A/N: LoL, I stole the title of this chapter from the Newspaper title in Sly1, after Carmelita nabs Raleigh, the frog dude. I saw, in that level, you can open one of the safe things and get the ball rolling maneuver from SALLY COOPER, so that confirms it… more Cooper babes. And that, ladies and gents, is what playing the darn series will help with! Over 4 people said to kill Donovan. One person says to keep him around for a while, but we're almost to the next 'slow' chapter. So… As promised, I'm going to compromise. If it was everyone asking all at once for him to die, I'd have started that way, but instead, I'll make a compromise… and not kill him RIGHT away. Not to say there aren't several other super natural gang members out there, working to rebuild one of their favorite pawns… As far as Clockwerk, the hate-chip is now floating around in the wrong paws. This is another 'action-paced chapter', in the theme of the Lambada. Let's just see what happens, shall we! AND away we go! Let's just see how that compromise works out! Weee!
Chapter 6: "Hot woman with big guns"
Another gunshot ripped through the void; it crossed the room and slammed into the wall, just a few inches from the granular floor tiles. Carmelita growled softly, her fur becoming ruffled. Leading up until now, she had pulled the trigger to blow a hole through his neck and before she realized what had happened, he'd sunk into the shadow beneath her feet. Suddenly, her body lifted upwards; Donovan threw her across the room.
The Vixen was smart enough to land on one of the tables, getting another shot off, but now he was getting away and for that, he would pay. She hopped back across the table, lifting both pistols and opening fire once again. Her nimble footed maneuvering brought her across the desktops, safely above where explosives had been set by tripwires that connected each desk, near the flooring.
He'd already disappeared from the office and into the stairwell. Carmelita leapt off the final desk, scurrying out of the office, in hot pursuit. She dashed into the stairs, adjacent to the elevator, and took each step two at a time. There was no time to lose. She still had plenty of ammunition, after all.
Once Inspector Fox got to the third floor, she stopped in front of the door, took a moment of recess from the chase then stepped through, into the hallway, pausing once more to use her ears. Absolute silence. The suspended cop glanced about herself, furtively, then she began to proceed further into the room.
Her eyes dropped to the floor and she tilted her head, noting the plush, thick carpet here. She was on the opposite side of the third story office building where she'd come in through the vent earlier. This was different. The posh carpeting swallowed her feet with every step, as the vixen ventured further out upon it.
She crept through it. The forest of carpet was nearly ankle high and the sound was practically loud enough to break the silence from being absolute. Every step mimicked the sound of gritty ashes, strewn across gently textured rice paper. Each offered footfall was a brush of the most subtle fabric against the firm, confident steps of a sure-minded Vixen.
"I know you're here," She mused thoughtfully. Even her gracefully worded tones shattered the silence. A moment passed and the quiet returned, stifling all that her ears could perceive. The carpet wasn't conducive to acoustics, making it hard to hear where her prey could be stalking.
The shine of her semi-automatic pistols reflected the recessed lightning above her; the pointed ears upon Carmelita's head began to lower, flattening against those dark azure locks of her hair. Soft amber eyes narrowed to slits, gazing about herself before pressing on slowly. He was here; he was setting some sort of trap. She knew it.
"I won't fall into your ambush, Donovan Loupe," Carmelita warned to the empty air around her. She grumbled in continuation, "Canis Lupus, I'm going to put you down, I don't even have room in my jail cell for you. Hmph, Loupé, Lupus, I get it… Your last name is 'wolf'. That's real clever."
"No, you fool," Came his aloof voice, seemingly from out of nowhere. "It's pronounced 'loop'. It's a magnifying reticule used for seeing jewels up close. I'm a jeweler, you twit."
Carmelita smiled to herself. Her tactic worked; he revealed his very presence in the room. She knew she hadn't been alone; proving her hunch to be correct was important as she could keep her guard up. Her ears rose, trying to pinpoint where his voice came from. She lifted her left pistol and shot out one of the recessed lighting tracts in the ceiling. The room dimmed considerably and she narrowed her eyes, looking about herself.
