectable business dog, if a bit of a risk taker, and active in local interests. London police and Interpol both knew him as an under handed, backstabbing criminal, whose only real interest in public affairs was how it affected his crime/drug web. He was careful to keep up a façade of innocence, but wasn't above a convoluted killing or two to keep the competition and his own people in line. The boys in blue had been trying to nail his hide for months.

And now this. The Cooper Gang had decided to throw their collective hat into the ring. Now it was pretty much up to Carmelita to take sides. Normally there wasn't a problem, the law and personal preference had her side against Cooper. But with this case there was room to maneuver. She could go after Cooper as per usual and basically be working on behalf of Mr. Bull, but that rubbed her fur the wrong way. Or, she could take the opportunity provided by Cooper and his gang and try her chances at prosecuting P. T. Bull. But doing that, taking on P. T., it would feel like admitting Sly Cooper was right, and that just went against the grain for Inspector Fox.

She ground her teeth again with a tiny growl. Damn Cooper for this impossible position! He just waltzed into whatever safe he felt like and to hell with the consequences. Cooper and his little friends made twice as much work for the blues with any one hit than any other band. She, on the other hand, had rules, procedure to follow. If she didn't follow that procedure in capturing the bad guys, then all of her efforts would be wasted.

Carmelita sighed and switched off her radio, she knew what would be coming in after awhile, and it wouldn't help her decision. This had been one of Sly's sneakier breaks, so there were only a few missing items besides those from the safe, and a minimum of knocked out guards. Most disappointing had been the lack of anything useful to use against P. T. when the blues had gone in to investigate. It was all terribly frustrating.

Her dubious reverie was interrupted by an officer bursting into her office. "I'm sorry, Detective," he stammered before she could protest, "but something just came in from Nevada."

"Something useful to this case, I hope," Fox muttered.

The officer, being a bloodhound with exceptional hearing, caught the remark, "Yes, ma'am!"

Carmelita's nose came up quickly, "Sly Cooper?"

"Yes, Detective. The report just came in from the Elephant Head Casino in Las Vegas."

"Las Veg-- oh, no," she leaned back in her chair, a hand over her eyes. She could just imagine Cooper and his gang in Las Vegas, and it wasn't exactly a comforting image. The raccoon prince of thieves loose in Sin City – what could be worse?

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PT glared down at the head of security from his chair. It wasn't that the guard was sitting, or particularly short, but that PT was incredibly tall, even when sitting. At 7' 2", he towered over associates and enemies alike, and rarely had to use muscle to intimidate either. His stature convinced many a man to agree with him. It was an arrangement that worked well for PT. He appreciated order, especially where his business ventures were concerned. More than anything else, he hated messes or unexpected turns. Everything had to carefully planned and then executed in PT's world, nothing of importance could be spontaneous. Which was why he was in the middle of disciplining his head of security. This was the man that had been in charge when his home had been robbed. His home! It had been invaded and burgled under his nose! And this pathetic wimp was the one responsible.

PT let the silence hang, furthering the poor guard's discomfort. It was well known at the guard house that unpleasant things tended to happen to those who failed Mr. Bull, and there was no one else in the darkened room beside him and his irate employer. Lacking the glands to truly sweat, the guard began to pant, and the palms of his hands began to itch.

Finally, PT leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, "12:45 am. Vault number four. Does that ring a bell, Wood?"

"Yes, sir!" Wood said crisply. Abject terror or not, it was best to be quick and truthful with Mr. Bull.

"Good," PT said with a pleasant smile, "I'm glad to know that it hasn't completely escaped your memory. Do you remember what was in vault number four?"

Wood fidgeted. Of course he knew what was in it, as head of security he had the check on some vaults to make sure they still held what they were supposed to.

"Note," PT suddenly growled, "that I say was because it is not there anymore!"

The guard began to tremble, "I'm sorry, PT, I--"

He was cut off as the towering bulldog suddenly stood and cuffed him. "Sorry!" he raged, "Do you think 'sorry' will bring back those documents!"

From his position on the ground, the guard whimpered, ears clamped to the sides of his head and tail tucked between his legs.

"Do you even know what kind of information was on that computer?" PT continued, ignoring Wood's whines, "If the thieves who stole it manage to decrypt it, they'll wield enormous power over me! ME!"

It was unacceptable, PT thought furiously. Those thieves had invaded his personal home and stolen the one thing that could ruin him. And if the thieves didn't crack the code, but the cops caught them and recovered the stolen items, the nosey blues would find an excuse to hold onto his personal computer until they learned all its secrets.

No, he would have to retrieve the laptop himself. He would find Sly Cooper and his friends and make them regret they ever set foot in his home.