The men looked at each other, and the rabbit, in silence for a minute until Bentley decided to speak up.

"Okay then. Do you know where you're from?" he gently asked. He couldn't even begin to imagine how freaked out she must be.

The rabbit's brown furrowed as she thought. "No."

Bentley raised an eyebrow in concern. "Well, judging from your accent, I think it's statistically probable you're from England. Any idea where?"

"I just said no," she replied irritably, her frown causing Bentley look away awkwardly. Watching the turtle's reaction, and the pang of guilt that accompanied it, softened the rabbit's scowl. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I'm just a little stressed. I've literally just woken up in a field, and I have no idea who am I or what I'm doing here." She rubbed the back of her head, wincing slightly. "I must have had a good smack on the head, because my skull feels like it's going to split open."

"I understand," Bentley replied, offering a reassuring smile. "We can help you remember, but we also have a job to do."

"Then by all means, don't let me get in the way," the rabbit said, standing up from her seat, prepared to leave. "I can look after myself, memory or no memory. I'll come back later."

"What Bentley means," Sly spoke up, "is that we want you to come along while we help you figure everything out." He folded his arms over his chest as he spoke, giving the rabbit a small, warm smile. The rabbit couldn't believe her luck! Despite saying she could look after herself, she wasn't too fond of the idea of wandering in a strange place alone, without even knowing the tiniest scrap of information about herself.

The rabbit beamed. "Thank you." Nervously, she brushed the hair out of her face. "Thank you so much, guys. I'll try to not get in the way too much."


Bentley wasn't used to having someone in the back of the van with him, but it made a nice change. Even if his new companion couldn't even recall the smallest detail about herself, she took great interest in Sly and his gang.

"So you guys genuinely met at an orphange and stuck together ever since? For ten years?" she politely asked, trying to mask her disbelief.

"We have, and we've done so much cool stuff!" Murray replied, concentrating on his driving.

"I always thought that people eventually grow apart from their childhood friends," the rabbit pondered. "I mean, everyone changes as they grow up."

"We're family," Bentley corrected, adjusting his bowtie. "And family stick together."

"That's cute," the rabbit said, causing the poor turtle to blush slightly. He wasn't used to being around female company, typically spending his childhood with Sly and Murray, or by himself, engrossed in some hacking attempt or a book. The tough appearance the rabbit had made him nervous, and was unsure of how to act around her. The piercings didn't help much either. She was so mysterious, and she terrified him.

"I wish I remembered my family," she whispered sadly, ears drooping.

"You soon will," Bentley said, looking up at her. They made eye contact, which lingered for a split second too long. Dougie felt herself blush slightly before turning away.

Get a grip Dougie! she scolded herself. He doesn't even know your name. You don't even know your own name! Surely he doesn't like you!

"Any idea of what your name is... Miss?" Sly asked, turning around to peer into the back of the van.

"Miss?" Bentley queried disapprovingly. "Really?"

"What else can I call her?" Sly replied with a little laugh. "Rabbit' isn't exactly personalised." He looked over to their amnesiac guest. "Anything?"

"Nope," she replied, shrugging. "I was just thinking that if I say 'Hi, my name is' at random moments, it'll just slip out, like muscle memory."

"That might just work!" Bentley exclaimed. "Give it a try."

The rabbit nervously looked at the turtle, then at the raccoon, and then back to the turtle. "Okay, here goes..." she murmured, and cleared her throat. "Hi, my name is..." she said, with an accompanying hand gesture, as if she was trying to prompt her brain to remember her own name. She waited for a couple of seconds, before pathetically waving her hand.

"Try it again," Bentley encouraged, tilting his head slightly as he watched her.

"Okay..." The rabbit nodded, face filled with concern. How could you not remember your own name? It was driving her insane!

I will remember my name, she thought, I must remember!

"Hi, my name is... drat!" she yelled, burying her head in her hands. This was so frustrating! "Hi, my name is... no! Hi, my name is... ugh!"

"Concentrate," Bentley said soothingly. "You'll get it. Just take a deep breath and let your name slip out. It's probably on the tip of your tongue."

