A/N: Have mercy! There's so much that's about to be revealed in this chapter. But let's start with Sly's heist. Then we'll get into some action with Murray and I'll touch on Bentley and Penelope's work time together, as I get into c18… then we'll get down to the nitty gritty and see what's happening with Carmelita… I'm such a suspenseful person. With the theme of calling each act a dance… I've decided to give a dance connotation chapter name. It should tell you that our heroes are about to tread lightly into unknown territory with no plan of action…. Cross your fingers and pray for our protagonists… because who knows what I'll do? In my StarFox Fan Fiction, REFLECTIONS OF THE FUTURE, I allowed the main bad guy to be brought back at the very end and he escaped, so that it would lead into the next game…. Don't think every ending is a FULLY happy ending in my stories. Hold your breath until the very end, because we're going into the climatic part of this story from here on out! My wife thinks I should get something written and published. What do you guys think? Who here thinks I got the right stuff to write something that sells? Who here doesn't and why? How can I improve? LET ME KNOW!
Btw, you know how I go 'all out'? It's about to happen again…Bad guys aren't truly evil unless they have a backup plan. With Karla dead, the bad guys needa back up plan. Who says they didn't already have one?I'm introducing a dark slant to this story's angle. Stay sharp!
Chapter 17: When step patterns immediately begin to fail…
The snow storm was moving north. Unfortunately, the temperature grew colder as the train headed towards Russia and Sly disliked wearing the necessary gear to stay warm because it prohibited his natural dexterity. Anytime he was bundled up in a huge parka, it was nearly impossible to be stealthy. But with this storm, there was no use trying to be anything but bundled up. The bullet train had to travel 30 miles an hour under its usual speed because of the weather. It was still very fast, but now Sly questioned whether he might even make it in time.
Bentley assured him on the radio that the storm was factored in and he should still make it if he acts quickly upon arrival. Sly was still standing at the window occasionally glancing at his watch. The world flashed by in a swirl of night mixed with the pearl purity of a snow covered landscape. He was alone in this particular train car and took a moment to enjoy the silence.
While Sly loved excitement he also loved the silence. He knew he was in his perfect element when the silence was louder than his own heart beat. He knew that he was at the top of his form when the force of stealth was strong with him. Paws down, Sly had learned to respect it when he was on a job. He was somewhat enjoying it now, for the moment; possibly because he was safely given a chance to catch his breath. Maybe he just knew that this quiet was the calm before the metaphorical storm.
The trip was a long one. Thirty hours by means of a traditional train; the bullet train could blaze the trip in a matter of only 18 hours. It was still a long trip and there were two stops on the way with a 30 minute lay over at each station. That would give Sly an hour of total time where he wasn't making any actual progress. The actual travel time was 17 hours. He knew he had to grab some gear in the short half an hour it took sitting at each station along the way.
Fortunately for him, the first station's stop was a simple meet and greet of an old 'friend' who happened to be in that neck of the woods. Dimitri. The smooth talking jive-speaking hipster lounge lizard with a solid amount of connections was just the man to get Sly his gear. Once the train eased into the station, Sly crossed the mezzanine and approached the easily spotted pinkish-burgundy scaled reptile. Sly was greeted with a far more personable Dimitri than several of the last encounters.
"Ahh, my greasy-sweet amigo!" Dimitri bristled boisterously. "Right on! How is you? I've missed ya', Bro. 'S coo', bro. Dank ya' fo' stealin' mah' scuba gear. Ah be baaad... Slap mah fro! Do ya' likes mah' latest Buckwheatet?" Asked the lizard, tilting his head.
Sly cocked his own head, folding his arms. "Your weird jive-chatter is a little thicker than I remember, Dimitri. Buckwheatet? Do you seriously call your jacket a buckwheat…-et? I don't get it."
"Aww, bro! Don't be crack'a lack'n up on the medaside with the blueblood style; I just wanted ta thank you again for gankin' my wet-threads. I'm gellin' ya, bro; I got MC's, G's'n big guns bro. An injection of gear perfection that's as hip as my Roach-In-The-Corner Killers!" Dimitri explained, pointing to the pointy-toed shoes. "You dig that, Paddyroller cat? It's like this, my finely furred gray-dude, I gotta scratch in the kitchen, and I'm real floored you're not ripping the siditty on ole D-note, dig honky? Now let's butter up yo' bread and get you back on the hot line about-face, Moscow."
Sly simply blinked twice. He didn't know whether to make heads or tails of the odd-speaking lizard, so finally Cooper just shook his head. "All right, so what have you got for me? I'm going to be breaking into a museum in Moscow and I need something more than my cane for this gig."
The lizard shrugged, motioning for Sly to follow. The two of them walked outside of the train station, baring the heavy snowfall long enough to cross the street and slip into an alley where a side door awaited. Dimitri chuckled softly, telling Cooper, "I've got your digs, cracker-box. You'll be dancin' through the history; in through the heat vent, out through the window. It'll be slick-line like the cream on crop. So how're you and the fuzz buzzing?"
"The Fuzz?" Sly shook his head, not having heard that term in ages.
"Yanno, the Fuzz! The Five-O. The Girl in True Blue?" Dimitri mused, still speaking of police officers and, more than likely, about Carmelita Fox. Sly had understood the term but was rather amused, hearing the lexicon.
"She's gone pig-in-a-blanket, keeping on the D&L," Sly explained, trying to throw enough Jive back at Dimitri to half-shut the lizard up. "She's grooving to our tune when she cuts a rug." Sly cast the man a sideways grin. The lizard chuckled, shaking his head slowly. Sly had explained that she wasn't walking around with a badge right now, suggesting that she was undercover. Sly then told Dimitri that she was staying afloat by having joined teams with the Cooper Gang for the moment. The lizard understood Sly's lingo and nodded approvingly.
"Ain't you two peas in a pod like flowers in a field?" The lizard grumbled.
