a/n: I wrote the first 8 thousand words of this chapter… and it was good and it kept my attention but… I hated it. It wasn't powerful enough to be a climatic chapter. So… I might release it as an out take… it's just a bunch of conversations between Sly and Carmelita on the way to Panama. It's a dialogue between Sire and a small village of criminals and gang members just outside the Darien Gap… contracting their help to take over the three cargo ships… this isn't the first time I've decided to scrap a 10-plus page chapter and start fresh. Sometimes, I just want things to be RIGHT. It was a great chapter but it takes TOO LONG to get to the action and in a climatic chapter, we need ACTION baby! So, here you go! Let's get to the nitty gritty!
-kit
Chapter -29-
Two Birds with One Stone
Cool wind and warm, stinging rain assaulted Sly Cooper. The thievious raccoon was in a difficult position; he clung to a set of tension cables, flush against a metallic wall. A ten story drop yawned below his body, stretching out forever; there were so many ways to die…
Far below was churning waters. An impact at ten stories would surly end his life but if it didn't, it would certainly knock the wind out of him and numb his body on impact. If the landing didn't do the trick, drowning would. Then again, the massive blades of a cargo ship's propeller would slice and dice him into little furry giblets and he wasn't too fond of that idea, either. The hard rain, while warmer than it was in France, seemed to make the metal wall harder to scale.
Tension wires crisscrossed the metallic section, diagonally, vertically and horizontally. They were there to secure the four story wall of metal containers, assorted in colors, which would eventually be used on tractor trailers, in a shipping yard or on a train. Sly continued upwards, remembering how this entire ordeal began, starting from yesterday morning.
Once Sly and Carmelita trailed Sire all the way to Toulouse in France, they lost his track. He'd stolen a Concorde, number '14,332' from the AIRBUS factory that sat adjacent to the Toulouse Airport. Of the two Concorde jets on display in the factory, only one still flew. The '909' jet sat in disuse empty of fluids and with its electronics disconnected. This left Sly and Carmelita to charter a Leer Jet to Panama but their flight took all day.
Finally in Panama, Sly and Carmelita decided to have a little competition. They wanted to see who could secure the cargo first. Carmelita had been a little more difficult that Sly was ready for, however. She'd boarded the gangplank then pitched the board into the water. It left Sly only one option: He had to rail-walk his way up the mooring ropes then scale the wall of metal containers. The summit towered fourteen stories above the water and now that the rain was coming down, things were growing far more difficult.
The ship sat in a channel lock in the Panama Canal while a section of the lock filled with water. Sly glanced down over his shoulder and smirked at the fact that he was surrounded by ways to die. The only real problem was the fact that death greeted him from above as well. Cooper lifted his head, placing the bottom of his muzzle against the metal wall, looking straight upwards.
His eyes were squinted from the incredibly powerful rain, watching as tiny little glints of orange flashed high above. Men with assault rifles were spraying the area with bullets, trying to hit the raccoon but because of the intense rain, their visibility was limited. They knew he was there because they saw him just moments prior before the heavy rain started but now he was enshrouded in a natural veil. The only problem was the fact that his cover made climbing friction completely non-existent.
Cooper removed the cane from his teeth and clipped the hook into one of the horizontal tension cables then placed his feet firmly against the lip where one trailer was stacked upon another. He arched his back and locked his legs, pulling hard against the tension cable. Sly then retracted his feet, soaring straight up. The cane snagged another tension line, about fifteen feet higher.
Quite suddenly, one of the guns stopped firing. Seconds later, a shout of fear rushed passed Sly then quickly faded. The master thief glanced over his shoulder, seeing the body disappear in the heavy rainfall. Cooper half-cringed; he tried to block the image of a guard being torn asunder by the massive propeller blades in the churning waters. The other gun went quiet only for that very assault rifle to go flying passed, nearly striking the raccoon's shoulder.
Sly released his breath, coming under the sudden realization that he'd been holding it for a moment. The M4 rifle disappeared into the rainy void, beneath him. Without further warning, something snagged the tension line he was clinging to. The raccoon grimaced, clinching his paws around the cable so as not to slip. His eyes cut to the right and his jaw parted just a bit, seeing a guard clinging to it.
Having barely survived a three story drop, the guard's arm was caught in the line. He was bellowing in pain from falling three stories and landing on the high tension metal cable but it kept him from dying. With his free paw, the sopping canine reached for a gun in his boot. Sly narrowed his eyes, watching the man struggle for his sidearm.
Cooper, still hanging from his cane, swung his legs away then arched his back and kicked his feet forward. He swung to the right, hard, planting his heels into the guard's chest. The dog soldier jolted away from the metallic wall and went flying off into the haze, disappearing. Sly swung back and forth for a moment, at the edge of his cane, before coming to a stop. He then began his slow ascension, once more.
A feminine voice called to him from above. "Why, I must say I am shocked, Ringtail! Usually I'm two steps behind you, but this time, I'm three stories ahead!" Carmelita was at the top, chiding him. He couldn't see her in the rain but she must have known he was here, struggling up the side of a metal wall, because of the guards that were shooting down the side at him. Of course, now that both guards had been dispatched and thrown overboard, Sly wasn't pinned down anymore. He tried the tension cable jump trick again, now only two stories from the top.
From there, Sly grabbed a diagonal line, putting the cane in his teeth. He wormed his way upwards then captured a diagonally crossing line which went back to the left. He made his way up, line by line, until he reached the summit. Pulling himself up and over the side, the raccoon looked around then called out, "Are you still here, Carmelita?" No answer and the rain still seemed too heavy to see more than a few feet in front of his face.
Almost as soon as he stood up, the rain ended abruptly. Sly Cooper stood there, in the warm breeze, soaked to the bone. He glanced around quickly then reached for his pants, giving them a light tug away from his crotch so that it wouldn't ride up his legs. Satisfied that no one saw, he began a relaxed swagger across the massive stack of cargo containers. The clouds, high above, were being pushed by a heavy jet-stream, causing the sun to emerge only minutes later.
