A/N: Short Author's Note, today. See? lol

I noticed, in Sly2, that Bentley talks to himself (the player, really) when running over a plan in his head. That's how this chapter starts.

:D

Chapter: 9 "Duplicity"

The soliloquy lasted several moments. This dramatic form of discourse continued until Penelope came back into the two-bench stall, folding her paws in front of herself, watching Bentley in the train booth for a moment. The train jolted gently as it began the process of light deceleration, heading towards the station hub-bypass, still a short way from the Chezh Republic border. They were still a solid distance away from their destination at this point.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Bentley mused thoughtfully, "I'm just trying to work out some sort of plan in my head; when we get there, we'll be under stress to get back into the Bank before Clockwerk's construction can be completed." The explanation had only just escaped his lips when the train shuttered hard and began to decelerate quickly. "What in the world!" Exclaimed Bentley, reaching to pull Penelope away from the booth wall.

The lights flickered. Two carry on bags shifted from their position on the shelf above the booth seating, slamming into the ground where Penelope had been standing less than a moment prior. The jade-hues of his flesh-colored fingertips ran through the soft white fur of her body, pulling her close then pausing when he realized just how close they were.

Having saved her from, at-most, a nasty bump on the head, she melted into his embrace for that moment. He finally shifted his weight against the seating, pressing his shell into the backrest. His heart was beating so hard that he was afraid she could feel it through the soft pallet over his chest. She did feel it and covered herself by offering a nasal voice. "My, it's warm in here; is it perhaps the temperature or the proximity?"

She simply slid off of his lap then folded her arms, looking out the window for a moment, trying to decide if she should sit besides him or not. Only she could bring a flushed crimson tint to the face of a green-fleshed man. His fierce blushing was rather adorable.

Deciding better on the situation, Penelope simply ran her fingers through the soft fur between her ears, looking pensive with thought. She flopped into the seat besides him, watching out the window as the train finally came to a stop. The light rain that was spotting the window back in Paris had now become snow flurries outside. The lights of their passanger car fizzled out; darkness.

Back on the Paris mezzanine earlier, above the train tracks, she remembered something similar to this closeness happening with Bentley. She soaked up every chance she got, she knew he did the same when he thought he could get away with it. There was simply no reason they weren't dating by now. They both wanted to, but nerd-love was a touch more complex than most realized.

The truth was, they had become roommates and neither geek knew how to go about having a relationship. Because of the apartment living situation, cute little things like this would happen from time to time and they would try to ignore their personal feelings concerning each incident, but she couldn't deny that the touch of his hands had felt nice, sifting through her fur just a moment prior to now.

Between the breakdown, the snow and a late departure, Penelope had to wonder what else was in store for them. "Maybe, if we make it to Prague, I'll kiss the ground of the concourse," She joked, in reference to Christopher Columbus kissing the American Beach upon his first arrival. "What's in your bag that it was so loud?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder at the outline of luggage on the floor at their feet.

The tortoise tilted his head and chuckled awkwardly. "Something that I was really hoping would get me noticed at the convention; shame I didn't have time to unleash it. They're a possible replacement for my wheelchair," Bentley explained. "I'll show you when we get there… if we get there."

"Do you want me to go and see what is holding us up?" She asked. Afterall, it would be easier for her to simply walk down the hall than for him to get up, with his wheelchair folded up in the corner.

He tilted his head in reply then cleared his throat before speaking. "Hmm, in the dark? Let's wait; there could be a good deal of confusion. I'll see how far we are from the Prague station," Bentley said, pulling the duffle that was besides him throughout the trip, onto his lap. He drew out a small machine and turned it on. The illumination of a 5 inch screen brightened the otherwise dark train booth.

Penelope could see the reflection of his gadget in the glass sliding door that closed their seating off to the rest of the train for privacy. It was about the size of a palm pilot. He mashed a few buttons on the gadget, just beneath the screen, then glanced up at her and offered a confirming nod.

Bentley cleared his throat then said, "According to GPRS, we're still a few miles from the Czech boarder. That give us about 190 miles of travel to make it to Prague, give or take; there's no mileage or kilometer indicators on the screen, here." It was a home made device, for sure. That would have to be a future addition, when he got a chance to tinker with the hand-held device in the future.

"Sounds about right," Penelope mused, glancing out the window. There was a pickup truck driving alongside the tracks; the headlights glanced along the side of the bullet train's fuselage. Penelope picked up the Binoc-u-com from Bentley's bag and peered into it, trying to zoom in on the truck.

"It's a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog," She mused, glancing back at him for a moment. "He doesn't look friendly. He's pulling his truck parallel to the train."