"Not right now," Sly replied, honestly. "Someone who's bad for everyone's business is running Interpol so she's on the outside, with us. I broke off our relationship when I learned that Clockwerk was being rebuilt, originally. I couldn't have her getting involved because if something happened to her, I'd blame myself…
"She took it pretty bad. They rebuilt Clockwerk and he's worse now, than the first one. It's pretty scary for everyone." Once they were inside the small room, Dimitri glanced back out, looking down the alley towards the train station to ensure that they weren't followed."
Finally, Dimitri raised his left hand to quiet Sly. "Behold: My wares," The lizard whispered, shutting the door behind them. On the dusty old counter in the center of the room was a veritable leather suitcase full of gear. "My fat stash of platinum punishment. Can you be handling my hookups, hombre? For real, now, bro. My selection is as good as my sense of fashion; it's the baddest on the block, bro!"
Sly lifted his paws, gesturing outwards, shaking his head. "Slow down, Dimitri. It's good to see you, too. I've got to get a disguise for this museum, also. I thought, maybe, with your sense of fashion, we could use the internet to see what these guards dress like and go from there."
"Leave it to me; I've got you covered like all the bases right before a grand slam!" Dimitri announced exuberantly. "Then you can go the rest of the way to Russia and BAM! Explosives to Rock their world! Color their dull sense of bad tastes ALL RIGHT!" He ended on a shout in the key of "C", singing the last word. Sly simply cringed.
"Then let's hurry," The raccoon finally replied.
Murray was in full effect tonight. His scarf was billowing in the breeze as he stood there, his arms out stretched with the double sliding doors pushed wide apart. The gloom that emanated from the supply store was so thick it was nearly tangible. The hippo reached up and pulled his goggles down over his eyes then reached to flip the lights on.
Inside, someone was ready for him. A few men sat around an ovular table, smoking cigars with slicked back hair. The Czech wolf-dogs cast a glance up at him with a relaxed sort of smirk on their mugs. The gang's driver and strongman, Murray, clinched his hands into fists causing the leather driving gloves to creak under the stress.
"You guys were waiting for me, huh?" Murray asked. He stepped in through the doorway and the large rolling doors slammed together, closing behind himself. He knew what he had to do and these jokers were in his way. Murray glanced from left to right then approached the table of mafia looking goons.
"How much are they paying ya, strong man?" One of the men asked, between puffs on a cigar. The gentleman pushed the lit end of the short stogie into an ashtray and looked up with a wan smile.
"The Murray cannot be bought," said the portly hippo. "So what's it going to be? Do I have to beat the snot out of your thugs first, or can we cut to the chase and get personal?"
"I'm quite surprised," said one of the Prague Bosses, "You usually do all the talking with your actions. It's pretty rare that you do it with your mouth, fatty. We know all about the Cooper Gang." In response to his sharp retort, Murray's eyes could only narrow. The first man to speak continued to do so. "I think you're all hot air, kid. We already have a strongman, I was just curious how much you make… or if you know how ta' count passed 10 dollars and don't worry about it."
"Listen," Murray almost reasoned, "I may not be the smartest man in the gang; I might not have the brains of Bentley or the wit of Sly but they need my help getting these parts and not you or anyone else in this room is going to stand in my way…!" Murray pounded his fist into his palm. "Now… It's time to break stuff!"
"Touching," muttered one of the other bosses. He then lifted his hand and waved two fingers. A figure emerged from the dark end of the metal shop, easily taller than Murray and sporting ridiculously broad shoulders and gorilla-like arms. As the figure came into the light, Murray realized that the man was, indeed, a gorilla. "Herbert," Said the second boss man. "Show this man to the door so we can get back to our poker game."
"Well shoot," Murray muttered. This whole thing came down to a case of bad timing. Bentley didn't know to plan around their poker match and now they assumed Murray was just a man fighting in a turf war. The hippo shook his head and looked up at the massive beast that approached him, glaring down at him and smirking. The massive ape was all muscle. Portly Murray waved up at the beast and asked, "Hello, Herbert. How's it going?"
In a deep, almost guttural voice, Herbert replied, "I think you had better leave, little man." Murray could only blink. He'd never been called 'little man' before. In comparison, everyone was little standing next to this guy. The Gorilla snatched Murray by his waist, lifted him up and hurled him across the room.
Based on the maneuvers taught to him by the Guru (A/N: Sly 3: Honor Amongst Thieves), he tucked his arms and legs inward and assumed the powerful 'Ball form', bounding off the wall with all his might. The thin sheen of a pinkish aura surrounded the hippo who bounced back across the room, hitting the floor, then popping up, catching the Gorilla in the upper chest. It was a high enough connection that it put the massive minion off balance for a moment.
Murray un-tucked his arms and legs, landing on his feet and followed through with several quick uppercuts and a few left and right jabs but it barely affected the gorilla. It happened again and Murray found himself snatched up by the waist in the man's massive palm. He was thrown clear across the room again and Murray attempted the same counter defense measure but this time, he went clear through the wall. Landing in the snow outside in the alley, Murray sat up in a pile of trash, sitting in a dark green recycling dumpster with a dazed look in his eyes.
Once the stars cleared, he climbed from the dumpster with a grunt. The Gorilla was waiting in the Alley. "Are we finished? It's cold out here and I figured you'd be leaving now."
"I came to do a job," Murray half-grumbled. "And you know what?" He asked with a grin. Then the hippo's tone changed to that of defiance and he added, "I'm going to DO IT!" Without further warning, Murray charged, drawing his fist back and throwing his full weight into a hard punch. The Gorilla grunted under the walloping fisticuffs but it did little more than to faze him for a moment.
Herbert the Gorilla drew his fist back, ready to drill into Murray's jaw but Murray was quick. He leapt back, vaulting off the dumpster, and then leaned forward so that his body was horizontal. He threw his arms and legs outwards and belly flopped atop of the large bouncer, knocking him back to the snow. Murray recovered quickly and grabbed Herbert by the collar.
Opening his stance, Murray grunted hard, pulling the gorilla up over his head. Herbert kicked his legs but Murray held tight. He rushed out of the Alley and back into the building through the front door. The Mafia bosses looked up from their seats just in time for Herbert to be thrown across the room and into the poker table. Chips and cards went flying in all directions. Seeing several guns were pulled and Murray ran back out the door, knowing what was going to happen next. He had to dispatch each of them, one at a time.