A loud shot rang out, causing Cooper's ears to flicker. He ran to the edge of the aft cargo section, looking straight down at the ship's main deck, two hundred feet below. Another shot rang out, this time causing his heart to stop as the round passed through the fur of his tail, leaving a sizable hole in the section of fur.
Cooper reached his cane down and pried open one of the trailer doors, beneath his feet. Another shot rang out and the raccoon evasively dove off the side of the trailers, hooking his cane into the locking mechanism on the trailer door. It swung open, leaving him to hang in the open air for a moment. The dizzying high of assorted colors and shiny, wet deck down below caused his to grimace.
He placed his feet on another trailer then pushed back off, swinging the large metal door shut. Once he neared the open trailer, he kicked his body up and landed inside with the door slamming shut. When he sat up, he was atop of a box pile. The sodden raccoon pushed his paw into the first box he was sitting upon. Cooper closed his fingers around something warm and soft. Clothing! He went back to the door and pushed it open just a few inches so that a little light was let into the trailer.
Sly's natural night vision allowed him to see in the dim illumination. He secured a pair of pants and a shirt that were in his size and changed out of the wet clothes. He tossed the soaking wet garments further back in the trailer then shook hard, rapidly drying his fur out. It was time to press on but with the sniper out there, waiting for him, he would have to be clever about it.
Sly gave it a moment then put his cane into his belt, behind his back, then charged the trailer door. He kicked it open then popped his parasail, heading out into the open air. The deck, leading up to the large control tower, was shiny from the sunlight that reflected off of the water that now rested upon the deck. His tail fluttered out behind him in the light gale, soaring towards the conning tower. More shots rang out, passing with a hiss that caused the raccoon's ears to flick in annoyance.
"Almost there," he said under his breath, kicking his legs forward to try and expedite the course of flight. His eyes zeroed in on a porthole which was wide open. Sly put his feet together and swung his body forward. He was dead on, passing through the porthole, crashing to the floor somewhere in the crew's quarters. The parasail was balled up in the window and he landed unceremoniously upon his tail. This meant that he was sitting on the cane, which was uncomfortable against his lower back.
He reached up, yanking the parasail in through the window by its strings then balled it up and stuffed it back into his sail sheath, under the back of his fresh shirt. Sly stopped to look into a nearby mirror between two bunks then smirked. "Nice threads…" Sly mused to himself, taking a moment to look over the clothing. The silk shirt and high dollar slacks gave him a casual-pimp sort of look. Dressed like this, he could have strutted into any club and owned the show.
Cooper licked his paw then half-slicked his hair back; some of his bangs flopped back in an almost anime-style tuft above his eyes. "That's the look," he added with a chuckle. "Now just where is Carmelita? She won't believe her eyes." A grin crept across his muzzle then he turned for the door.
There, in the doorway, was a man with two handguns trained on Sly's chest. Cooper approached him slowly, taking out his cane and placing the end on the floor. He held the hook so that it looked like a pimp's cane. All he needed now was a top hat or fedora. "I say, good sir," Sly announced quite dramatically. "A jolly good show, m'boy! Duel pistols and what-have-you! But you've made quite the grave error, ole' chap!"
"What the hell is you be talkin' about, gringo?" The Spanish speaking Lemur gave the left gun, followed by the right gun, a twirl on his finger. He then reversed the order, twirling the right then the left. Finally, he twirled both at the same time and shoved both weapons into his holsters. Sly took one step forward and the man removed the guns from the holsters once more, twirled them, then put them right in Sly's face.
"I say, I say!" Sly cried in the British accent. "A right nice performance, lad! But can you do this with your weapons?" He then lifted the cane and reached it over his shoulder, using the hook to scratch an itchy spot on his lower back. The more he scratched at his back, the more his left leg lifted, starting to shake. His left leg continued to shake, rising from the floor in a fit of spasms.
Sly suddenly swung his cane downwards, in an underhanded swing that caught the bottom of the attacker's right pistol then he kicked his left leg half-way up, only to follow through with a quick kick from his right leg, using his full weight. His foot knocked the other pistol up, into the air. Before either one could hit the ground, Sly jerked his body about, swinging the cane like a bat.
The hooked rod clipped the lemur across the face, sending him spiraling to the floor. Each gun landed on the ground with a dull thud. Cooper landed on the ground with his ankles parted in a wide stance. He gave the cane a twirl to show off then put it down the back of his belt again. Sly took a bow then snatched up both pistols. He turned towards the open window he'd come in through then tossed each one out.
Sly turned back to the guy on the ground who dizzily struggled to regain his equilibrium. Cooper leaned down and spoke directly into the man's ear. "You're pretty good with those guns but something tells me you're a real wimp, paw-to-paw. You can either join your friends in the water or sit here and behave. They're out back, having a Propeller Party; the choice is yours."
To Sly's total amusement, the lemur stood up, approached one of the bunks and sat down on it, folding his paws. Sly cocked his head at him then smiled. "Good choice, Senor. Muy bueno." Sly then stepped out into the hallway and shut the door to the crew's quarters behind himself.
Now to find Carmelita.
Carmelita Fox leaned around a corner, watching several men going through boxes of cargo. Each container had been packed by category, making their jobs easier. Whenever they found a container with clothes, they moved on to the next. They were looking for a container filled with ancient stone and metal artifacts that was en'route to a museum.
She was letting them do all the work of searching but she was beginning to grow as frustrated as the search team. They moved on to an adjacent trailer, opening the doors and tearing into the first set of boxes. One of them shouted, "I've found museum brochures in this box and strange, old coins in this one! Get more men, this might be the trailer!" in Spanish.
Carmelita knelt down, staying out of sight. It didn't take long for more men to show up on the scene. She waited. It would take a while for them to find it, if it was even in the trailer. Each metal box was approximately fifty-three feet in length, so she knew it would take some time for them to find it. She hoped that they would; she wanted to rub it in Cooper's face.