"That's odd; maybe he's an off-duty officer, coming to check on the train," Bentley said, shaking his head slowly. "The probability of that being the case is fairly slim."

"We can only hope; I, unfortunately, don't have a good feeling about it," She agreed, placing the Binocular Communicator back in Bentley's bag. "Two hundred miles is a solid distance. From the angle I had, it looked like the truck is a stick-shift; can you drive one of those?"

"It just so happens," Bentley said proudly, "I learned to drive a stick in India. (A/N: Sly2: BoT)"

"He's boarding the train," Penelope noted, standing at the window, watching down the side of the car as best she could see from her vantage point. "Our tram-car."

"Guess we'll find out if he's hostile in a moment," The turtle muttered, reaching into his bag and pulling out a glass-cutting tool. "As much as we've stolen in our lives, I suppose it wouldn't hurt if we… borrowed that truck." He glanced over his shoudler at her, then shrugged slightly, reaching for his wheel-chair bike helmet. "I should have no problems with getting the vehicle to start without keys."

Penelope frowned slightly then offered a lopsided grin. "I'll hotwire it; you drive." She was going to say more, but suddenly a noise came from down the hall. It sounded as though one of the doors down the hallway was kicked in. The sound happened again, followed by a third instance. She blinked twice. "He's searching…"

The Czech Wolfdog kicked in each door, just beneath its glass top. Only the top third of the sliding doors were glass, but in the dark, the Wolfdog wasn't able to simply peer into each booth. The sliding doors crumbled beneath each powerful, swift kick of his boots.

Six doors down the hallway, the canine smashed yet another door down, only to blink at the cold wind that came in through a large trapazoid hole, in the window. Trapazoid, of all shapes. While it didn't make any sense to the headhunter, Bentley did it for his own, personal amusement. He would have to bring it up to Sly, later, to remind him about how stupid a trapazoid hole was, from d uring the hate-chip heist, earlier.

From the train's position, up on the tracks, he could see the lights of his pickup truck flash on. The Wolfdog's face went from that of being perplexed to shock and horror. How did they escape so quickly, let alone make it to his truck that fast? The window's hole was large enough for a full size adult to get through, with ease. Let alone a Wheelchair with a jetpack and two short people with duffle bags.

There were two large bags and a fancy looking wheel chair in the back of the truck's flatbed. The lights dimmed then fluttered with brightness and the brake lights flashed. A grinding sound could be heard from the vehicle down where it was, away from the tracks. The truck pointed alongside the train, facing east. Frustraited confusion returned. The hunter couldn't perceive the concept of a rocket-propelled wheelchair.

He blinked again, rushing to the window, watching as the pickup truck pulled away, picking up speed. From what he could see, there were two dark forms in the truck's cab. His eyes widened and a sharp curse was issued from off the tip of his tongue. They got away. The Sire was going to be pissed, if and when he finds out.

The unspoken key word was IF he finds out. It was time to make a phone call and try to slow the truck down when they pass through the next town, if he could.

The four of them, Murray, Sly, Carmelita and Karla made their way through the snow, heading towards a prospective safe-house, just a few blocks away. Bentley suggested about 10 full city blocks but Sly was in favor of something as close as possible with the cold. Icy rooftops would make treacherous travel, for sure.

Really, the snow was rather beautiful. It layered things in a fresh powdery blanket. It killed germs. It absorbed sound so well that they were surrounded by silence in every direction. It was all consuming, causing the night to feel as though it was suspended in a moment of temporary pause. It fell over the freshly plowed streets, covering the ever-lightly-present tracks left by the group as they passed through the dark avenue.

From the sound swallowing silence, even the ears of the Master Thief didn't pick up the approach of a group of business-clad men. All four henchmen were dressed the same: Black three-piece suite, long coat and leather gloves. They were stocky like a large dog species, but with the face of a wolf. Their footsteps were unheard and their shoulders were painted in that flawless pearl powder.

Murray glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "Sly!" The other three glanced behind themselves, watching the men approach. Murray pounded his right knuckles into his left palm. "They can't be allowed to follow us, we've got to stop them," He mumbled with the narrowing of his eyes.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Carmelita said, taking a long, slow breath, shaking her head. "We've got our work cut out for us; these guys look mean."

One of the men up front held a paw up, causing the other three to pause. "You know," Said the half-wolf half-dog, who was slightly taller than the other three. He continued, adding, "Every white crystal that flutters from this sky is like a frozen teardrop. Or, more accurately, the chilling ashes of a loved one, lost. Some people thought of Donovan Loupe as invincible. His death, however, is more than some simple insult; his death is the significant, symbolic sign of a change in these modern times."