The buxom Carmelita was slow to wake. She felt that annoying pins and needles sensation enveloping her entire right arm and rolled away from it until she was flat on her back. She tried to lift her arm so that she could shake it but was rewarded with a noisy rattling. Cumbersome chains were attached to her wrists, her ankles and her tail, clattering across the floor.
The residual of a light headache could also be felt as her pain began to grow, awaking into the world of consciousness once more. She'd been struck in the forehead with the butt of a soldier's rifle. As she could recall, these people didn't like her putting up a fight when she tried to escape.
She wasn't quite sure how long she'd been out but her body was burning and her chest and abs were aching from putting her body through such punishment in the last two days. She tried to sit up and found that there were no short-tether restraints prohibiting her. Once she was able to peel her eyes open she realized that the restraining metal links offered a fair amount of leeway. As noisy as the rattling was, she had more than enough slack in the chain to move.
Carmelita came to her feet, slowly at first, then gave herself a good shake. From head to tail, she shook hard like a wet dog until her flowing fox-brush rattled the last chain. Once she felt awake enough to think, she paused to take in her surroundings. While there was no war going on, she also had to note that there was nothing going on that could be construed as breaking the Geneva Convention, here. Everything seemed well and she was unharmed, minus the bump on her head.
There was a toilet nearby and a sink. She even had a cot and the chains were long enough to allow her to go anywhere in the cell. Escaping the cell would have been easy except for the 5 leashes on each of her limbs. Every appendage was adorned with its own iron shackle and they were fairly heavy at that.
She attempted to search her pockets for something to pick the locks with but she had nothing on her. She reached up to run her fingers through her hair but her hairpins were missing as well. Finally, she sat down on the cot and rolled the cuff of her pants up. She'd started doing this since Sly had left her handcuffed to the railing at the mouth of the Volcano in Russia a few years back. She had a key sewn into the cuff seam of every pair of pants she owned.
She had to work at the stitching for a few minutes but her hard work finally paid off and she fetched the key from its secretly sewn pouch. The key was placed into the shackles and she gave each one a turn into the 'unlock' position but she wasn't about to give herself away, either. Carmelita used the threads from the sewn pouch in her pants cuff to tie the shackles shut.
The appearance of looking captured would bode well with her plans to escape once The Sire came to visit her. She glanced down at the key and thought about it for a moment, wondering if she shouldn't just place it under her tongue. Ultimately, she decided to slide it down into her shoe.
She felt vindicated to have been quick because a guard stepped into the area only a moment later. He opened the cell and approached her. She immediately recognized him as the guard who hit her in the head with the gun butt earlier, when they were trying to subdue her during the imprisonment. He took her by the neck in his right hand and put her up against the cell bars at the back of the cage.
"You will stay here until The Sire arrives. You cannot be allowed to move when he speaks to you; you've lost that privilege," hissed the servant guard. He was a pretty big guy, especially for being a simple ferret. He had broad shoulders and a dull, yet feral look in his eyes. It was obvious this guy was nothing more than a simple pawn. The way he held her up against the bars was actually rather painful. Another guard stepped into the cell, a coyote of equal size, who came over and took her wrists, pinning them up, above her head. The chains rattled softly in reply.
Carmelita narrowed her gaze. "So where is your boss; I want to rip him apart, but I don't mind starting with you two, first."
"You talk a lot of trash for a woman who's held down by two very big men," Said the second guard. The coyote leered at her with a smirk. "So what's a cutie like you doing unbroken and unbound? Haven't you had a man to tame you yet?"
"I answer to NO ONE," Carmelita snapped. "If anything, I prefer a man who would change his ways for me instead of the other way around."
The first guard chortled in rebuttal. "That's not going to happen. Why don't you try to be submissive for once? Who knows, a girl like you might really like it," The ferret added.
"Let me show you what a "girl like me" prefers out of two guys, like yourselves," Carmelita told them. She tucked her legs beneath herself, putting her feet back against the wall, tensing her body. She then pushed off the wall with her feet as hard as she could. She kicked about, so that she twisted loose of their combined grip.
Her ankles came together, crossing, and her knees parted widely, so that her toned thighs were tightened and tense. Her knees smashed each guard on either side of her, directly in their faces, breaking both of their noses at the same time. She came straight down, between them, doing a hand stand, then kicked her legs back up and out, hard. Her heels met each guard in the chin, knocking them away from her. It also caused her simply threaded chain braces to come undone.
The shackle cuffs fell to the ground with a clang. She then turned about quickly and offered a medium-height jump kick to the chest of the coyote. The force sent him reeling back. Upon landing, she pivoted hard, performing a skillfully executed roundhouse across the jaw of the Ferret. She didn't have her weapons on her but she was far from defenseless.
Having dropped each foe to the floor, she snatched them both by their headfur and pulled them up to their knees. She then drew her paws apart then clapped them together, smashing the ferret and coyote's faces into one another. This rendered them both unconscious. They were dropped to the floor, forgotten. The cell door was wide open and Carmelita just grinned to herself. She wasn't exactly enthused from being in an unknown place but she was pleased with her work.
Sneaking out through the jail cell gate that was left wide open, Carmelita continued out into the hallway. She checked a few small doorways looking for where they might have stashed her gear. So far, there was no success, finding nothing more than custodial closets and a few other small, worthless storage places.
Inspector Fox checked her collar and noted that her badge was still attached. A foul looking rooster stalked across the intersection of a hallway that met perpendicular to her own. He spotted her almost immediately and began to charge. Carmelita leapt into the air, kicking her legs outwards to throw herself into a somersault. She landed behind the avian, pivoting around to face him.
The rooster skidded to a halt and turned about, charging at her again. She lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his feathery neck and kicking her legs down between his ankles. The Rooster's eyes widened, realizing that her intent was to trip him and his balance was skillfully stolen from him. The maneuver brought him to the ground with a hard thud that dazed the bird. He wobbled for a moment, trying to get his bearings but Carmelita had no intention of letting him recover.