Sly Cooper… he'd been rather cooperative as of late. He admitted to breaking into Interpol but swore it was to steal the HateChip replacement. If he was correct, it would be the only thing he'd ever stolen that she could actually overlook. Carmelita moved back into a nearby cargo container that had already been searched; she closed the door until it was only open about an inch. She watched through the tiny vertical gap, waiting and listening. Meanwhile, her mind wondered back to how her competition with Cooper began, earlier.
As she recalled, they were tracking Sire to France. He used his powers to enlist a small crew to fly a Concorde out of Toulouse Airport. It was one of the last remaining flight-worthy Concorde jets in existence, regardless of the retirement status. Sly offered to pay their way and charter a small Leer Jet; it was their best option.
She smiled inwardly, recalling the conversation which started around the time they took off…
"I guess," she replied casually. "I'm just… I don't know. I've gone through a lot, you know? Not nearly as much as my doppelganger but it's pretty bad to think that she went through all that torment for nothing. She's dead now." Carmelita sat in one of the large, cushy leather chairs in the small business jet's cabin.
"I don't see it that way," Sly replied. She glanced down at the raccoon whose head was perched upon her armrest, looking up at her like a puppy dog. Instead of ignoring his statement, she rested her arm across his face and shifted her weight, wiggling into the comfortable backrest. He simply continued with his explanation. "She died so that you wouldn't have to. My doppelganger also died, Carmelita. Now she's with him… The thought of that provides me with some sort of closure on the issue."
"That's…" Carmelita withdrew her arm from his face, lifting her paw and placing it upon his head. "…very sweet of you, Sly. If I tell you something do you promise not to make a big deal out of it?"
"Sure," he replied with a slight nod, his muzzle never leaving the armrest.
Fox took a long, slow breath. She then said, "The future Carmelita told me that another doppelganger of herself, one who died before her very eyes, was being romantic with another version of Sly Cooper. After seeing the way they were entangled in their very last moments together, she was pretty sure something physical happened between them. A woman just knows that sort of thing and a woman knows herself better than any."
Sly's response was simple. "I could only hope to be so lucky." He trailed off for a moment, then smiled back up at her and told the Inspector, "I really wouldn't want to be alone without you, no matter if it's life or afterlife. Maybe I'll go to hell for stealing, or whatever, but nobody's perfect and I think we both went … will go… to the same place when we die. Love is a very powerful thing and I've already come to terms with how I feel towards you and about us."
"US, huh?" Carmelita looked away from him but her eyes panned back, watching him out the corner of her eye. A sly little grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle which made him smile a bit more in reply. His eyes shut and he listened to the sound of her voice as she continued speaking. "You could only hope to be so lucky," she said, repeating what he'd just told her. She then added, "When I barged into the Cooper Family vault (A/N: end of Sly3 Game), I realized one thing…."
"Yeah? What's that?" Sly asked, keeping his eyes shut and just listening to her.
Carmelita shifted her weight just slightly as the plane shuttered again, picking up speed on the runway. "I realized that I was going to lose my mind; I saw you lying there after Doctor M. struck you. I thought you were dead. I realized that I couldn't go the same way without you in my life. A part of me was ready to mourn; more than a funeral for a friend… Had you been killed, it would have been more like a funeral for a part of myself. I know for a fact that a part of me was ready to die inside..."
"That's really sweet," Sly replied. "But I realized something, too."
"Go on," Carmelita said.
Cooper's eyes opened, gazing up at her. "I realized that you'd make a great Carmelita Cooper."
"What?" Carmelita half-snapped in an attempt to appear insulted. Sly only grinned at her adorable outburst.
"It's like this," he said with a casual air to his warm tone. "Only a Cooper should be able to make it through that Vault. I struggled to get through it. You got through it, too. Doc M. used a flying machine to circumvent the tricks and traps but you actually got through it in time to help me out. That means you're witty, crafty and dexterous enough to make a great Cooper. Hmm," He pondered aloud at the end, adding, "Carmelita Cooper. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"Don't get any funny ideas, Ringtail." He watched as she turned her head back towards the window. Their gaze met in the glassy reflection and she offered a demure smile. "Stop staring before I arrest you."
"I love you," Sly replied.
"Stop it," she mumbled. It didn't happen like in the dream; she wasn't completely undone by his words. No, she was smiling and her heart was beating a little faster but it didn't hit her as hard as it did in the dream. Then again, he was saying it plainly to her, here and now. Had he waited to tell her when they were dancing or after sliding his paws on either side of her face, looking into her eyes… who was she kidding? She knew he wasn't a Casanova; he was a thief with romanticized allure at best. She tried to play the whole thing off and simply said, "Yeah, yeah. I love you too, ya brat. You'd better not make me regret saying that; if you steal again, I'll lock you up in solitary confinement until you're too old and feeble to pick up that cane."
"Locked up in Carmelita's basement," Sly mused thoughtfully. "Now why does that sound like fun? Well, it could be fun. You'd have to catch me first."
"I already have," she replied plainly. "You're right here. All it would take is for me to shift my weight the right way and bam! You'd be handcuffed to my arm. I'd take you to the deepest darkest prison on the planet and burry you in a cage beneath the dungeon. And you'd deserve it for toying with my affections. So, the next time you say you love me, you'd better mean it."
"I meant it the first time we dated," Sly replied. "I left you but only out of my love for you and my desire for your safety. Yeah, I know, it's complicated. I'm a guy so forgive me for being unable to explain the way I feel properly but if you'll give me a second chance… I want to beat these guys as a team, Carmelita."
"We'll do it as a team," she told him with a reaffirming nod. "But as far as the dating thing…" She looked back at him, gazing into his rather beautiful brown eyes. She did love him. She hated the fact that he already knew it, though. "We'll discuss it later, okay? And you'd better leave that damn heirloom in the vault. I'm a traditional girl; rings work better than pendants."
"You'll be the first fox in the Cooper Line," Sly told her. "Our kids are gonna look so…" He quickly found his muzzle shut by her paw which came to rest upon the top of his nose, pinning his jaw to the armrest.