Her right paw lifted, shooting out the lighting on the other side of the corridor. She was nearly cast into pitch black now, with the only illumination pouring in from further down the hall. The vixen's eyes were squinted shut; she knew she needed for her eyes to adjust.
"And what is the point of such, little fool?" Came the voice. She grinned inwardly, hearing the direction from which Donovan spoke. Her eyes snapped open, and there he stood, by the wall.
"No lighting means one thing: no shadows are being cast," She mused, pointing her guns in his direction, opening fire. The bullets ripped from the muzzle, slamming into the wall, following him as he ran down the vestibule, towards the light at the end of the hallway. He had quite a lead and, despite his head start, she was already catching up.
"This atrium isn't large enough for the both of us. Only one of us will walk out of this vestibule," He called back in reply, heading towards the larger reception area. She followed him through the gloomy antechamber, firing in his departing direction. Anticipating each gunshot, she blinked each time she pulled the trigger, so the gun flash didn't compromise her dilated vision.
The pistols were deafening, being used indoors. By the time they reached the next room, which was well illuminated, her ears were ringing. Carmelita crept out into the room, staying cautious. Shadows made no sound; her eyes were the important things. Out of the corner of her gaze, she noticed movement and quickly rolled away from it.
Her shadow had begun to grow longer and she was quick to stay away from it. Quite suddenly, two tendrils reached up from the abyss of nothingness; from beneath doors and tables throughout the large room that looked like a recreational conference area or some sort of multipurpose ballroom. She avoided them by jumping up, upon the nearest table. If she could get back into a room that was dark or even brightly illuminated and empty of objects, she could lie on the floor and avoid the shadows. This was going to be difficult, to say the least.
At the end of the room, she spotted Donovan and quickly ripped off two shots, one from each weapon. He brought the sinister arms backwards, as if to use them as a protective shield. The further the bullets had to travel through the tar-like substance, the slower their velocity became. Finally they ripped through the other end of the shadow and he lifted his palm to catch them as if they were but mere stones.
Both caps were dropped to the carpet and a grin tugged at the right corner of his muzzle. "Ready to tango, foxy lady?"
"Only if you let me lead," She replied with a smirk. "I plan to step all over your toes," She promised with a hint of challenge, before leaping off the table and tearing through the duel pistol magazines…
Sly's head ached. His body was ever alert and yet his mind and joints ached. The raccoon rubbed at his left wrist, favoring it for a moment in the palm of his right paw before switching his right wrist to his left paw. He reproached the cell bars, shaking his head slowly. This was getting him nowhere. If he could get Karla back in here, he could some how persuade her to bring him out of the cell by offering charm. It's what she wanted, after all. He could easily use it to escape.
To his surprise, there were subdued footsteps coming from the far end of the hallway. The squeak of a door being opened could be heard then the resounding steps; but now, they were no longer muffled. Solid clicks of confident footfalls filled Sly's ears. He readied himself for anything.
Suddenly, his body betrayed him. He felt his knees going weak and his lower lip was beginning to tremble. It was nothing like he'd ever felt before. His heart began to pound and yet, all he was able to do was question himself. The bars seemed to incandesce, bathing his cell in their own measure of inner illumination. Almost fearfully, Sly placed his paws upon the metallic cylinders which brightened right there in his palms.
There was no heat, the metal remained cool, making him wonder if this was some sort of mental experience like vertigo or a trick. Light, as Bentley might say, was nothing more than rapidly moving molecules. The faster they moved, the more light was generated, but rapid movement and microscopic friction, and all that stuff, created heat. In something as simple as metal, these bars should have been getting warm, if not hot.
The first thing Sly could see, from the left, was a well polished pair of shoes. His knees gave out on him and the Raccoon sunk to a kneeling position, against his own will.