She put her left foot up on the nearest wall, flipping her body over so that the weight of her form came crashing down upon her right heel, stomping the foul foe in the middle of his back. He was immediately immobilized and struggled to move. His talons opened and the opponent attempted to gain purchase on her leg with his foot claws but she was too quick. Carmelita shifted her weight, leaping from his body once more and landing besides his head, crouching down at his level.
She drew back her right fist and unleashed a hard punch across his beak. After a moment of roughing him up with a few left and right hooks, the bird crowed his last, giving up the ghost. He keeled over, growing silent. Carmelita stood up, once more, heading down the hallway again. She grumbled to herself about having forgotten to ask him where to find this Sire guy.
Carmelita couldn't help but scold herself for getting too rowdy before interrogation. It's happened before on a few occasions and this time was no exception. However, she was given another chance. Her eyes narrowed, spying someone else coming, further down the corridor.
A female moose walked down the next hallway over and Carmelita approached her from behind. As soon as the woman approached an office door, Carmelita charged from behind. She shoved the woman in through the door, slamming it shut behind herself. The woman moose was knocked to the ground, turning about to look up at Inspector Fox. The vixen folded her arms, glaring down at the woman whose lipstick was now smeared across the side of her mouth.
"Where am I; where can I find SG1, known as The Sire? Where can I find my gear?" Carmelita's tone was full of demand. She drew her right fist back in a threatening manner.
"Lady, The Sire sees NOBODY," The large woman grumbled. Carmelita was quick to snatch the female moose by the ears and force her up to a half-kneeling position. The cop, without a license to arrest, knew she had to rough people up to get things to move in a state of progression. She'd done this to dozens of criminals and even had a reputation for it. She drew her fist back again, then delivered a pulverizing punch across the moose's snout.
The woman flopped back to the floor with a groan and Carmelita was shaking her paw with a wince. However, she got the point across and the over-tall woman cringed the next time Inspector Fox drew her fist back. "Now, where can I find him and where am I? Furthermore, where is my stuff?"
"I don't know where your 'stuff' is, but you're in Prague! It is the Castle of Vohzd Voorhemes. It overlooks the city but it is a few miles from the actual residential and commercial districts. Now lay off!" cried the larger woman. Carmelita smirked.
"Looks more like an office in here than a castle, are you lying to me?" The Inspector asked.
The moose was adamant. "No! Look out the nearest window! You're crazy! Now get away from me! If you want The Sire, you should go and find him yourself! I don't know, now leave me alone!"
"I can't have a whistle blower getting in my way," Carmelita said. She suddenly pivoted on her left heel, snapping her body about to deliver a mid-height kick that knocked the moose back to the floor again. She was alive but rendered completely unconscious. Carmelita dusted her paws off and searched the office for a moment. There was nothing special about it, just an accounting computer and a small FM Radio next to a lamp on a desk.
She went back to the hallway, searching each room. Her eyes shifted from left to right and the vixen perked her ears. She came to an intersection and made a right, using her instinct. Carmelita sniffed at the air but there was a mix of dull scent. There was nothing to track in the air at this moment. At the end of the hallway, her eyes spied a double door in red, adorned with gold-painted carvings in the wood. It looked well decorated and important.
A grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle and she began to stalk towards it. "Let's just see what sort of 'prize' is behind the elegant Door Number One," Carmelita murmured under her breath. She tightened her paws into fists and her grin grew more devious looking. She set off towards the door, slow at first but with the intent to force the door open with a hard dash.
With every step, she picked up her pace until she was nearly at a full sprint once she was upon it. At the last moment, in a full run, she jumped into the air, throwing the door wide open with all of her force, putting her weight behind a full, hard kick. The double doors were knocked off their hinges and Carmelita dropped into a roll, coming to her feet almost directly in front of The Sire.
She didn't have her shock pistol or gear yet and her breath caught in her throat, when their eyes locked. "You…" She whispered, immediately narrowing her gaze.
"I see you were looking for me. Steven was quite correct in having guessed every one of your moves. The movement of your entire gang, for that matter," Sire mused, lifting a paw and giving her an almost playful shove against her shoulder. "I had my doubts that you people would survive The Reaper. I'm impressed; Nathaniel was quite an adversary."
"The skunk is dead; Clockwerk decimated him. And you're under arrest for imposing a police officer, trafficking illegal electronics and for hostage holding over several people. Consider this a citizen's arrest," She snapped, balling her paws into fists.
"Steven isn't dead. Did you smell dead skunk, Steven?" The Sire asked. The polecat approached from off to Carmelita's left, causing her to blink in surprise. Had Cooper's gang lied to her or were they perhaps mistaken? She couldn't be sure. "Why don't you tell our friend what's going on here, my friend?" Sire asked of his accomplice.
"I have lost my only brother to that idiot machine," Steven growled softly. "I cloned myself and engineered the gene structure to age quickly through puberty then I found a way to transfer my thoughts and memories into his Cerebral Cortex and Cerebellum. He had these strange dreams and felt compelled to rebuild my greatest failure: a new Clockwerk. I told him that he was wasting his time but stopping him from achieving something based on his dreams was something I could not do," Steven continued to explain.
He frowned thoughtfully then added, "I wanted to see if his dreams could inspire him the way an authentic being could be inspired. I'm convinced that, even though he was a clone, he may have had a soul after all. He was the passionate man that I couldn't be, after I've lived for so very long."
"I thought he lived a long time," Carmelita asked, shifting her eyes between the two men. The lion remained quiet, allowing his true friend to continue the explanation. If they were willing to offer details, any Detective would be willing to listen. It was her fundamental duty as an Inspector.
Steven shook his head, replying to her question with, "Only through the memories that I've placed in his mind. He remembers living for a long time and sometimes, he was confused because he remembers building the first Clockwerk. Sometimes he would become confused and revert to the way I used to speak several centuries ago. But I've evolved with the times and he's only been alive for a few short years. The overload of experiences and memories in his mind without the life long struggle to shape and mature his mind caused him to occasionally grow angry and have outbursts or demented thoughts but he was still my only twin brother in many respects."