"Don't push it." She gave him a sharp look then returned her gaze to the window. "You're probably right about the resting thing; I'm going to try and take a nap, okay?" Her eyes shut once more, closing out the rainy streaks that were now trickling horizontally across the window. A slight grin touched her feminine visage, leaving Sly to wonder what she was envisioning.
"Hey, by the way," Sly said, somewhat muffled by the paw on his snout.
Carmelita's simply replied with, "Hush." Concise and right to the point. As far as she was concerned, he always got the last word. Not this time; dating was a woman's territory. She owned the rights and if they were to ever date, he would be her property, not the other way around. Men just didn't get it; she had him pledging his love to her and that was exactly what she wanted, for some reason. Maybe it was because she was hurt when he left and she wanted him to beg her back. Maybe it was because she was obsessed with him and wanted some sort of indication that he felt the same way for her. Either way, she felt… victorious.
Carmelita Fox craned her head, watching the men in the trailer across the aisle. They'd not discovered anything noteworthy just yet. It was starting to grate on her nerves. She really wanted to wrap up this competition and show Sly who the boss really was. She was a fourth generation cop and she was very good at what she did.
Inspector Fox listened to the native language of her home country; the Hispanic language was something she'd not heard or spoken in quite a while. Sly was a little shaky with his Spanish but it wasn't too horrible. She decided that she would have to work on him for a while. Right now, however, she just wanted those thugs to find the stupid artifact so she could take it and leave. Being the first to capture it was pivotal; she and Sly had a competition going and she didn't want to lose.
Thoughts of 'the competition' made her smile, sitting there in the dark with the light on part of her face. Carmelita watched the cargo container intently but her mind still wondered back to how she and Sly turned this mission into a friendly face off, after waking up this morning on the Leer Jet.
They made their way to the Leer Jet's small exit then headed down to the tarmac. "Now we just need a ride," Sly said. "I'm not quite twenty-five yet, so don't look at me for renting a car."
"No problem," said a confident Carmelita in reply. "I've got connections all over Central and South America. These are my childhood stomping grounds, after all." She waved a paw and headed across the concrete towards the edge of the airport. "I know someone, not far from here, that will lend us the equipment we're going to need."
"Really?" Sly asked, coming up besides her. "It makes me wonder what you were thinking when you took your job in Paris." He gave her a grin, reaching for her paw. She quickly pulled hers away from his, grinning playfully. Sly kept his palm extended to her but she shrugged it off with a sort of wink.
"If I didn't, I'd have never met you," she said to the raccoon.
Sly returned with a smile, adding, "That's rather sweet, Carmelita."
"No," said the vixen with a light chuckle, "I'm not attempting to be sweet; I am just glad that fate has offered me the chance to nab Sly Cooper and France provided me with an opportunity that the America's could never offer. If I never met you, how could I ever jail you?" There was that and… the fact that Interpol's main office was located in Lyon.
The raccoon folded his paws behind his back, grinning in reply to her. "And then you suddenly realized that the streets of Paris are my childhood turf," Sly mused thoughtfully. "And the next thing you know, we're playing cops and robbers while head-over-heels in love."
Carmelita cocked a brow at him, playing the difficult one yet again. "Who said anything about being in love?" She reached over and gave him a solid slap on his shoulder and told him, "Keep dreaming, Sly. It's only a matter of time before I catch you. You can't run from me forever. Let's get this job done so we can get back to our personal 'street waltz' that we're always so fond of, hmm?" She wanted to take a quick stab at his ego but for some reason, the look on his face told her that it didn't work.
Sly's grin melted into a soft, yet equally playful smile. "Why, Carmelita, is that a challenge or are you asking me on a date in the streets of Paris?"
"A date with you?" She shot back with a smirk, "Ha! That'll be the day in your dreams."
Sly just shook his head with a light chuckle. "I can see you've slept well during the flight. You're back to your old, feisty, quick witted ways. I'm still going to put a ring on your finger when I have absolute proof that this entire situation is settled. There's nothing you can do to stop me, Inspector Fox."
"Good luck with that, Ringtail," Carmelita replied with an airy tone and a roll of her eyes. She then changed the subject, telling him, "We need intelligence on what Sire is doing here and I intent to find out what's up before it's too late. Then we can stop him and call it a night. I hope the rest of your gang is successful in stopping Clockwerk."
"When I know that Clockwerk isn't coming back," Sly trailed off for a moment, coming closer to her. He then told her, "I want to resume where we left off in our relationship last year. I'll only use my thievery skills to our advantage in the course of what is considered legal."
"Ha! That'll be the day," the vixen snapped in rebuttal. "Yeah, I slept well on that plane; no damn Nightmares this time. I'll take that as a good sign. What do you say that we turn this into a competition?"
"If you win," Sly thought aloud, "I'll join Interpol and we resume where we left off as Constable Cooper and Inspector Fox. Also, I'll cook you breakfast for a week."
"You? Cook for me?" She tilted her head then shrugged slightly. "I've never tried your cooking; I thought you were the bachelor type who can't hardly rub two sticks together let alone cook food… At any rate," she paused, giving his offer some thought. Finally, she told him, "You're on. If you win, I'll say 'yes' to your offer of a relationship but only if you give up thievery. Only in the line of police work or if it's necessary to save the world; if you steal anything and it doesn't add up to those conditions, the relationship is over and you're going to jail."
"You drive such a hard bargain, Miss Fox," Sly said to her. "I still think Carmelita Cooper has a nice ring to it. Don't you?"
"I still think you're pushing your luck," snapped the vixen in reply. She then looked away, trying to hide a grin from him. "C'mon, my contact isn't much further." She paused in front of a chain-link fence then scaled and hopped over it. Sly followed suite and the two continued for the nearby highway, leaving the airport behind.
Carmelita emerged from her reverie, hearing one of the workers shout, "Dios Mio! Aqui! Aqui, amigo!" She leaned into the small space, watching them with a grin. She was about to win the competition and make Sly her partner again. Whether or not they dated was besides the point; she wanted to make Sly her subordinate as a cop. It would be the ultimate irony to his gang and he was the only partner she ever really trusted in the field, oddly enough.