The first man on the leader's right, added, "While astonished that a rag-tag band of motley misfits could bring Mister Loupe to his death, don't feel that it cannot or will not go un-avenged."

"Great," Sly said, shaking his head. "One goes down; four more poseurs pop up in his place. Let's show these guys what we think about rude followers and get on with it; I'm freezing my tail off!"

"I'm never going anywhere without my gun, ever again, I swear," Carmelita groused, half-crouching into an offensive position. Karla raised her paws, causing one of the half-lupine men in the back of the group to vanish and reappear directly in front of Carmelita and Murray. Both of them quickly threw punches to knock the first man off his guard. He stumbled back, surprised.

Another man ran towards Sly but Karla teleported him across the empty intersection, so that he reappeared just inches from a wall, slamming into it, in full sprint. "Throw a punch, Murray," She said, forcing the second attacker to vanish again and reappear in front of Murray's drawn fist. The hippo threw his weight into the punch, clocking the man as soon as he reappeared, knocking the well-dressed half-wolf clear across the intersection.

"How'd you do that?" Murray asked, drawing his fists up to be in a ready stance again.

"I'll explain later, just fight!" Karla exclaimed. She teleported the first man she'd picked on at the beginning of the fight, so that he was two hundred feet in the air, then released him back into linear time-space, causing him to plummet back to the ground. "Heads up, look out; It's Raining Men!" She exclaimed.

"REAL funny," Carmelita muttered, dodging the body that slammed into the snowy asphalt. The vixen leapt up, landing on the back of the fallen attacker's head, then bounded off of it, pouncing the next enemy attacker in line. It was 'go time', and the fight was on.

The combat lasted several moments and it was quickly turning into a stalemate. Sly took a few punches and even Murray was knocked to the ground at least once. Carmelita was holding her own, but all that mattered was that they were getting no where further into this fight. Finally, Karla just teleported the three protagonists out of the area, placing them into the next block down. She then went to work against the four remaining men.

Sly glanced around, somewhat confused. He stood back to back with Murray and Carmelita stood a few feet away. The entire group had been super-naturally transported to the next intersection over. Plump flakes of snow danced around them. Silence returned. Carmelita narrowed her eyes, turning to Sly and Murray. "I don't trust her. She might be in league with them."

"You're the most untrusting person I know," Sly chuckled. "Let's get out of here. Let her find us. I'm not going to be heart broken over a smaller team." He waved a paw in the direction they were originally heading. There was no time to waste, he wasn't worried about Karla; she could handle herself, or so it seemed.

"She's managed to teleport the whole team," Murray said, surprised about someone who had such an ability.

"Yeah, man," Sly chuckled awkwardly. "Third time this week and it's only Tuesday. Let's go, gang."

"She's been in league with them the whole time up to this point," Carmelita groused, following two thirds of the Cooper gang through the snowy street. It was time to set up shop, that was for sure. They found the decomissioned residental place, making their way passed the lock and into the abandoned apartment building.

Carmelita and Sly were left to figure out how to get the building's central-air heater working while Murray was given the task of rearranging rubble on the top floor, so they would have room to stretch out, let alone having room for whatever sort of equipment Bentley might be bringing.

The pickup truck shuttered. The wheel was shaking and the frame was rattling under the intense speed that 5th gear would allow. The needle shuttered at the verge of 160 kilometers per hour (100 Miles per hour). It was exactly double the speed of the posted sign they zipped passed, which read 80KPH with a circle around it.

"I hope we don't have to come to a sudden halt," Penelope mused softly, glancing over her shoulder, then bringing her gaze back to the road ahead of them. The snow was keeping other drivers off the highway but thankfully the road was a straight highway, no major turns.

"PRAHA (A/N: Chezh for "Prague")80km. We're 50 miles out of the city," Bentley said easing into the brakes to make a right, up ahead, as they passed through the highway system over the town of Karlovy Vary. Bentley eased back into the accelerator, until the truck was shaking again.

At this speed, they were now looking at an estimated arrival time of 20 minutes. "I'm rather surprised, we've not passed one law enforcement vehicle," Penelope mused thoughtfully.

"Don't jinks us," Bentley muttered, glancing into his rear view mirrors. He was the last person to believe in such nonesense but it wasmeant to break the tension.

"Why, Bentley, I've never known you to work with anything but probability," She noted, offering a slight smile.

The turtle glanced into his mirrors again, keeping the accelerator on the floor. "The probability of having something like that happen is too much to talk about until we've arrived… if, you know, if you don't mind. I'm just nervous, traveling at this speed."

