Inspector Carmelita Fox hesitated at the door to Chief Barkley's office, hand halfway extended towards the doorknob. She knew the Chief wouldn't be happy. She took a deep breath, and quickly opened the door just to get it over with. She realized right away that she had forgotten to knock. It didn't seem to matter, as the Chief had apparently been watching the door rather than any of the paperwork which cluttered up his desk, so he and Carmelita established eye contact the moment she entered.
"You wanted to see me." she said.
"Correct." said Barkley, pausing for a puff of his cigar. "You've been applying for live ammo qualification again." It somehow sounded like an accusation.
Carmelita nodded.
"The results are in." Barkley continued with a sigh, holding up a sheet of paper. It was a standard evaluation form for shooting exams. Carmelita's name and yesterday's date had been filled in, but other than that, the form was completely blank. And slightly soggy.
"Normally, a document like this would be considered incomplete and therefore inadmissible. But the fact that it is soaked in the tears of the person who supervised your qualification attempt, should be all anyone needs to know!"
Carmelita stepped closer to Barkley's desk, gently moved a stack of documents a few inches, picked up his heavy glass ashtray, and placed it on top of a shorter stack. Then she placed her hands on the two resulting free spaces, and leaned forward.
"Listen, Chief. I take pride in always capturing my suspects alive and at least mostly unharmed, and the shock pistol is perfect for that, but every thug from here to Singapore knows it's the only thing I ever carry! I need to get authorized to use lethal force of some kind, just so the really hardcore gangsters will have a reason to take me seriously!"
Barkley picked up a manila folder from the stack Carmelita had just moved. "And that, right there, is also exactly where the problem lies. You're just looking to get authorized for the sake of being authorized, you don't have the will to actually do that kind of harm! Remember your first attempt?"
He opened the folder and pulled out another evaluation form.
"Standard nine-millimeter service pistol. You scored a zero." said Barkley. "Forty rounds, not a single hit. The least impressive result in Interpol history. At the time, that is."
Hoping she didn't look as dejected as she felt, Carmelita surrendered to the impulse of reliving her first taste of lethal power. She could still feel the pistol's grip in her hands, her finger curled like a snake around the trigger as she tried to look down the sights. The thought of the immense force at her command made her fur bristle. Sure, her shock pistol was powerful, but nobody had ever died from it. Whenever Carmelita felt the adrenaline coming, she knew she could safely accept it. She could temporarily displace her usual professionalism and let pure fury control her aim, safe in the knowledge that the suspect would still be ready for questioning and a fair trial once the dust had settled and Carmelita's blood had cooled down. This nine-millimeter was a different beast altogether. Only slightly heavier than the shock pistol, but far more compact. Pointing this thing at a suspect was not justice - and its judgment could not be appealed. Carmelita dared herself to squeeze off a shot. Even with earplugs firmly in place, the sound completely overwhelmed her senses for a split-second. The recoil was far more powerful than she had anticipated, befitting the terrifying power she had unleashed. Her spine tingled in an amazing way that it had never done before. The last thing she could remember was an all-powerful urge to pull that trigger again. Just one more time…
She was brought back to the present by the sound of shuffling papers. Barkley was now holding a different evaluation form. Carmelita kept quiet, and focused on him as if she had been doing so the whole time.
"Six months later, you tried again. Respectable." said the Chief, managing to muster a brief smile. "However, as I'm sure you'll agree, it didn't make much difference." No longer smiling, he put the form aside and picked another one from the folder. "Another six months. Twenty-five rounds. Still at pistol distance, but this time with a scoped carbine. Another zero, along with the recommendation that you never again be allowed near a shooting gallery."
Carmelita closed her eyes and bit her lip. She looked as if she was struggling not to let herself sink into the floor. "In my defense, the target was supposed to be the plain bull's-eye variety, not that new kind that looks like a person." she managed.
Clearly unimpressed, Barkley fished out yet another form. "Right. Six months after that: Tactical shotgun. Pistol-grip, pump-action, loaded with beanbag rounds. Classic bull's-eye target. After hitting a wide variety of objects such as several ceiling lights and a surprisingly volatile fire extinguisher, but somehow still not including the target, you managed to knock yourself out with a ricochet. You got a beanbag round to ricochet. This one actually made the news. And the shooting gallery was closed down for repairs for several months."
Carmelita finally mustered the energy to react. "All right, I-"
"And let's not forget yesterday." Barkley interrupted.
Carmelita cringed. She wanted nothing more than to forget yesterday.
Barkley quickly shuffled the evaluation forms back into order, and put them back in the folder. Then he picked up the soggy one again.
For a few seconds, Carmelita just stood still with her eyes closed. Then she straightened her back and opened her eyes. As she had feared, Chief Barkley was prepared for this, mercilessly fixing her with a piercing glare.