"Yo soy…" Suddenly the man's words were cut short. Carmelita blinked in surprise, hearing a set of strange noises. Several of the cargo containers were thrown clear off the top, crashing upon the deck. The surface of the deck crumbled beneath their weight but they only sank by a deck or two, going into the hold. She stood up in the container she'd been hiding in, still confused.
The Hispanic workers suddenly bolted out of the metal trailer, scattering in all different directions. A deep flapping sound caused her ears to flicker and her heart to pause. Her eyes widened, realizing just what that noise really was. A shadow flashed across the wet deck, reflecting a gray object in the air. Her stomach dropped and her paws tightened into fists.
The only thing she could think of was that Bentley, Penelope and Murray must have failed. For Cooper's sake, she hopped that they were all alive, at this point. An ion canon roared to life, discharging an energy round into the deck aisle, at the center of the row between containers. The explosion threw Carmelita back further into the trailer she was hiding in. She landed on her tail on top of a box of dried Ramen noodles.
"Please, don't let that be Clockwerk," she groused, getting back to her feet. "He's not supposed to be finished yet. Those dreams weren't real; he can't be here, it's not fair!" she argued to the dark container of dried food. "I'm going to kick this bird's tail feathers clear back to Russia; oh man, am I pissed off."
"Vamanos! Rapido!" shouted one of the pirates to his friends. They were quick to disperse, running in every which direction. Carmelita kicked the door to her own trailer open and sprinted across the row towards the container with the artifact storage. Halfway out into the large cargo aisle, another massive energy round struck the ground before her. Her body was thrown from the concussive force and she landed on her back, ten feet away.
The Inspector's eyes opened and she was looking straight up in the air at Clockwerk. Her sharp amber gaze was quick to notice that Sly Cooper hung from his cane, latched on to one of Clockwerk's talons. Her eyes widened and she sat up. Clockwerk performed a barrel roll maneuver, inverting quickly in a full rollover. Sly's cane became dislodged from the massive metal bird and he began to fall.
Carmelita sat up, her heart nearly stopping in her throat. He continued to fall, mirrored in her eyes. A tiny whisper floated over her lips, "No… No, please." Suddenly, his parasail popped open and her heart leapt for joy. "That's it; hang in there, Ringtail. Hang in there," she murmured softly, pulling the duffle bag from her shoulder. She'd obtained it from the friend who worked as a Chief at the nearby Police precinct.
She knelt to one knee and opened the bag. Inside was an assortment of veritable death machines; guns in every flavor. Nestled between the sub machine gun and different caliber handguns there was a compact rocket launcher. She eased out the bulky rectangular device and eased it onto her shoulder. Carmelita gazed into the small glass eyepiece and lined up her shot then flipped off the safety.
"Eat this, you oversized Thanksgiving Turkey," she muttered under her breath, squeezing the trigger. The power of the compact rocket launcher was startling. The missile erupted from the front and forced her from one knee down to her tail.
The powerful rocket screamed upwards, passing Sly and continuing up to Clockwerk for a direct hit. The explosion launched Clockwerk's metallic body clear across the sky. His wings folded and he soared over her head, crash landed into the aft-end stack of metal cargo containers, snapping some of the high tension security lines. Silence followed only to be broken by Carmelita who simply thrust a fist up into the air then jerked it back down, hissing, "Yes!"
Sly landed on the deck, releasing the parasail. He looked over at Carmelita then glanced back at the trailer with boxes of artifacts spewed about. He lifted the first box into his paws, opened it then picked out a stone coin twice the size of his paw. He stared at it for a moment, leaving Carmelita to watch him, almost dumbstruck. He then turned to her, smiled, held up the piece and announced, "I won."
Before she could offer rebuttal, an explosively loud noise was heard, coming from the back end of the ship. Clockwerk emerged, furious. He spread his wings, throwing massive metal containers, fifty-three feet in length, into the air in all directions. Some went flying off the back of the ship while others landed on the dock. Other containers landed in various places, all about the ship. Clockwerk lifted his wings then pushed him down, with one powerful swoop, forcing his body back into the air.
"Dammit!" Carmelita said, pounding the ground with her fist. "He doesn't even look scratched!" She glanced back at the missile launcher; the ammunition was depleted. It was her ace in the hole and now it was worthless. "He's going to kill us both if we don't move!" she suddenly announced, standing up.
"Agreed, let's split!" Sly replied, turning to Carmelita. "Like my clothes?" he asked casually, reaching a free paw to her.
She reached for his wrist and he pulled her up. She snatched the half-opened duffle bag of remaining guns and slung it over her shoulder. "Well, well, aren't you a fashion statement. Let's go!" she added at the end. The two took off, running down the aisle, towards the bow of the cargo ship.
Sly glanced over his shoulder then skidded to a halt causing Carmelita to stop as well. "What are you stopping for, let's go!" shouted the vulpine Inspector.
"No, wait, look!" Sly replied, pointing back to the sky. She lifted her gaze, following his finger, only to balk in shock. Clockwerk was nowhere to be seen. "He's gone," Sly said, adding, "He's not even concerned with us; what's that all about? I'm almost insulted; he spent his entire life chasing after Coopers and this time, I jump at him and he practically ignores me. What gives? Are Coopers not good enough for the new Clockwerk?"
"Oh shut up, Ringtail. Be thankful he didn't rip you apart," Carmelita returned, placing her paws on her hips. "If he's in Panama and it's not to kill you then he must be here for Sire or Steven."
Sly frowned thoughtfully. "Let's head for the next ship and get the next piece but first… let's hide this one and contact Bentley. I wanna make sure my gang is all right."
"Hiding this piece," Carmelita began, adding, "Is a damn good idea. Let's scram before all hell breaks loose and the cops arrive." She suddenly paused, blinking. "Geeze; never thought I'd hear myself say that."
"I'm rubbing off on you," Sly told her with a grin. He took her wrist and gave a tug at her shirt, saying, "C'mon, Carmelita. Let's go, beautiful."