"We could always slow down; I'm not suggesting that, of course," the mouse offered a slight smile.

"At this rate of speed, we should be making good time," Bentley repeated. But only time would tell. The thing is, time decided it wanted to tell them all too soon. Up ahead, Bentley spotted a road block and beyond, he could make out the shape of half-a-dozen men. As he grew closer, he could tell they were wearing black ties, dress jackets and long-coats. "I may not believe in the ability to jinks oneself, but I really feel like I should have kept my mouth closed," He said, turning to her, easing into the brakes and downshifting.

"This doesn't look very good," She admitted, straining against her seatbelt to lean forward, squinting at the blockade up ahead. "But I have an idea…."

The sniper rifle seemed to gleam in the midnight lighting of the nearest lamppost, outside the window. The shot would require skill but this man had just that: Talent and a steady paw. Sly Cooper stepped into the targeting reticule and Carmelita turned to face him in a confronting manner, so that both of them were lined up. Two kills with one high calibre round.

The bullet was in the bolt-action chamber and a finger came to touch the trigger. It was time to put an end to them both. The trigger was touched and a furry digit began to add pressure when suddenly a footstep was heard in the same room and the gunner's ears perked. He glanced up with only his peripheral vision when a bright bolt of pure electricity lanced free of an extended paw, from across the room.

The lightning arced across the small dwelling, slamming into the Sniper Rifle, which caused all 5 rounds to burst, completely blowing off the gunner's right paw, leaving him with a grizzly stump of rinded flesh. The half-wolf's jaw dropped in horror, shuttering involuntarily.

The shady man approached the quivering gunner, touching his own paw to the half-breed wolfdog's own bloody stump of a wrist, using the same lightning discharge technique, this time to cauterize the wound. A pair of lips brushed against the shocked gunner's ear, causing the animal to flinch.

"They… are… mine," Replied the Reaper in a soft, deep tone. His words had an aloof sort of tone to them, when spoken so calmly as this. The well-aged looking badger drew a clawed fingertip slowly beneath the chin of the Wolfdog, then kissed the man's cheek. It was the show of an overly French custom.

His slender, pointed snout ended a swirl of white and black, with an almost contrasting, carnation pink nose. He cut his gaze towards the window, then back to the gunner, who was quaking. The badger simply narrowed his eyes and the Wolfdog cringed, backing away from the remains of the sniper rifle, which had a ruptured chamber.

"Sire's people pay handsome disability. You just lost your life's trade so you'll be able to retire early. You should thank me," Reaper mused thoughtfully, then pointed towards the door. "I wish to commandeer this window. Fare-thee-well, good sir." It was the gunner's cue to leave and he did so with great haste, favoring his blood-covered wrist, which was still smoldering at the stump.

A wisp of smoke rose gently above the sniper rifle. Reaper's eyes lowered to the object, frowning upon it. He lifted his right paw and a bolt of raw lightning energy surged against his padded palm. It took on a mystical formation of shape until he was holding an illuminated beam that resembled a farming scythe; the very weapon for which the Grim Reaper was so famous. It was thus from where 'Reaper' got his name.

The scythe was brought down, cutting the rifle into halves. It dropped harmlessly to the floor, with a thud of the handle and a ker-thunk of the front end's pieces. The scope rolled across the floor, coming to a stop by a chair. This weapon would now be silenced forever. "They are mine," He repeated softly, turning back to the window.

"Are they really?" Came a soft, dulcet voice. Her wily tones caused Reaper to smirk, looking up and seeing her reflection in the window. He offered a dramatic pause then glanced over his shoulder with a casual air. He grinned, recognizing Karla Chintzy as it was impossible to forget the name of a woman who looked like her. She replied to his expression with a grin of her own, adding, "Missed me, killer?"

"Even a man who's not interested in sex is charmed by your presence," Reaper mused thoughtfully. "How are Steven and the Sire, my dear?"

"I didn't realize they'd be bringing you in, Nathaniel Carrington," She said to the Badger, making sure to use his full real name, which had not been spoken in more than 14 decades. Ironically, she was the last to use it, at that.

"I didn't realize you would be Sly Cooper's keeper," Reaper mused, followed by a moue of disgust which came across his face, upon hearing his name aloud. Nathaniel meant "Gift From God", which was a far cry from his natural abilities to murder. He simply waved his paw at her in a dismissing manner then his body began to glow.