"Procyon Lotor," said the man in a musically soft, baritone voice. It was soothing and pure of tone. Just the simple words spoken put Sly's heart at ease, despite the confusion he was experiencing. It continued, "Your presence has fulfilled its usefulness. However, I respect Karla's wish to spare your life. You are now her responsibility. If you cause me trouble, I've made it clear that she will receive punishment in your stead. Once gone, your life will be forfeit. You are now a symbiant being. Don't cause any trouble or you both die."
Sly waited until his breath was drawn in again, as he didn't have control of his own body at the moment; it was like being petrified. He tried to open his mouth to speak but nothing happened. He tried to clinch his fists but nothing happened. His eyes were simply affixed to the vision of Bishonen perfection. The youthful looking Lion, whose mane framed his face in such a way that he looked… beautiful, gave a Cheshire smile and it caused Sly's heart to skip a beat.
Sly couldn't even ask who he was. The almost-boyish featured, yet otherworldly beast knelt to Sly's level, upon one knee, resting his arms across one another, atop of that singular raised knee. His gaze met with Sly's own stare and the Raccoon found that he couldn't do a single thing. The lion arched his back, leaning forward, so that his nose was only inches from Sly's own snout.
"Right now," Said the king of all creatures, "Your mind is screaming. You're on the brink of an emotional breakdown. Even though your emotions are clear, you can think of nothing else but how surprised you are that all you can do is whatever I tell you."
Sly simply blinked. "Oh!" Exclaimed the incredibly beautiful lion. His delicate visage was tilted to the side and his grin melted into a genuine smile. "You have incredible willpower. I've not seen a simple mortal man blink at me in decades. I'm impressed. So be it." To his words, Sly replied once more with a blink. He begged for his body to react but to his shock and dismay, nothing happened.
"Lay upon your stomach for me, Sly Cooper," The lion told him, through the glowing bars. The affluent dressed, magnificent beast seemed to have an aura that Sly could have sworn was plainly visible. Sly wanted to gasp but was unable, finding his body move to the floor, flat upon the cool concrete. His muzzle slipped through the bars and his left cheek lay upon the tip of those polished shoes. He felt disgust deep down in his chest, where his real intentions burned to be free.
"You may simply call me, SIRE. Everyone else refers to me that way, in third person." The beast reached through the bars, scritching the trembling raccoon behind his right ear for a moment. "The immense power of your will impresses me. Most people flop over like fish when I demand for them to lie down. Most can't blink either. I'm very impressed."
The feelings of disgust begin to mutate into anger and loathing. Sly retreated into his mind. This was the most insulting moment of his present life. His eyes never shut but his mind was now returning to that of his father's story telling and the days of youth. He'd just spent the last twenty minutes on the older man's knee, listening to tales of the Thevious Raccoonus.
The door was kicked in. A tiny bullfrog grew into a massive rotund size, once he was in through the door. He landed on the kitchen table, flattening it. Behind him, another guy rushed in, and more beyond. Sly used to feel helpless and useless at times he thought back on that moment. He'd done well to avenge his family but sometimes he just felt upset by the simple thought. Tonight was different. He felt anger. His vengeance was not fulfilled as he once thought.
Someone behind Clockwerk had ordered this and they had to pay. His rage coursed through his body, his head jerked up and his paws relocked around the bars and his muzzle parted, ready to shout but the hallway on the other side of the bars was empty. The bars no longer had their glowing luster. He was alone.
Or was he?
Standing up, he brushed himself off, then whirled around only to gasp. Karla was sitting on the bench at the back of his cell. Those widened black pupils shrunk and the raccoon's tail fluffed up in disgust. "Get out of my cell unless your intent is to release me."
"Mm, I'll show you release," She replied playfully, shaking her head slowly and adding, "I'm not here to turn you loose unless it's on my body; that's beside the point. I'm here to tell you I'm impressed at your will power. If you've the ability to blink at him and you had the composure to keep from throwing your body at him, when he asked you to lie down, my chances of seducing you are next to impossible."
"You can say that again," Sly chuckled. The gray-furred raccoon folded his arms across his chest, looking at her as if he didn't already know she just saw him laying on the shoe of some man. He acted as if he wasn't embarrassed in the least, regardless of how awkward he felt.