Bentley sat up in the rubble, a light chill against his skin. The tortoise reached to capture the glasses that were staring him in the face, less than an inch from his nose. Pebbles and dusty debris swelled around him as he stirred. "Penelope?" he called out.
"Ngh," someone grunted. The feminine voice was all too familiar and Bentley smiled slightly, just hearing that she was alive. She then said, "Dang, there's a crack in my left lens," referring to her own glasses. "When we want to bring the house down, we really bring the house down."
"Yeah," Bentley agreed, sitting the rest of the way up. "Where's Murray?"
"He's next to me," Penelope replied. "He's okay; I've got to wake him up. Did we destroy Clockwerk?"
"I don't know," Bentley said. "I don't see parts for him in the rubble but there is a possibility that he's completely buried."
"Hold on," Penelope said, wiggling out from under the debris. She pulled herself up onto the surface and shook hard, clearing her fur of the dust. Snow was still falling but it was much lighter, now. She pulled her glasses from her muzzle, examined them for a moment then blew off the extra dust, replacing them on the bridge of her nose. She then approached Bentley and sat down next to him with a frown. "Call it woman's intuition but I don't think we got Clockwerk. How long were we out? My watch is broken."
Bentley replaced his own glasses upon his beak-shaped nose then looked at his own left wrist. "We've got time. Not to worry. Sly's several hours behind us, in Panama. I'd be willing to say it's about ten thirty in the morning, over there. My communicator is broken; let's wake Murray and get the heck out of here. We'll need transportation and I want to verify that Clockwerk has been destroyed. At the very least, I want to know that Steven the Skunk is gone." He stood up, still using the bionic legs. After a quick moment to dust himself off and fix his bowtie, the turtle stretched and approached his mousey girlfriend. "I hope the big guy isn't hurt."
"I looked him over," Penelope said. "Murray looks perfectly fine. He's curled up under the rubble to stay warm. It's pretty darn cold out here. Let's hurry and find a warm place where we can contact Sly and Carmelita."
"Right," Bentley replied with a firm nod. "But let's first wake Murray then check and make sure Clockwerk is defeated."
Sly Cooper was carefully perched atop the large metal antenna above the second cargo ship. Sixteen stories in the air from the water, Sly had his heels together with his toes pointed outwards, resting comfortably on the spire tip. His eyes were on both the sky and the ship's deck, watching the patrol patterns of the enemy. This information would allow for Carmelita to board the ship without being spotted.
Here he was, helping her look for these strange artifacts that she claimed had something to do with Clockwerk. He knew she'd gotten her information from the fox who worked at the police department but he wondered how she knew him. They didn't look related after all. His mind wondered back to the brief moment after she'd retrieved the borrowed gear and the keys to a police cruiser…
Finally, Carmelita reemerged from the office with a duffle bag and a set of car keys in her paw. She made eye contact with Sly then hooked her thumb off to the side and jerked her head. He was quick to follow, going around the counter, through an aisle of cluttered desks and off to the left. He followed her to a side door which fed into a large fenced lot full of police cruisers.
"What's in the bag, babe?" Sly offered a smile. She didn't reply to him; instead, she unlocked one of the police cars and slid into the driver's seat. Sly took 'shotgun', slipping into the front seat and pulling the door shut. He went for his seatbelt, asking, "Well?"
"Hush for a moment," she replied, starting the vehicle. Once she drove it up to the gate, the weight sensor under the pavement caused a green light to flash adjacent to the fencing. A rollback gate began to retract until she had enough space to squeeze through. Carmelita punched the accelerator before the gate was all the way open, heading out onto the main road. She flipped on the emergency lights and headed for the Canal. In a casual tone, the vixen told him, "We're pretty far behind schedule. Sire has taken over three ships at the Canal; he's holding the channel locks hostage for the time being and now he's probably got several pieces; those dang artifacts he's all hopped up about."
"Okay, wait," Sly asked, holding his paws up in an almost defensive manner. "I missed something. What artifacts is he going after again? Something to do with Clockwerk right?"
Carmelita offered a slight nod, continuing with the explanation. "Karla was supposed to bare a son once she possessed that diamond your family keeps in the safe. An immortal master thief would be the perfect pawn to retrieve all the artifacts he needs; my doppelganger discovered his plot; they want to resurrect some sort of spirit and put it into Clockwerk's new body. Once that's done, he'll usher in some sort of Armageddon; he's one of those damn idiots who pray for the end of the world. It's stupid, if you ask me."
"That's all this whole thing is about?" Sly snorted in disgust. "They terrorized my family over a diamond and they wanted it so that they could have an immortal child who wouldn't question orders… just so they could use him to obtain impossible fragments of something that would cause the end of the world? Do I have that straight?"
"On the nose minus a few minor details," Carmelita replied. "All of this craziness for a stupid 'End of the World whim' and believe me," she grumbled, "I'm annoyed. Those pieces were placed in the far corners of the world in fragments for a very good reason. They need to be destroyed. I guess the ancient times didn't have a good way of destroying them. The immortal Master Thief child was supposed to become a steward for the new Clockwerk; a knight to do his master's bidding. What kinda stupid crap is that?"
Sly glanced out the window then mumbled, "They should have scattered each piece to a different Volcano."
"I agree," said Carmelita. "We've either got to steal the pieces off the ship, behind Sire's back, or we have to take him out."
"I say we steal the pieces then take him out," replied Cooper. "Then we destroy them one at a time."
"No disagreement here," Carmelita told him with a slight smile. "That duffle bag is full of weapons. I should be able to use a sniper rifle on Sire without being in proximity of his aura. We'll have to eyeball the situation as we go."
Sly's expression changed to a grin of amusement. "You love to dance, you like to use large guns and you're challenging me to who can defeat the bad guys first… You've always been my kinda woman, Carmelita. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to you."
"You know, Cooper," the vixen said, keeping her eyes on the road and her demeanor rigid. "You sure feel comfortable with saying stuff like that to me as of late. Is there something I said or did to make you think that I would melt in your paw to your charm?"