"Heavy machine gun. Fifty cal. Tripod-mounted." Barkley's brow betrayed a definite hint of genuine amazement. Not the good kind. "What were you even thinking, Fox?"
"I was… running out of options, Chief." she muttered.
Barkley sat up, with an incredulous look. "Running out of options. Fox, you were found knee-deep in spent cartridges, at the edge of a smoking crater that used to be our newly-refurbished shooting gallery. You were only supposed to fire ten rounds! Wanna tell me what happened?"
Carmelita managed to work up a few seconds of confidence. "Chief, have you ever fired anything that powerful before? I hadn't. This was… my first time." she said, with a slight blush and a nervous giggle. "It's addictive! Like, you know, eating potato chips?" Her final confidence reserves ran dry in the middle of the last sentence, and her posture visibly wilted even before Barkley could react.
The Chief had picked up a large, folded sheet of paper from somewhere in between his desk clutter. He unfolded it, and held it up for Carmelita to see. It was a standard shooting target, showing the stylized silhouette of a vaguely canine-looking person. Someone had helpfully scribbled, 'Shoot HERE!' in broad, red marker across the figure's chest.
"Fox. You got zero hits. Out of some twelve thousand shots fired. This target was recovered from the bottom of the crater. It's the only thing you didn't destroy!" He folded the target back up and tossed it over his shoulder, all while maintaining eye contact with Carmelita.
"You know the drill, Fox. You'll be allowed to take another test in six months. But I beg you, please don't! You can barely handle that shock pistol as it is! Remember what happened last year when you discovered Sly Cooper sneaking down our fire escape with a handful of classified documents? You completely demolished the fire escape, blew up half of our patrol cars - and Cooper got away without a scratch! I really shouldn't let you carry anything more powerful than a nightstick after reading that report from Mesa City! Yeah, I know that place wasn't in the best shape when you got there, but your actions sure didn't help. Not to mention the ancient, giant dragon statue in-"
At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Barkley got up, dumped the still-soggy evaluation form into the bin next to his chair, then walked over and opened the door.
"I'm sorry to cut the evaluation short, Inspector, but there's someone you need to meet." he said as a slender, athletic-looking feline woman walked in. She was wearing dark blue running shorts and a matching halter top. Her fur was a blazing orange, richly adorned with jet-black stripes. Unmistakably a tigress.
Carmelita perked up, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, Chief, I'm not sure I could even handle another reminder about that dragon statue anyway."
"What dragon statue?" asked the newcomer, in a marked British accent.
"Uh… exactly." said Barkley, then placed a hand on Carmelita's shoulder. "Anyway, we do have more important things to discuss." He took a deep breath. "First of all… listen, Fox, you're not gonna like this - and trust me, neither do I... but as of now, you're off the Cooper case."
Carmelita froze. "WHA-?" she managed to ask as her jaw fell to her chest and stayed there.
Looking resigned, Barkley headed back to his chair. "Fox, ever since I put you on the Cooper case, you've been getting more aggressive. More reckless. That kind of thing is caused by stress. And under the new policy on stress management, I simply can't allow you to keep it up! Besides, your talents are needed elsewhere at the moment."
Along the way he grabbed another manila folder, this time from the top of a nearby filing cabinet, and slapped it onto his desk as he sat down. This snapped Carmelita out of her apathy, her mouth audibly clapping shut. She quickly wiped a drop of drool off her muzzle and leaned towards Barkley, both hands firmly re-planted in the two spots she had cleared earlier.
"You can't take me off the Cooper case! Who knows what that ring-tailed reprobate will get up to when he doesn't have me to worry about?! He could be plotting to steal the Eiffel tower as we speak!"
Barkley visibly steeled himself. "Fox, you've been on the Cooper case for far too long. I'll put you back on it as soon as possible, but for now, I need you to focus on something else for a while." He leaned closer. "You need to focus on something else for a while! You're gonna burn yourself out, obsessing about Cooper all the time!
Carmelita waved her arms in the air with frustration. "I just came back from a three-month vacation!"
Barkley took a deep breath and released a thick cloud of cigar smoke. "I know that, Fox - but vacation time only counts if you don't use it to chase Sly Cooper!"
At this, the newcomer gave a quick, but loud, burst of laughter. "Wow. What are you, in love with him or something?"
Carmelita's only reply was a glare so vicious that the tigress' orange fur instantly paled to a bizarre lilac hue, with a darker purple replacing the black of its distinctive stripes.
"S-sorry." she squeaked, so rigid with fear she couldn't even stop smiling. Carmelita maintained eye contact, keeping the tigress frozen to the spot for nearly a minute before she recovered enough to cast a tentative glance down at her new fur color and timidly ask,
"Um... this isn't permanent, is it...?"
Whatever reply Carmelita might have had to offer was interrupted by a 'Har-RUMPH!' that almost made the windows rattle.