"You don't understand, Monsieur Cooper," she said, almost urgently. "Most people stay almost comatose after a visit from him. They stay that way until they go catatonic or starve to death or wake up days later with their eyes nearly dried out. As soon as he shut the door behind himself, you screamed in anguish. Don't think he didn't hear it upon his departure. He's undoubtedly impressed as well."
"Well gee," Sly grunted, reaching one arm over his shoulder to playfully pat himself on the back. "Aren't I proud of myself?"
"You should be," Karla snapped. "I'm only able to talk to him because he wills me to conversation. He eases up on his majestic potency, dims his aura and allows me to be released from his powerful ability of sheer presence. He's the only man I know who's far more attractive than you, Sly."
"Then what's your attraction in me all about?" Sly quipped. "Why not chase after his tail?"
"He's a supernatural. I've wanted one thing since playing with handmade dolls as a child," Karla explained with a slight sigh. "To enjoy the simplicities of mothering. I understand that some mothers in the world struggle alone. The finances, the emotional stress, the need to need when they're over-needed; I just wanted the stereotypical happiness of mothering like in a story book. If you bring me that diamond, I will bare your children for you, Sly Cooper. You'll restore your family bloodline. We'll repopulate the world with Cooper Children."
"I've got a prospective mother who will teach my children left from right, black from white and right from wrong," Sly explained. "With her as their mother, they'll have no choice but to learn how to be the sneakiest of the sneaky. Besides, as much as I like older women, I don't really care for the ones old enough to be my great grand mother's great, great grandmother," Cooper chuckled in mockery of the fact that she claimed to be hundreds of years old.
"Why, Sly Cooper," Chintzy giggled in reply, "I thought you were an open-minded man. What, with your disregard for the law but adoration for a cop, I'd have thought you'd be the kind who was willing to try anything."
"You're hot," Sly admitted while refolding his arms, "But you're not her; there's no history and you're no challenge. I could have said all the right words and had you wrapped around my paw if I wanted; you're practically throwing yourself at me," the raccoon noted. Karla's response was one of being insulted.
"Wh- How dare you!" She exclaimed. Karla stood up and drew her paw back. Sly flipped his right paw outwards, blocking her attempt at slapping his face. She almost blushed in reply. His strong grip wrapped around her wrist sent Goosebumps down her spine. "You have no power over me," She promised him.
"You're not as good of a liar as I thought," Sly said, putting his other paw on her shoulder and giving her a polite shove. Regardless of the fact that she was superior in the art of combat, he never physically mishandled a female. There was no honor in that.
"I hate you," She told him with an almost heartbreaking sob. "A woman's best friend and worst enemy is her heart. You don't remember me, but I remember you," She said, leaning to kiss his cheek softly before disappearing. Her teleportation brought her onto the other side of the jail cell bars. She walked away, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at him for a moment. "I can't do as I please while I work for him. The Sire is too strong. I'm only lucky he's given me your life. If you had the power to free me of him, I'd even go so far as to leave you alone. But that's impossible." And with that, she disappeared again, teleporting out of the room.
Sly stood there a moment, rubbing his eyes before turning back to his jail bench. "Carmelita. I want Carmelita. Karla's hot and means well, but I don't love her," he reminded himself. "Why do I always go after the one that's a challenge?" He couldn't help but chuckle. He knew who he loved. It wasn't Karla Chintzy.
The Sire pushed open the double doors to the laboratory. Inside, there was a floating wheelchair-like object, hovering near a desk. On the far end of the room, massive wings hung from the wall. On the opposite side of the room, half of the hulking frame of Clockwerk was under construction.
"What, my dear boy, are you working on?" Asked the nearly effeminate lion. A gentle paw was placed upon the genius' shoulder. The scientist's over-powered brain was the only mind that wasn't affected by Sire's power. The brilliant scientist crossed his left leg over his right knee, leaning back into the hovering chair, a comfortable contraption, indeed.