"Oh, you know," Sly replied, rolling his left paw about before adding, "I assume you simply feel the same way that I do but you're inability to trust keeps you from opening up around me. Provided that I've toyed with your affections and even hurt your heart in the past; I think I can still make it up to you."
"When we were talking about engagements earlier," Carmelita tried not to fidget by gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"Yes?" Sly turned his head to her; cars and objects were a blur outside as the vixen raced the marked cruiser down the road with the siren blaring and the lights shining.
"…I was just joking and such," she told him. "You're a thief and I'm a cop, Cooper. You won't change and neither will I. Right? We're just in this mutually because I have nothing on you at the moment and I'm trying to help a kidnapped victim who, record aside, was a victim in all of this."
"Carmelita," Sly said. She slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt, one hundred yards from the first ship. She turned her head to him and he reached his paws for her cheeks, cupping her face. "It's like this," he said. "I love you. I'm in love with you and I'll always love you. I know I've broken your trust, but you've not broken mine and I feel there is still some hope for us. I'll do my best to prove it, but for now… this will have to be good enough." He then leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.
She tensed as soon as their lips met, yet again. She drew in a sharp breath of air through her nose, keeping her lips pursed and pressed to his. Once the kiss ended, she tried to regain her composure and offer the first witty retort before he could get any gloating done. "You just find me irresistible, don't you? Can't keep your paws or your lips off of me, can you? Dirty thieving lecher," she said, snapping the last word at the end. She then looked away.
Sly simply gawked at her for a moment. He could see that she was secretly grinning in the reflection of the windshield which caused him to relax, leaning back in the seat of the vehicle. His sangfroid demeanor returned and seeing her secret smile helped to inflate his ego just a bit.
"What is it about me?" Sly asked. "My swagger? My ability to get things done? Is it a professional respect of knowing the ole' nemesis? What is it about me that causes you to close your eyes when I kiss you? Is it a satisfaction in knowing that I want you when I pretend to give you the slip? Is it something deeper like an obsession? Or is this all about just wanting to be wanted by someone who is of your caliber?"
Carmelita jerked her head back at him, her jaw parted just slightly as if she was offended. "You low down… dirty… scroungy… mangy… criminal!"
"Why yes," Sly said with a grin. "Yes I am. And I'm going to win this competition while I'm at it," he added, opening the car door. She opened hers as well then paused, reaching her other paw for his shirt. Sly paused, looking back to her with inquiry in his eyes. "Yeah, tuits?"
Carmelita thrust her paws out, snagging him by the collar, drawing his face to hers; her eyes blazing at him. "Listen to me," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Not only am I going to show you how a real cop gets things done but as far as I'm concerned… regarding our past relationship? You know what?" She smirked, still holding his collar in her fists. "I thought you left because you didn't love me but, in reality, I see far more clearly now. It is all clear, Sly: I've got you whipped." She then pulled his face to hers, kissing him with intense hungry fervor.
After a moment, she gave the surprised thief a shove and quickly exited the police car. "Also, if I win, you get to spend at least one night in jail. Just so I can gloat at you." She then shouldered her duffle bag and headed for the gangplank. While Sly watched her, she grabbed either end of the duffle in her paws and used it to smack the guard at the bottom of the plank. He teetered backwards and fell into the water.
Carmelita then ascended the plank. Once she was at the top, she retracted it then gave it a kick so that it went straight off the side of the ship and into the water. She looked down at the cruiser from up on the side of the ship, gave Sly a flirty wink and a smirk then disappeared from his view.
His daydream was interrupted by the sudden movement of two guards racing across the deck. He scanned his eyes forward to make sure they hadn't spotted Carmelita. She wanted him to take a sniper rifle up to this point but he refused to go putting bullets through people's head. She had argued that she was the pilot and he was the gunner but Sly didn't really feel comfortable putting high caliber rounds into people's skulls. At any rate, he now wished that he'd listened to her advice so he could dispatch the two men.
They continued down the planks to the far end of the ship with their weapons drawn. Sly continued to squint, trying to ascertain the validity of their target. Sly watched as they peered over the front of the ship. He drew his communication binoculars and zoomed in on the duet. Suddenly, coming up over the lip of the ship was none other than Clockwerk.
"Damn! Him again!" Sly hissed, opening a channel to Carmelita. "Big Bird is back! Where are you?"
"I'm already on the ship," came her casual reply. "And… I've just located the second artifact. This one was easy; it was even labeled, this time. Sire is going to be pissed!"
"You're already on the ship?" Sly exclaimed. His ears twitched in the moderate gale, so high up in the sky.
"Honey," Carmelita touted in a sassy voice over the communicator, "I'm not only already on the ship, I've got the goods and I'm heading for the exit. What the heck has got you so worked up?"
Sly shook his head with a sigh; obviously her attention was being diverted by something other than him. "Like I said, Clocky is back. He's engaging the guards for us. Let's split, babe."
"Babe, huh?" came her crackling voice over the earpiece.
"Yeah," Sly quickly replied. "Remember, I won the competition, so you've got to concede to be my 'babe'. Let's get this show on the road; we've got one ship left and Clockwerk two-point-oh is making me a little nervous." Sly watched as the monstrosity snatched one of the guards off the deck and used the massive talons to shred the man into kibble. Cooper grimaced in reply, shaking his head slowly. "Poor bastard," he mused under his breath.
A feminine voice came over the communicator again. "I'm out, heading for the third ship," said the vixen. Sly blinked, looking around for her.
Sly scanned the immediate area. "Either I need glasses or you're going to make a better Carmelita Cooper than I thought. Where in the heck are you?"
Her reply was concise, now filled with a bit of distortion from the rush of the wind in her face on the other end of the line. "Hang-glider; I'm fifty yards from the third ship." Sly's eyes lifted, quickly spotting a tiny little triangle in the distance.
"How in the world did you get out there so quickly?" he cried in amusement.