The rabbit followed his instructions, and took a deep breath.

"Hi, my name is... Dougie," she said, her face dropping upon realising what she had achieved. "That's it, Dougie!" Her face broke out into a grin, clearly pleased with herself.

"Dougie?" Bentley questioned, his brow furrowing slightly. "Any idea what it's short for?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I just remember people calling me Dougie. I don't know why."

"Well, it's a start," Bentley declared. "But a good start, Dougie. You'll have your memory back before you know it!" Bentley was itching to get access to an internet connection so he could begin researching effective methods of memory restoration, as he was confident he could help.

"Cheers," she smiled. "But right now, I have a splitting headache, so I'm going to try and sleep it off." And with that, she lay down, and shut her eyes.


Murray swerved the van around and parked up, ready for Sly to hop out through the back doors. The sudden movement of the van jerked Dougie awake.

"Five more minutes..." She murmured, before reluctantly sitting up. Sly climbed over his seat and scooped up his bag, which was sat beside Dougie, and slung it around his shoulders. The raccoon checked that his backpack was secure, before grabbing his cane.

"You ready for this?" Bentley asked his friend.

"Born ready," the raccoon replied confidently, adjusting his cap. He looked down at the rabbit. "Dougie."

"Yes?" she said, the first time she'd spoken in hours, and the croaky quality of her voice reflected that.

"Look after Bentley for me, he's a bit of a worrier," Sly joked, much to Bentley's chagrin.

She laughed. "Aye aye Cap'n!" she returned with a mock salute.

"I am not a worrier!" the turtle protested, scowling at Sly. The raccoon winked at the rabbit before opening to van door and leaping outside, only to be hit with fine rain and a chilly breeze. He grimaced, feeling the water soak through to his skin. He quickly eyed a small tunnel and dashed inside it, grateful for the shelter it provided. He pushed his way through, only to emerge near the entrance of Raleigh's fortress.

The raccoon scanned his surroundings. The entrance to the fortress was barred by a large, reinforced gate, covered in spikes. The smaller metal fences to each side of the gate were also topped with spikes. Looks like I'm not going to climb over the old-fashioned way, Sly thought, eyes searching for another way in. And then he saw it: a ladder. He scurried over to it, and lifted his leg onto one of the rungs. He zipped up the ladder, which led up to a wooden platform surrounding a large lantern. He then hopped down onto the grass below.

He was in. He viewed the area ahead of him, and noticed there were two searchlights drifting across the courtyard. He watched the pattern, and saw there was a small window of opportunity where he could pass undetected. The window opened again, and the raccoon sprinted, not wasting a moment to double-check his timing. Sly slowed down and leaned against a stone statue of a frog with a large top hat to catch his breath. The wind had picked up slightly, threatening to blow his blue cap off his head.

The thief was about to press forward when he saw a silhouette in the distance. Quickly, he darted back to the cover of the statue and pressed himself against it. He carefully peeked from behind his cover, and saw a lone guard patrolling the edge of the courtyard. Sly smirked to himself. He knew how to deal with this guy. The guard was pacing back and forth, not really paying attention to his surroundings. When his back was turned, Sly dashed up to him, and swung his cane down on the walrus' head. The guard collapsed like a sack of flour.

"Sweet dreams," Sly said to the unconscious guard, before moving on. He followed the path, which gradually ascended. Once he reached the peak of this small hill, his breath was taken away by what he saw. Raleigh's 'fortress' was on a wrecked ship, but that was not the incredible part. Hovering above the ship was a weird, metallic-blimp thing. Sly had no idea what to make of this.

Maybe Bentley might know, the raccoon thought, getting his binocucom out of his backpack.


Bentley's binocucom beeped within the van.

"What's that?" Dougie asked, sitting up. She'd been lying in the back of the van, concentrating on trying to remember anything about her. So far, she'd had no luck. All she could remember was her nickname - not even her full name - and a silly little video game joke, originating from a faded childhood memory she could barely call her own. The frustration gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

"That's Sly," Bentley replied. "He's trying to contact me." He established the feed and saw an image of Raleigh's hideout. He quickly tweaked a few knobs and buttons on another nearby device in the van, which was about the same size as a bucket. A red outline appeared around the blimp on Sly's binocucom feed.