"I've finished rebuilding the processing network where the Hate Chip directly powers his mental center," Came the reply. One thing about The Sire's scientist, he was intelligent enough to explain things to people around him so that anyone could understand him, regardless of who was his audience. His patience was equally legendary. "The last version of Clockwerk was flawed," Explained the science guru.
"Explain his flaw, would you?" Sire asked.
"He was fallible," Said the genius, "Because he only knew revenge. That's why he had me build his mind and body several hundred years ago. He wanted to be closer to perfection. In the end, I gave him the perfect body but not the perfect mind in which to protect himself. Truth and love always overcomes hatred, even if it doesn't happen right away. He never saw truth as something able to destroy him; he believed in power alone."
"Your proposed solution?" asked the gentle-faced feline. Soft cobalt eyes seemed to shimmer but his powers never worked on the scientist. Mind over matter was just that to a man of mind over myth. The scientist had fashioned a chip to fit his frontal lobe that made it so he was protected from the powers of his peers.
The scientist, looking no older than 30, stole a glance at his long-time friend. "I'm rebuilding Clockwerk as he was, but within his preserved brain, I'm adding the ability to use actual, mathematical logic." The inventor and engineer had already managed to learn how to deactivate his aging gene. He was just as fragile of a man as any other if he was fighting paw to paw, but the scholarly skunk learned how to engineer his body before the marvel of modern medicine.
His ability to heal mortal wounds within minutes was incredible and his body never aged or grew old. His flesh and fur always seemed so very young and healthy. The Sire knew his name, but he didn't care to know the Sire's name.
The powerful and yet beautiful visage of the lion turned his back on the long-time scientific friend. "Steven," The feline nearly whispered.
"Yes?" The skunk said off-handedly as if he was hardly paying attention to anything other than what he was doing.
"You're truly sure about this diamond's properties? We've chased it for a long time. I just need your reaffirmation," The lion mused.
"It will work. Just have… what the religious people have. You know… Faith," Said Steven. The Skunk returned to his work, beginning to ignore the lion. It was the Sire's one pet peeve. He had the ability to command the attention of the whole world's population if he truly wished it and yet he couldn't stand it when one person had the ability to simply ignore his very existence.
Sire moved through the hallway, ignoring the gunshots on the other side of the wall. 'Donovan will handle that one,' he thought to himself. The doors at the end of the hallway were brushed apart and he approached the cell in the middle of the hall, turning to face Sly.
Cooper had stood up to see who was coming just in time to be forced to the ground by The Sire's simple suggestion. Sly wanted only to ball his fists up and shout in protest but he was forced to the floor and his will was gone. His eyes shut and he pushed his mind anywhere but here; it was incredibly difficult, however.
"Where is the pendant? I ask you to speak for me, Mister Sly Cooper." His musical voice was nearly intoxicating. He was so beautiful and in Sly's eyes, he was surrounded by an ethereal aura. Sly's trembling voice was offered in reply directly after the question.
"The remains of my Family's Vault," He told the Lion.
"Such a shame," Sire mused softly. "Doctor M. was just as great of a failure as Clockwerk proved to be. Your family had no right stealing that diamond from Clockwerk, in the first place. We should have never involved your family," He explained with a slow shake of his head. "Had they not meddled in our plans, they'd have had a long, prosperous lineage with no problems. Their interference is not your fault, however, my dear boy."
Sly's pupils dilated. The Cooper curse of fighting Clockwerk truly was the fault of this man. He listened in horrid detail as The Sire continued, "I had no intention of ordering the death of your immediate family members. It was the last straw when Clockwerk couldn't get the location of your vault out of that fellow, McSweeny. When we killed your father and family members, we were hoping that the book we found would do one of two things: Tell us where your vault was hidden, or bring another Cooper out of hiding to ask them. McSweeny told us, in order to keep us from killing you. Doctor M set up shop and became a failure. Later, I hear McSweeny told you, so that you could stop Doctor M… stop me from obtaining what's rightfully mine."
Sly felt, for the first time, true rage overtake his heart and soul. His mind, for the first time that he could remember, was clouded and his judgment abandoned him. There was despair and hurt in the past. There was anger and pure rage, now. Sly's fingertips fluttered, slowly drawing inwards.