"Enough with the staring contest. Both of you!" Barkley picked up the folder again. "You are both Interpol operatives. You need to get acquainted in proper, civilized terms." He motioned towards Carmelita. "Constable, you have no doubt heard of Inspector Fox."
Carmelita extended her hand. The tigress shook it.
"Inspector Fox," he continued, "this is your new partner - Constable Neyla!"
Carmelita froze. First she gets taken off the Cooper case, and now - a partner? In her entire time as Inspector, she had always worked solo. Had Barkley completely lost faith in her? Was she getting demoted? She was able to slowly wrench her head aside to face the Chief, and choke out the single word,
"What?!"
Barkley, suddenly realizing how Carmelita might perceive the situation, raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Don't be upset, Fox. Constable Neyla is a newly appointed Interpol agent. She needs a mentor. Her superior in Prague wants that to be you."
Carmelita regained enough of her composure to let go of Neyla's hand. The Constable said nothing, but flexed her hand repeatedly with a decidedly relieved look on her face.
"Besides," Barkley continued, handing her the folder, "your new assignment is a little more complex than just hunting down and catching a single known criminal. I don't mind telling you, I'd sure want someone watching my back on a job like this."
Carmelita grabbed the folder and quickly leafed through it. Then she shot Neyla a suspicious look. Barkley immediately picked up on it.
"Do you have a problem with your new partner, Fox?" he asked.
Carmelita kept her back straight. "Chief, I'd have to be loco to bring her along on this mission! No rookie could be expected to survive that merciless wasteland, and you know it! I have seen some of our most level-headed people completely lose control there! I have seen hardened war veterans driven to madness by the mere mention of its name!"
Here, Neyla tried to take a look at the file. Carmelita snapped the folder shut. Neyla shot her a look of indignation.
"Hey! I'll have you know, I'm far from your run-of-the-mill rookie! I may lack your experience, Inspector, but I know full well how to keep a stiff upper lip, regardless of circumstances!"
"It's true." said Barkley. "Constable Neyla is a born Interpol operative. She has passed every exam with flying colors, and proven herself in the field on several occasions already. You have my word, Fox, you may trust this woman with your life!"
"All right, Chief. If you say so." Carmelita was still far from convinced, but she knew she had to give Neyla a chance out of respect towards Barkley. She put the folder down, turned to face her new partner, took a deep breath and said, in a slightly defeated tone,
"Right. Pack your bags, Constable - we are going... to Las Vegas."
Face frozen in a maniacal grin, eyes wide and sparkling like stars, Neyla proceeded to let out an ecstatic, drawn-out squeal which reminded Carmelita of a boiling kettle. She and Barkley stared at each other in silence as the already annoying noise started rising towards an even more obnoxious pitch. Then it petered out and stopped.
"I don't mean to be rude," said Carmelita, "but that sound right there is pretty much the very last thing I want to hear from someone who is going to accompany me to Vegas."
Barkley's stern expression faded away, and he nodded slowly. "I see where you're coming from, Inspector. However, you'll notice that Constable Neyla was able to quit producing it in a matter of seconds. That shows some very impressive self-control, especially for a rookie."
"True." said Carmelita. "But you have to admit that the good Constable's reaction is less than confidence-inspiring."
She gestured towards Neyla. The Constable did indeed remain silent - but her eyes still looked like something out of a Japanese cartoon, and her smile had widened to the point where Carmelita half expected the upper part of the woman's head to slide off.
Slowly and ponderously, Barkley let out a massive cloud of cigar smoke. "Then let me remind you, Fox, that when you were assigned your first mission to Las Vegas, you kept making that exact same sound until you passed out from failure to breathe inwards."
Carmelita sighed heavily. "You've got me there." She leaned closer and slightly lowered her voice. "Besides, once the paramedics had left, the next thing I did was run up to the roof and shout to the world that 'I'm going to Las Vegas!' until you threatened to have me arrested for disturbing the peace." She held out her hand. "You're right, Chief. I can't really say too much against the Constable. I hereby accept the mission."
Barkley stood up. "Thank you, Fox, I knew we could count on you!"
They were just about to shake hands when a loud ruckus broke out just outside the office. Carmelita opened the door, then turned back to Barkley with a shocked expression.
"Stray dogs, Chief! The building is overrun by them!"
Barkley quickly made his way over to the doorway to see for himself. Sure enough, there were dogs everywhere. They were chewing up paperwork, rummaging through trash baskets, toppling filing cabinets and tripping people up. A patrolman attempted to usher a large St. Bernard out through the main entrance, only to accidentally let in a torrent of chihuahuas. Carmelita and Barkley both stared in disbelief at the unfolding spectacle until a sudden loud 'thump' snapped them out of it.
Constable Neyla had passed out from what would later be described by paramedics as an inexplicable temporary failure to breathe inwards.