Carmelita glanced at The Sire, then looked back to Steven. She had no room to bargain but it was somewhere to start. "I'm sorry to have brought you the news of his death. Clockwerk must be stopped. Perhaps we can reach a short accord to bring justice against Clockwerk in exchange for you both leaving Interpol alone and stepping out of the limelight?"
"Don't be a fool," Sire snapped. "Some of us still have our original agenda. You're not part of it," He told her.
"Diplomacy was never my strongest point," Carmelita mused, shaking her head. She drew her breath in long and slowly, sighing with a roll of her eyes. She then drew her paws back, ready for combat. "I'll have to take you both out the hard way."
Steven simply turned his back on her, crossing the room. He seemed disinterested and acted as though he was completely ignoring her. The Sire, on the other hand, reached his paws up as if he was offering her something. His eyes shimmered as if incandescing with their own unnatural lighting. His aura began to display itself as a colorful bubble around his form. He was nearly glowing from head to toe.
Carmelita growled softly at the back of her throat. That single action caused Steven to glance over his shoulder and raise an eyebrow. The Sire closed his paws keeping his wrists extended in the same fashion and now Carmelita was finding herself struggling over the odd sensation of being attracted to the lion in a way of wanting to trust him.
She didn't feel an attraction of love or desire, but rather an attraction of the mind, the way someone suddenly trusts another person after having their life saved by that being. She attempted to shake off the sense of friendship and confusion but found that it was overwhelmingly awesome and his powers were difficult to deny. Steven was quiet, watching her resist; something he'd never seen before in a mortal. He'd heard that Sly Cooper accomplished it for only a few seconds but it took the power of an artifact that was presumed to be lost, now.
"Sire, my friend, it's quite possible she has somehow obtained the bracelet of Willpower," The real Steven noted aloud. Carmelita narrowed her gaze further, fighting off the powerful psychological effects that Sire's majestic aura was having on her psyche. Sire reached into his vest and pulled out her Shock Pistol, offering it to her, handle first.
"I want you to place this weapon to your head, Carmelita. You can trust me, my dear girl," Sire promised her in a soft, musical voice. That deep, baritone sound was rich and pure to her ears. She wrapped her paw around the handle, snatching the weapon tightly then balked when her arm disobeyed her mind and the barrel came to her head. She struggled, gritting her teeth and curling her toes in an attempt to point the gun anywhere else.
Her chest tightened and her arms were nearly bulging but his mental abilities were overpowering in so many incredible ways. Steven continued to walk across the room and out of her view. The Sire reached out to pat her head, scratching gently between her ears. He leaned forward and whispered to her in a soft, romantically deep voice.
"Carmelita," He said in those subtle, hushed tones, "Your gun is against your head. You would kill yourself if it wasn't for me saving you from that fate. I've saved your life by not telling you to pull the trigger. In return for sparing your life, you should trust me. That trust creates a bond of friendship. As my friend, I ask a favor of you.
"I need for you to take this gun and find your arch enemy, Sly Cooper. I want you to hunt him down and shock him. I want you to bring him to me and I will reprogram him to steal artifacts across the globe. These artifacts are necessary to complete the goals of my own personal dreams. Can you do this for me? Can you trust me, Carmelita Montoya Fox?"
She struggled to defy his will. She fought the reprogramming of her mind and struggled to break the spellbinding state that was settling in her brain. She'd come too far for this. She'd held out against this sort of thing when it happened before (A/N: Sly2 Band of Thieves, in the Contessa's Prague Laboratory) and she beat it in the past. Why was it so difficult now?
"Once Sly has stolen these artifacts, I want you to kill him," Sire whispered to her.
"…N-no! He must live," She struggled to reply, weakly. The Sire was the first man to ever cause her willpower to falter. No other being had such power over her mind. She was reeling from the sense of insanity that she was battling. She had an incredible headache and every word he asked seemed logical to her and yet she felt insane to question him.
"You must obey me as you obey your Law System. I am the Law, Carmelita," Sire whispered. His hot breath was caressing her flesh and fur and his lips brushed against the golden hoop at the tip of her ear. It felt like being home yet she was struggling to question this authority. It felt as impossibly difficult as if she were questioning every rule and regulation she had ever vowed to uphold.
Carmelita felt as though she was in an alternative reality questioning her own existence. She was struggling to grip the situation. She was questioning herself. She could hardly understand herself and the confusion was overwhelming. Sire's hot breath poured over her earlobe, sickeningly sweet like swimming in a tangible blanket of warmth. She'd never done anything wrong or illegal in her past and fighting his brainwashing felt like breaking every law she stood for.
The lion could see he was on the verge of breaking her now. He smiled softly into the tender whisper. "You do as I ask and it brings you inner satisfaction. You regain your inner will when you accomplish goals that I've set for you. I am law and you uphold my will with the order that I give you. I am your balance. I am your anchor and your rock of security," Sire whispered. "My desires are the justice of your world. And I desire Sly Cooper."
"He's just a man," She sobbed. "These artifacts cannot be stolen. They can only be delivered to their proper owner."
The lion wasn't about to give up. "They do belong to me. I need for their safe return," He lied. "I want them to be brought to me. They are crucial. Without them, I cannot awaken Clockwerk's new true spirit."
"That spirit is one of evil; we must stop it and destroy Clockwerk?" She protested softly. She was so confused now, that her statement came out in the form of a question, as if questioning her own thoughts on the matter.
"Clockwerk must live and Sly Cooper must die," The Sire said firmly. Carmelita's eyes went wide. She had a far-off look in her gaze as if she had come to a realization for the first time in her life. It was obvious that something had clicked in her mind because she seemed far away as if her attention was on another plane.
Sire continued to talk but she was no longer listening after that point. She lived an entire lifetime in a split moment. Her mind showed her every dream she had suffered through in the last week all at once. Every single time, Sly Cooper died and she was crushed. She couldn't let it happen in reality.
Carmelita's jaw went slack, dropping open to mirror the distant gaze she held. Her stupefied expression came with silence on her behalf. The end of the world would come from Sly Cooper stealing these artifacts in lieu of his child with Karla Chintzy. Now that Karla was dead, these people were trying to get Sly to steal these artifacts.