The Sire continued his sadistic banter and the more he spoke, the more Sly grew angry. The raccoon never experienced such animosity before. Even when he hunted down the murderers of his family, he kept a calm, cool mind so as not to make a mistake by acting on clouded judgment. How he felt right now was completely different. His fingers continued to curl until he was literally laying face down, held up by his knuckles.
The longer The Sire's sparkling repartee continued, the angrier Sly grew until the rage consumed him, deep down inside. Just the mere presence of the Bishonen Lion was enough to fuel the ire that boiled in the pit of Sly's gut. He was kneeling before the man who boisterously admitted to causing his family grief, strife and pain for generations. This man was solely responsible, as the ultimate thief, for robbing Sly of his childhood.
Much to the lion's surprise, Sly pushed upwards on his knuckles until his elbows locked. Struggling against the willpower-suppressing abilities, the raccoon's mind was gone and he was literally at the quintessence of a stifled frenzy. The rage that filled the youthful Sly Cooper was enough to nearly poison the young man's mind; it was powerful enough for him to rise up, slowly, to his knees now.
"My, my. That's certainly never happened," Sire mused in an almost delighted voice. "If I were to release you right now, I'm sure those bars would not hold you back. I'm sure you're so far beyond enraged that you can't even hear a word I'm telling you, boy."
Sly continued to rise up until he was standing. His eyes burned with the pure desire for revenge. A slow trickle of drool hung from his muzzle and his usually calm gaze seemed clouded over; milky like cataracts. His right paw lifted, sliding between the bars, reaching out for The Lion's throat. His paws quavered violently, acting through his subconscious. His body no longer had a will to submit to The Sire; he was acting off of pure instinctual frenzy.
"Now, now. Place your paw in your mouth, boy." Sire gave the most brilliant smile. His teeth were the color of pearl, like the season's first snow fall. His eyes glistened like the reflection of the moon in the calmest sea.
Sly only saw red. His paw lunged forward and his body was pressed up against the bars, snatching the front of the Lion's shirt. He struggled to fight the Lion's powers and the adrenaline in his body was causing his fur to stand on end and for the raccoon's dexterous digits to tremble with rage. Before the Sire could see it coming, his own body was drawn forward, slamming into the bars, so that he was eye to eye with Cooper.
"Quite… impressive, boy," The lion whispered in reply. "I've seen men who couldn't even stand up when I forced them to watch my people tear apart their wife and children. You've impressed me and proven your point."
In reply to the calmly spoken words, Sly hissed a guttural noise that sounded something like, "Die." Before Sly could comprehend what happened next, the Lion disappeared from his grasp. Sire reappeared on the other end of the hallway, standing besides Karla Chintzy.
"You told me that I'm responsible for his actions and behavior," She mused. "But you antagonizing him was not part of the deal," She explained in a respectful voice. "I would have pulled you out of his grasp earlier but up until Monsieur Cooper took you by surprise just now, your power was in full effect and I didn't have the willpower to rush to your aid, My Liege."
Sire slowly shook his head with a somewhat awkward sounding chuckle. "That would have been an ironic death by means of pure satire; unable to receive aid because of my own powers that were evolved to be my greatest weapon and defense."
"Indeed, Master. I'll handle him. Go, change your shirt; it's ripped," She replied, offering him a polite smile. Sire nodded slowly then left the room, tugging at the bottom of his garment, straightening the wrinkles in his clothing that were caused from Sly.
Once gone, she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the majestic presence fade and her true willpower return. She rushed towards the bars, seeing Sly pulling on two of them with his paws. To her surprise and complete dismay, he'd already managed to bend the solid iron about two centimeters apart.
"SLY! He's GONE!" She shouted. Her body disappeared and reappeared inside the cell with him, wrapping her paws around his waist and trying to pry him away from the metal poles that were slightly less than straight now.