His eyes were the first to incandesce, followed by a glow that seemed to pour out of his mouth. His fingertips shimmered and light poured out of his nose, ears and from within the recesses of his body. Without further warning, the body mutated into a beam of electricity and arced upwards, leaving a burn mark in the ceiling. Karla narrowed her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

"Don't you dare teleport away from ME!" She growled softly, bowing her head slowly. Her body faded then reappeared upon the roof. She stood directly behind the assassin, folding her arms. "That was beyond rude, Carrington."

"I have but one name now," Said the badger, keeping his back to Karla and his eyes on the apartment a few blocks away. "You think I could hit the open window from here and destroy that apartment inside out? I've never aimed for something the size of a window from ten blocks before," He chuckled in an almost playful manner.

"We've not received the diamond pendant from them yet; they cannot die," She snapped. "You're here to ensure the Sire isn't killed but they are too important to die just yet," She muttered, narrowing her gaze. "So stop thinking about it; I know murder is the only thing that gets your dick hard," She added, folding her arms across an ample bosom. The added stress to her tight shirt and un-zippered jacket helped to portray that canyon of cleavage but it did nothing to tease the badger.

"Watch your mouth, Female. And I thought you were lady-like," Replied the ever-enigmatic Carrington, whose eyes seemed to hold a controlled static charge within the pupils.

"Your attacks will blow my cover," Karla grumbled, walking to the edge of the roof. Snow surrounded them; flakes were as numerous as stars in the sky on the clearest of nights. The rooftops that led from the building where they were at, to the building where Sly and his friends were making base, averaged about a story shorter than the current location of Karla and Reaper.

The badger's eyes were transfixed to Cooper's apartment. The gritty rooftops resembled a sea of black diamonds, shimmering in the night. As the snow fell, covering these rooftops, each wave of raven jewels slowly became white, pure, fresh and new. Finally Karla shook her head and said, "It's cold tonight. Don't cross me, I'm working here. Back down."

"My next attack will be against the entire group; you included. It will ensure your 'cover' story, Miss Chintzy," Said the badger with an eerily gentle voice. "I'll try not to kill all of you, dear. But I can make no promises."

"I have to find the diamond pendant for Sire," She reminded, trying not to show her frustration. "I'll give you a sign if it's necessary. Your mission, right now, is to ensure Sire is safe. See to it," She demanded.

"Admit it," The badger asked of her. "I want you to tell me the truth: that seeing me has thrown a wrench into your plans to work for Sire, seduce Sly Cooper and get his stupid family diamond. You trifling little Jezebel," he sneered. "You can't always have your cake and eat it, too."

"Jealous you can't have me, even if you wanted me?" She said with a smirk. "Hell, Nathaniel, even if something other than death could give you a rise, I doubt you'd care to experience it."

"Be gone, wench. You sicken me. I've had enough disgust for one evening. Click your pretty little heels three times and disappear, please," Reaper demanded.

"You're not invincible," She replied, approaching the assassin and dropping her arms to her sides. Her eyes raked over his masculine visage, noting the length of his hair that clung to the breath of wintry wind, dancing like a ballerina who clung to a note of song carried by the seasonal gale.

He turned his head to glare at her but she was already gone by the time he cast his gaze to check.

Sly turned away from Carmelita. They'd just had another curt argument about how to make an advance on someone like Sire, when in the field. As soon as Sly turned away, his pupils shrank, taking in the form of Karla, the half-breed fox-cat. He could only offer a flirty grin and a shrug. "How long have you been standing there, listening to this bickering?"

"It doesn't matter," Karla explained, causing Carmelita to turn about and Murray to stop what he was doing and glance over at the return of the 'pretty lady'. Chintzy shook her head slowly and shrugged slightly, rolling her shoulders forth. "We have a problem. Something happened that I never anticipated; Sire brought in The Big Guns…" She trailed off, shaking her head once more, offering a flat sigh, laying her ears back. "He's a big problem, don't ask; he's bad news, period."

A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNN! So, guys and gals, should Karla BE a good guy or be a bad guy, in the end? Let me know! ……And wow, a physical manifestation of a lightning bolt Scythe? Pretty scary huh? How much further before Steven the Skunk finishes Clockwerk's repair? Will Bentley and Penelope arrive in time? Will they arrive at all, considering the fact that they're nearly surrounded by the bad guys…? Will Sly and Carmelita work things out the way they had managed to do when he faked amnesia to become her Constable? Now she knows he left to 'return to his ways', will she ever trust him again? Can you believe I wrote over 9 more pages again:D I coulda' gone further but I wanted to get this update up before Christmas because I'm going to Tennessee this weekend to see my second son, Thomas, who just turned two in September! (There's a picture of him on my DeviantArt website, under the user name CreatedFromPain. Word) Later!

-kit