The original plan was to cause Sly's bloodline to mix with an Immortal woman's blood, using the Cooper family engagement pendant, the Stone Of Fertility; Karla's death ruined that plot. Now all focus was centered on Sly Cooper, the last raccoon Master Thief of his line. While an Immortal Master Thief child would have been unstoppable and would not question Sire's orders, Sly was a liability who would have to die upon completing the mission. Of course, Steven had his own plans for Sly Cooper.
These artifacts, once assembled, would resurrect the ancient evil which would then be placed into the new Clockwerk as a host body. From there, The Demon would be unstoppable. Now that Karla was dead, Sly became the key to their operation's success. Sly Cooper was the last remaining Master Thief and only a person with his abilities would be able to steal every necessary component to bring the Master of Evil into the world of the physical.
And that's when Carmelita realized that she was the only one standing in their way. If Steven could clone himself, he would have no problems cloning Sly Cooper. It dawned on her that they needed for her to bring Sly Cooper back to them. If Steven's explanation of how he transferred his thoughts to his clone was any indication, then it was her biggest clue to figuring this whole thing out.
They needed Sly Cooper so they could transfer all his abilities and everything he's learned into a clone, then kill the original so that nobody was left to stop them. The Sire had been lying to her the entire time. He just wanted her to bring Sly back, skip to the chase and kill Sly Cooper as soon as they got him hooked up to a machine. Their entire scheme became clear to the Inspector in that instant.
Her arms suddenly lifted subconsciously. Sire was thrown backwards, away from her. He stumbled for a moment only to realize that she was now pointing her weapon directly in his face. "Sly Cooper is mine. You can't have him and you can't clone him. He won't be forced into helping you with your fiendish plans!" She shouted.
"Oh, Carmelita," Sire said, shaking his head slowly. "We already have cloned Sly Cooper. All we need is for the original Sly to be brought to us so we can transfer his life experiences and everything he's learned from the Thievious Raccoonus into our backup plan's mind."
"I'll never help you. Without the real Sly Cooper, you can't successfully steal your stupid artifacts!" Carmelita bellowed, keeping her gun level in The Sire's face.
"If you don't help us get Sly Cooper, we'll go to Russia and capture him for ourselves. What is it going to be, Carmelita?" Sire growled softly.
"Sly and I will stop you and your imposter!" Carmelita snapped.
"Oh I doubt it," Sire rebutted playfully, with a grin. "We'd just kill you both and use his friends to locate the Thievious Raccoonus with faux promises of your safe return. We would teach our clone of Sly Cooper and condition him for this job. It would be better if he was part immortal because then we wouldn't have to worry about him dying while trying to obtain these artifacts, but as Steven usually says, one must always have several back up plans. If you don't help us, then you must die. It's a shame, too. The son of Karla and Sly; an immortal master thief… he would have been so obedient, as children are often too naïve to question something of this magnitude."
"I'll never help you!" She shouted, pulling the trigger. At point blank range, the gunshot should have been a lethal blow but to her surprise, the shot was deflected. Steven reproached The Sire and folded his arms across his chest. Carmelita fired the gun again but it bounced off of an unseen force. An invisible protective shield had been activated, putting a barrier between them and Inspector Fox.
"Thanks for giving the Shock Pistol back to me," Carmelita said with a smirk. "I'll be back soon. And when I am, you'll be sorry." She warned, offering a tight-lipped glare. Her soft, velveteen tiers were pursed in a thin-line of threat and her eyes burned with rage.
"You'll never be able to defeat my greatest invention," Steven chuckled at her. "You'll never beat Slick Cooper, the Dark Raccoon." Steven's voice faded as Carmelita broke into a sprint, heading out of the room. She dashed down the hall, looking for the nearest way out of the building. She had to get back to Bentley and the rest of the Cooper Gang and let them know what's going on. She had to hurry.
It only took a few moments to find a staircase. Once she did, the Inspector took the steps two at a time, occasionally jumping the half-flight, 15 stairs at once. She whirled about in the square staircase that was currently labeled at "Floor 13". Was it true? Was there really a clone of Sly Cooper? Were they just playing with her mind or did this imposter exist? Why did they let her go? Did they want her to lead them to the real Sly? She had thousands of questions running through her head all at once, now that the confusing sensations had worn off.
Carmelita finally came to the second floor sign but she balked when she realized that there were no more descending stairs. She kicked a metal swing-door open and walked out into the room. It was filled with machinery from wall to wall and organized into rows. There had to be another staircase that took her to the first floor. She began pacing the rows of computers, searching for a way out.
The aisles of electronic devices were all taller than she was, but she could tell by the height of the ceiling that this was a fairly tall room. It was at least two or three stories in height and she could see that the labyrinth of computers was far more extensive than she initially realized. Miss Fox broke into a sprint, coming to the end of one row then turning left at a metallic intersection and breaking into a run, once more. The further she went, the closer she came to the center of the lab.
Suddenly, she found herself in a clearing, surrounded by a metaphorical metallic forest. In the center was a glass pillar filled with water. It was foggy with condensation but there was a shadowy figure inside. Carmelita approached it cautiously, keeping her gun at the ready. She stopped in front of the massive glass pillar and reached her left paw out, wiping away the cloudy condensation from the glassy structure.
Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't find it to breathe; her lungs ceased from shock. Her knees felt soft and she wanted to sit down just so that she could take all of this in; it was intense. With an unconfident step, she stumbled back, just gawking at the contents of the tube. Her jaw hung wide open.
Within the glass pillar, a black furred raccoon with three gray stripes around the tail was housed in silence. He was bare of clothing and had several suction-cups over his body with wires leading out the back of the glass tube. On occasion, they would send small jolts of electricity into his body, stimulating the growth of his muscles. Every so often, his leg, arm or face would twitch from the current.
A reading on a monitor directly beneath the tube displayed his current muscle mass at 75 Percent of maximum ability. While standing there, Carmelita noticed the reading change to 76 percent. She continued to gawk for another moment then she lifted her pistol and shot at the glass chamber. Her shot was deflected, bouncing off of a computer terminal that appeared to be completely bullet proof.