Sly lost his balance and tumbled to the floor, landing on his knuckles. His breathing was a labored panting; his heart was beating wildly. Such anger was completely uncharacteristic of him. Never one for rage, his mind returned and the adrenaline began to recede. His energy ebbed away, like sand trickling through an hour glass. His stomach iced over and his chest tightened up. His body ached from stressing his muscles and he suddenly felt weak. The raccoon rolled over onto his back, panting softly.
"You're tense; want a massage?" She asked.
"Go away," Sly whispered between each stressed breath. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to move. His body was still quivering from the after-effects of the over stimulated tightening of his muscles.
"You can probably bench-press your hippo friend, after that physical workout," She chuckled softly. The half-breed Felox came to sit besides him, offering the softest smile.
"What do you want? I said go away," Sly replied, but with an air of defeat in his voice. He should have been able to bend those bars, grab the lion and literally pull Sire's body into pieces with nothing more than his bare paws, but he had to give his all just to grab the lion's shirt and that was in an attempt to reach for the man's throat.
"You're the only person I've ever seen stand up to him," She explained. "You have the ability to kill him; we have to help each other. If I'm going to get out from under his powers, I need to make sure you're there to rip him apart."
"He made me hurt in a way no one's ever hurt me before," Sly explained, looking rather ill. "I can't let myself get that mad without some way to release it; I feel awful."
"It'll pass," She said with a slight grin tugging at the corner of her muzzle. "I've seen drug junkies go through the same thing if they don't get their fix. The chemical in your blood is rushing out of your system. It's making you feel sick; it'll pass."
Suddenly, Sly rolled away from her and clinched his eyes shut. His stomach emptied and hot bile rushed up his esophagus, racing to the floor. The stomach acids burned at the back of his throat but shortly afterwards, the feeling of nausea began to pass, finally.
"I'll be back later. You're my key to get rid of The Sire. I was wrong, you're quite an impressive man," She said, patting his shoulder before disappearing from the cell and reappearing on the other side of the bars. She stood there for a moment, offering a longing gaze before leaving.
Sly sat up, rubbing his muzzle against the backside of his shirt sleeve. He shook his head hard, left to right, trying to shake off the effects of dizziness. Crawling up onto the jail-cell bench, the raccoon pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, sitting in the fetal position while his body went through the end stages of a sudden chemical downer. The adrenaline was gone, the rush was over. His teeth began to chatter for just a moment.
There was a huge difference between having a typical rush of a natural high, and having every fiber of one's being completely saturated with a dose of adrenaline. If he wasn't fighting Sire's powers, he was pretty sure he would have been able to take even Murray in an arm wrestling match, without breaking a sweat.
Carmelita was at her best, right now. At the top of her game, everything felt clear and she knew she was in her element. Another shadowy limb reached out at her. She jumped forward, tucking her knees to her stomach and forcing her weight so that her body rotated into a somersault. The tendril of shade passed beneath her, and her legs extended, landing firmly upon her feet.
The vixen broke into a sprint, drawing her pistols forwards, shooting two more rounds at Donovan. Blood ran down from the wound on his shoulder, leaving those fresh, crimson droplets in the carpet. She'd followed the path throughout the third floor, knowing he was going to run out of steam before long. The other wound in his paw was no better, leaving her that much more of a sanguine trail to follow.
An arm of obtenbration gloom reached out from behind the fox and wrapped around her waist, throwing her across the room at the nearest wall. She flipped her body over, mid air, so that her feet touched the wall. She pushed off of it, after absorbing the shock in her legs as if landing from a hard fall, only her landing was against a vertical bulkhead.
Bounding off the wall, Carmelita dashed forward, firing two more shots into a column, up ahead of the fleeing timber wolf. The wooden pillar snapped and an ornamental archway collapsed, causing two pieces of curved wood to fall, catching Donovan across his face. The wolf fell to the floor with a grunt of shock.
Carmelita approached him slowly, pointing the guns in his face. Suddenly, the shadow tendrils threw two potted plants at her from either direction. She crossed her arms, firing her right gun to the left, and her left gun to the right, shattering both pots. Her guns clicked empty, the slide ejected and stayed in the cock-back position.