"According to my Amphibio-Positioning System, that big blimp is where Raleigh is hiding out," Bentley informed Sly.

"You know, that blimp looks more like a machine than a hideout," Sly responded.

"You're right, Sly. That is a storm machine! It's the reason why it never stops raining around here."

"That explains all the wrecked ships."

"But why would Raleigh want bad weather at his own hideout twenty-four-seven?" Bentley wondered.

"Beats me, but rain or shine, I'm going to steal my family's book back. And if Raleigh gets in my way, it's on."

The feed stopped.

"Amphibio-Positioning?" Dougie asked, pulling a face. "You can't be serious."

Bentley couldn't help but crack a smile. The rabbit was right, it did sound a bit ridiculous. "I'm serious, and it works with a 95% success rate."

"So, what now?" Dougie asked, still nursing her sore head. She was dying to get some ice on it. Whatever happened, she was counting herself lucky her skull wasn't cracked.

"We wait," Bentley replied. "I monitor Sly's progress and contact him if there's important information he needs."

"Like, when to jump and press the circle button?" Dougie cracked with a small smirk. Bentley looked at her blankly.

"What are you even talking about?" Bentley asked, puzzled expression on his face.

"Oh nothing," Dougie replied, still grinning. "Just a little snippet I remember from a video game I played as a kid. Nerd humour, don't mind me."

Bentley continued staring at her, unsure of how to respond.

"But I'm remembering things. That's a good sign, right?" Dougie asked.

"A very good sign." Bentley replied.


Sly saw a sturdy iron gate blocking his way. It was too high to jump over, and too slippery to climb, as the metal was slick with rainwater. He looked around the area, trying to find anything he could use to tackle this obstacle. He spied a pipe feeding between the two large cliffs that surrounded him. Hanging off the pipe was a solitary hook.

Could I...?

The raccoon leapt up to the hook and swung his cane round. The sound of clashing metal confirmed he had timed his swing correctly, and the thief felt a pull in his right arm, where he was holding onto his cane, dangling in the air. He shifted his weight forward, causing himself to swing forwards. He then shifted his weight behind him, swinging back, gradually gaining momentum. He swung forward again, before unhooking his cane. He sailed through the air, and over the gate, landing softly on his feet. He picked himself up before moving onward.


"Welp, I'm bored," Dougie declared, before sitting up and making her way to the back of the van.

"Where are you going?" Bentley asked.

"To stretch my legs, and see the sights." she replied, opening the rear doors and stepping out into the storm outside. She felt the chilling rain pelt her face, but it was something she found quite soothing. She stretched her arms in the air, in an attempt to relieve the stiffness she was experiencing from lounging in the van.

Bentley... that turtle was certainly something. He was... cute. He was very smart, and despite her memory loss, Dougie found she could follow a lot of what he was talking about. And he was very kind; he was the reason she was in Wales, instead of wandering the streets of Paris alone. She was grateful for his decision. She sighed. Once she figured out who she was, she would have to go her own way. But she didn't want to. There was something about this group of friends that pulled her in. There was Sly, who was a joker, and always kept cool and confident. As far as Dougie was concerned, Murray was an absolute sweetheart, a big softie who wouldn't hurt a fly. His enthusiasm for helping his friends was heartwarming.

But she had taken an instant liking to Bentley, but she had no idea what it was that was making her feel this way.

I like him, she thought, but do I like him?

She angrily sighed. She had enough problems to deal with.

"Dougie!" Bentley's nasally voice rang out from the van. "Get back in here, you'll catch a cold!"

She smiled. There he is, keeping an eye on me again. She wandered back to the van, where Bentley was talking through his binocucom again.

"Sly's made it into Raleigh's fortress," Bentley said proudly.

"Nice one," Dougie replied with a smile and a thumbs-up. Soon, they would have the first few pages of the Thievius Raccoonus, and Dougie was beginning to like this thieving lifestyle.

Maybe this could work, she thought.