"I've got to warn the others," She mouthed in silence. After another moment, she began to find her voice once more. She finally announced, "These criminals are also guilty of illegally cloning a sentient man without the UN's expressed permission. This imposter cannot be allowed to carry out their plans! I thought this was nearly finished when I killed Karla Chintzy but this is only the beginning!" She exclaimed.
Her ears perked up instinctivly. Without further warning, she began to pivot, putting her body in motion. A mechanical whirring noise had filled the area. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see two mini-guns beginning to rotate. The scaled down chain-gun attachments of Steven's robotic attack suit were revving up, on his shoulders. She dove out of the way just as the first one hundred rounds ripped from the duel spinning barrels.
Each barrel consisted of four metal tubes that spun each time a round of shells were fed into the weapon. A cacophony of loud gunshots ripped through the quiet laboratory. Until now an ambient humming noise was all that could be heard from the city of computers; each had their own cooling fan, buzzing softly to draw in the cool climate controled environment and expell the mechanically generated heat.
They were so loud they drowned out the air conditioning for this room but in sharp contrast, Steven's combat suit shattered the dull, ambiant humming with ease. Those high velocity rounds ripped from the twin shoulder-mounted mini-guns. She moved quickly, in order to avoid being turned into swiss cheese.
Bullets bounced in every which way, each one forced to ricochet off of the bullet proof computer equipment. She leapt upwards and grabbed the top of one large gray computer server, pulled herself on top of it then dove over to the other side of it, seconds before being riddled with holes. The mini chain-guns came to a stop, ending on an electric sounding whine. Carmelita panted softly, looking around for another way out. She could now hear the gentle metallic thumping of each footstep made by Steven, still inside of the combat suit.
Only two suits existed. One had been stolen by Bentley, belonging to Steven's clone; the other was now in use by Steven, himself. Carmelita ran away from the noise of the machine's footsteps. She scrambled up the side of another wall of computers, then stood atop of them for a moment, scanning for an exit door.
Across from the way she came in, there was another stairwell with an arrow pointing down above the doorway. She began to run, carefully balancing herself, along the top of the computers. She could see the bubble-shaped cockpit top of the machine several rows away, waking by and changed her direction to better avoid crossing paths with it. She had to hurry.
Her feet carried her with grace and once she crossed the immense laboratory, she paused to look back over her shoulder. Several rows back was a large glass pillar that rose from out of the center of the complex room. It was filled with liquid and foggy with condensation. She could see that the labyrinth of computers consisted of an extensive set of rows that would take hours to navigate without a map. Did they all have a purpose? It seemed incredible to think that every single one of them had a job and a purpose.
Each super computer had a task of properly breaking down and decoding DNA of Sly Cooper taken from a sample of his blood during an early capture, only yesterday. Each computer to the left of every super computer was given the task of archiving the information incase of power loss, followed by another computer to rewrite the strand of code. Another computer was given the task of archiving the rewritten information while another computer in the row was given the task of processing the data and analyzing it for weaknesses and making repairs where necessary.
These rows were compiled of several computers per section. All of the rows combined simply created a maze of machinery which had only one purpose… to create a perfect Sly Cooper Clone, affectionately named Slick Cooper. They were undoubtedly already tested to make Steven's clone but that man was dead now. Even the perfect creations had flaws.
Carmelita couldn't allow this to be finished. She knew she had to hurry. She ran along the top of the computer rows, approaching the door on the other end of the room. She hopped back down to the floor and took that staircase down to the ground level.
It was time to get out of here and hurry back to the Cooper Gang. She needed to warn them that some psycho imposter was about to be added to their list of problems. It all seemed impossible. And yet, she knew she had to press on. Carmelita Fox dashed through the archaic looking lobby. It was far different than what she'd seen so far, decked out in dark stones from one end to the other.
Her senses were assaulted by darkness and mystery, at times smothering in its intensity. When Inspector Fox stopped, she felt curiously as though she were a peasant come to call upon the Grand Manor of old. The carpet in the entrance was red and soft under her boots. Crimson curtains with velvet lining hung, dividing the entrance and the lobby itself. They were pulled back and fastened with ornate gargoyles, their bulky arms holding the drapery in a tight fisted strangle.
Carmelita's eyes wondered the area, cautiously scanning for guards but there were none to be seen, just yet. The floors were a deep dark wood, and the walls were blocks of stones... basalt it appeared to be... of the most abysmal black. Here and there it was shot through with an odd vein of white. At times it looked much like lightning arcing across a midnight sky in a thin line of threat.
She narrowed her eyes, which reflected the soft flickering light of the sconces which held candles with in them. They only added to the ambiance, and hung in countless numbers along the walls. Traditional lighting consisted of recessed lights that were barely visible in the ceiling, along with ornate wrought iron chandeliers, complete with modernized bulbs.
There was a receptionist desk but it was shaped more like a bar counter along one far wall. A petite woman was sitting behind it, more than half way down, looking oddly out of place. Constructed of pewter, mahogany, smoked glass and basalt; it seemed to stretch for miles, housing a tiny hipped hamster with puffy cheeks. She had a baby face and looked completely ridiculous sitting there with a smile. She waved to Carmelita, boisterously.
"Hello, madam, can I help direct you somewhere today?" Her chipper, cheerful voice was a stark contrast from the dreary surroundings. Carmelita nearly balked, narrowing her eyes at the girl.
"Downtown Prague?" The vixen's inquiry was simple and to the point.
"Just take the highway, east bound towards the buildings on the horizon. Follow it right into town square. Anything else I can do for you today, miss?" She asked. Her pleasant voice was sickeningly sweet like a broken bees nest, dripping with honey, on the floor of a soured vineyard. Carmelita eyed her suspiciously, heading for the door.
"Tell your boss that he's a crazy, demented lunatic," Carmelita instructed, adding, "Ask him what he plans to do with the world if he succeeds in taking it over and tell him that his psychotic behavior will not be tolerated and that the United Nations will nuke this building if they find out the extent of his terrorist-like ways. Tell him that Interpol will find him out and he'll be ruined when the dust settles. What do you have to say to that? Did you get it all, or should I repeat it?"