The Inspector growled softly, fur bristling on the back of her neck. She leveled the guns at him, regardless to the fact that she lacked ammunition. The muzzles of each weapon touched Donovan's cheek and her eyes narrowed in disgust.
"Clever criminal," She muttered.
"Why thank you, my dear," Loupe replied with a grin. "You're quite a warrior woman, aren't you?" She offered no reply. He added, "Yes, the Valkyrie Vixen has outfoxed me, tonight. But that won't happen in the future, doll."
"If there is a future," Carmelita snapped, "I'll bring more bullets."
"Now that you've earned my respect, I'm beginning to realize that you're a rather attractive young lady," Donovan told her in a pleasant tone.
"Now that you're beaten? You like a dominative women?" Carmelita chided playfully, panting softly, after such a thorough run of the building.
"Oh it will be so interesting to see you face The Sire," Donovan chuckled in reply. The wolf shook his head slowly. Carmelita noticed he had a trickle of blood running down over his brow, from where he'd connected with the piece of wood that she'd caused him to run into. "I can see it now, little girl. He'll smile, tell you to put your guns to your head and pull the trigger. I hope he makes Sly Cooper watch you do it to yourself."
"Your ceaseless, annoying… prattle is starting to piss me off," She told him, followed by, "So shut up."
"Shut me up," Donovan chuckled. "What're you going to do about it? You're out of bullets, remember?" He teased in reply. Without a second thought in the matter, Carmelita raised her right paw and brought the pistol across his face, whipping him with it. The force of impact was so great, it immediately rendered Donovan unconscious.
"No problem," She muttered in a terse rebuttal, adding, "Criminal," as if the word was a pure insult. She placed both pistols against his head and pulled the trigger. There was a sharp, crisp snap. The action was understood but the lack of ammunition made it more of an empty threat. "You're lucky I don't have handcuffs on me. I need to finish you off before you cause me more trouble later."
She stood up, putting both guns into the front of her pants, then frowned. She still had to find Sly. A paw went to her ear and she exclaimed aloud, "Bentley!"
Over the radio, the startled turtle seemed to have jumped out of his own shell. "Gah! Buh, uhm… What? I've not located Sly; wherever they have him, he's not sitting in front of a security camera. Their surveillance equipment doesn't show every corner of the building's interior. Most likely, there are blind spots on purpose."
"I can't be far," She muttered in reply, over the communication's patch. "I need more bullets before he wakes up," She said, trailing off. A soft noise behind her grabbed the femme fatale's attention. She turned about, to see Donovan sitting up. He quickly raised his paws and thick tendrils of shade began to rise from beneath her.
Before he could react, she pulled a pistol out of the front of her pants and struck him across the side of his head with such power that he dropped back to the ground. A scarlet trickle of garnet-hued liquid ran down the side of his head followed by another, thicker glob of rich, dark vitae. His skull was cracked. She narrowed her eyes, watching the expression of his body. He went completely limp for the time being. "Never mind," She added. "Riga mortis will be setting in soon." Before Inspector Fox could so much as reflect on what just transpired, she turned and headed out of the room. "Time to find Cooper."
A/N: I always give the fans/readers what they want :) Someone asked to keep Donovan alive for a while; his powers interest her. So I did for a while! I kept him alive for 13 more pages:D Since the rest of you gave a thumbs up – roman style cry for death, I made sure he didn't see the beginning of Chapter 7. Are you guys ready for Carmelita and Sly to see each other again? What will happen? Sparks flying or another bout with awkward? How about a little of both! It's time to learn what (may have) happened after they got together at the end of Sly3… and why they're not happily planning what color napkins they want at their marriage… Let's just look and see the history there… And let's just see how Karla, Steven, Sire and Clockwerk play into this, hmm? And what about Bentley and Penelope? We shall see… Remember, the main character of this story is Carmelita Montoya Fox. It's her tale. And if she doesn't hurry, it's going to be Sly's tail!
-Kit