"I'm sorry," Said the young lady, barely 18 years old, "I've not met him. I'm only here for today. My temp-agency located me here as a part-timer because the normal secretary is out with the Flu. I'd rather not back-talk him because then he won't sign my temp-agency time sheet. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"
Carmelita blinked, shaking her head. "Interpol is hiring interns, full and part time. Good pay, great benefits. Go check it out kid," Carmelita muttered, heading for the door. She pushed the double doors open and walked outside, heading towards the highway. She turned to look at the building over her shoulder and frowned. It was breathtaking.
It was all that she had expected it to be, with the archaic theme carried out upon the exterior. The building was free standing, hinting oddly at a feudal estate. A bell tower was perched upon its top. The tower's look was completed with archaic bell. She had to wonder if it tolled the Midnight hour, then surmised it was only for special occasion as it looked new and shiny. There was even a possibility that the bell was never used before. Behind the smaller building, a grand castle stood as majestic as one could ever hope for.
The doors she'd just come through were equally decorated. On each door hung one ever-watching Gargoyle with its wings folded back against its body in ominous form. Jeweled red eyes gleamed from their place deep within the creatures head, and seemed to beckon anyone that looked their way. Inspector Fox's eyes roamed upward and took in the lobby tower at a glance. The slats above the bell were decked out in stained glass that was articulate and beautiful. Garnet colored and lit, it seemed as jewel-like as the Gargoyle's eyes.
A shiver ran down Carmelita's spine and she turned her attention back towards the rest of Prague, beginning her hike back towards the town. Her shoulders were slumped and she felt as though the severity of all these terrible instances were weighing upon her shoulders. The crestfallen vixen continued to jog down the side of the snowy highway, leaving footprints in her wake that would cover up only moments later from the heavy snow.
Thick, plump specks of precipitation rained from the sky, giving the castle behind her a picture perfect backdrop. It was the cover of a postcard provided that nobody knew what sort of evil was brewing within its walls. Time was growing short. She had to hurry….
Sly's train had beaten the storm, heading north. Now in western Russia, the night was clear and the stars shined from above, mirroring his own eyes which twinkled with mirth. It had been a long time since he'd performed a real heist. The job at Interpol was just a warm-up, alluding to the real work ahead.
He was now donning a security disguise and held a leather briefcase in his right paw, which was weighed down with enough explosives and gadgets to make even a mercenary sweat. The train station was fairly quiet at this hour and Sly descended the boarding plank with only a few others in the area to join him. The ranks of the passengers thinned out and Sly soon found himself alone.
The thieving raccoon found his way to the Museum and stopped in the back of an alley to quickly change. It was a bit cold for changing clothes but Sly was quick to move. Upon finishing, he gave himself a look-over, heading in through the front door. There was a guard out front, smoking a cigarette. Donning the fabricated uniform, the imposter guard went in through the front doors and assumed his position on the top floor by a large set of windows, away from any main security cameras. In twenty minutes, the floor would be locked down and he'd move to steal.
Something caught Sly's eye through the window, however. It was a bright light down the end of the block. He took his binoc-u-com from his pack and zoomed in on the strange occurrence. From his position, he could see two people moving through the streets. One was in a wheelchair and one with a bushy tail who was carrying a gun. Sly had a strange sensation come over him and squinted, zooming in on the pair.
From first glance, he was almost positive it was Bentley and Carmelita so he patched a radio communication through the binocular communicator. "Bentley, you're still in Prague, right?"
"Yeah, of course I am. Are you in position?" Bentley replied; his tiny face was on the monitor on the lower left side of the goggle communicator.
The raccoon squinted again but the two people were moving out of position from the angle he was standing at. "I must be seeing things. I thought I saw you and Inspector Fox hurrying through the streets of Moscow, but one of them was in a wheelchair that looked remarkably like your tricked out seat. I had a two hour nap on the train but it must be nerves or something. I'm in position," Sly replied.
"I worry about you sometimes, Sly," Bentley mused. The tortoise shook his head slowly and added, "Sly, you'll need to keep your focus here. Let's not get distracted by some guy in a wheel chair and a pretty lady. You know I'm using my bionic leg attachment, now."
Sly nodded slowly, pulling the binoc-u-com from his face to rub at his eyes for a moment with the back side of his paw. "You're right. I'm on the heist. I'll contact you as soon as I've finished."
"Speaking of Inspector Fox, she's just come back and looks either exasperated or upset. I'm going to take care of this. We'll see you when the mission is completed. Bentley out."
Cooper nodded slightly, adding, "Well at least I know she's in Prague. That's a solid trip from Moscow. I'll catch up with you guys shortly," Sly said. The communication patch closed and Sly turned about to get started. He felt at the top of his stealing game but there was something odd that didn't sit right in the back of his mind. Intuition perhaps? He wasn't sure because, at the same time, he felt as though this was going to become a successful job. How could one feel good about a mission and at the same time, sense an absolute catastrophe waiting around the next corner? Only time would tell…
A/N: Everything goes CRAZY IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! BWAH HAA HA HAA HA. What sort of strange phenomenon has Sly Cooper just witnessed? What sort of twisted scheme did Carmelita stumble upon? How does Clockwerk and Penelope play into this? Will the tank be ready in time? Will Murray finish off the bosses and get those parts necessary FOR the tank to begin with? Well, the last one I'll answer for ya… Yeah, Murray succeeds but things get rough for him in time. I know this chapter was long but the last two chapters were important to set the stage for the next one… Chapter 18: "Paradox Of Destruction." I've not settled on a name for Chapter 19 yet. It will be called either "Picking Up The Pieces" or "The last Hope." But it's going to be a doosey. For those of you interested in my Sly-Series progress… I'm up to the PIRATE board in Sly3. Penelope just got ganked by the gang-plank-swank. Sorry, I'm using a Dialectizer to talk JIVE. That's why Dimitri was so easy to write for this chapter. Short lil' Cameo, I figured it was for fun. ;)
See ya in a few days when Chapter 18 goes up:D It's going to show just how evil "Vengeance" can be: Past, present or future! See ya soon!