Carmelita snickered over the radio. "You must have been paying attention to those guards and Clockwerk. I used the distraction to escape from the side. I was going to glide to the dock but a good gust of wind gave me vertical lift. Now I'm going straight to the third ship. See ya there, Ringtail! Oh and by the way," she added with a snarky chuckle, "You said it yourself; no dating until you were positive that Clockwerk was out of commission. So therefore, I'm nobody's 'babe', babe." She then closed the communicator.
Sly watched as the small triangular glider disappeared behind the conning tower of the third ship. It was located farther up the canal in a different locking bay. Clockwerk was beginning to attack the second ship, tearing into the cargo containers that lined the deck, similar to the first ship. "Dang," Sly said, watching the carnage. "That's my cue to bust a move," he whispered, readying his secondary parasail. The raccoon leapt from the tall antenna and popped the chute, gliding down towards the dock on the starboard side. He'd have to run to make it up to the third ship in time.
Bentley shook his head with a sigh. Murray and Penelope stood adjacent to the bionic-legged turtle. The tortoise balled his hands up into fists. "Clockwerk has escaped, I can't reach Sly or Carmelita and they're half a world away. We've got to find a way to get to Panama. Let's hurry!"
There seemed to be only one small problem with Bentley's plan. They were in an interrogation room for the Czech National Guard. Shortly after waking up, they soon realized that the entire building was locked down and secured by the Czechoslovakian National Guard. They were rescued as survivors but proving that they were bystanders on the outside of the building would be impossible, especially since they were located at the heart of the building.
It was a miracle that they'd all survived but now they were being detained for questioning in regards to the destruction of the People's Republic Bank. Bentley began pacing the cell, his arms folded. "We've got to hurry," he muttered, shaking his head slowly. "What in the heck are we doing to do to help Sly and Carmelita? What if she arrests him when everything is all over with? What if the escaped Clockwerk kills them both like in Inspector Fox's nightmares?" To his questions, Penelope and Murray remained silent.
The tortoise grew silent, seeing someone approach. A guard opened the cell and stepped aside. From off to the left, a man in a suit stepped in, then the guard shut the gate behind the man and left. The gentleman, a properly dressed raccoon, adjusted his tie then nodded to the group. In a soft French dialect, he greeted them and said, "I'm detective Maris Johnson. I represent Law the way Oxford intended; I'll get right to the point, ma'am… gentlemen. I have dead bodies all over that rubble. It seems that most of them died from bullets or blowtorches. Some have bullet holes; others have cauterized gashes that cut right through their chests or other parts of their bodies. What the hell happened here?"
"Let me ask you this," Bentley began. "You're a raccoon; ever heard of Sly Cooper?"
The raccoon nodded slightly. "I have a report from Interpol that he was abducted and surfaced somewhere in the vicinity of this bank. Do you have a tie-in for that puzzle piece? The more clues you provide, the easier it is for me to do my job."
"Mister Johnson," Bentley started only to be interrupted by the man lifting his paw.
"Please, just Maris will do," the man said.
"Fine," Bentley grumbled, looking almost annoyed. "Detective Maris, I'm Bentley. This is Penelope and Murray. We're here to search for Sly Cooper because we're friends of his. When we tried to help him, we were attacked. The people who were attacking us then got attacked by another group of people. We ducked out of the line of fire and let them attack one another. Before you knew it, the whole bank was brought crashing down and we were lucky to survive."
"Listen to me," said Maris Johnson. "I've got a private property castle just outside of town and now a bank with a massive insurance claim. I am under stress from the government and from the building's superintendent to get to the bottom of this so that they can file their claims. I've got dead bodies in both buildings. The castle has a woman frozen in ice and the only survivor is a bubblegum chewing secretary who knows nothing. Now, I've got a bank full of dead bodies who died before the building collapsed. I have three survivors who also know nothing! I'm getting upset."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Bentley replied softly, staying relaxed in the face of the cop. "The people who attacked the bank were armed with energy weapons and high power guns that could have done the damage you described. I think they were trying to capitalize on the fact that someone had captured Sly Cooper. I would imagine that a renowned thief does have enemies in this country."
"What do you know of a small aircraft?" Maris asked, flicking his ringed tail in annoyance. "I have reports of a helicopter leaving the rooftop of this building, then some sort of metal airplane lifting out of the rubble from this building, shortly after the collapse. I have eye witnesses and I need more details."
This time, Penelope spoke up, saying, "A metal-fitted owl named Clockwerk left this bank."
"Clockwerk?" The detective snorted. "He's in pieces, which were rumored to be destroyed in the streets of France by someone working for Interpol. Now, what's really going on here?"
Bentley and Murray each slapped themselves in the forehead while Penelope simply sighed in frustration. "Are we under arrest, Detective Maris?" she asked.
Maris placed his paws on his hips. "You're being detained for up to twenty-four hours until I'm satisfied with your answers." He then looked from one to the other, his gaze panning from left to right and stopping on Penelope. "I have a lot of questions that are going unanswered. I have a lot of crap to clean up. I've got a lot of problems. Either you three are going to make my life easier by telling me what you know… or we're going to have problems. I'm tired, gentlemen," Johnson told them. "I spent seventy hours last week exhausting a case concerning a rumor that the Spear of Longinus was stolen only to find out that it never left the display case except for a short session with a cleaning and restoration company. Now I find two buildings leveled and I really don't want to work another seventy hour week, exhausting myself in regards to an unsolvable case."
"Listen bud," Murray bellowed, "It's like this. Sly got kidnapped so we came to rescue him. These goons at the castle employed goons at the bank to rebuild Clockwerk. Then a group of goons backstabbed the other group of goons in a power struggle over Sly and Clockwerk. Eventually their fighting brought down the castle then the bank. Okay?"
"So," Maris said, shaking his head. "Let me get this straight, all right? Two groups, vying for power, caused this with infighting and all the while, Clockwerk was being rebuilt and assassins were trying to kill Sly Cooper. In the end, two buildings were leveled and between the two, I've got four survivors who know squat?"
"You've got it!" Murray replied boisterously. "But we know more than squat! I just told you everything that happened, after all!"
Maris face-palmed, burying his muzzle into the center of his paw with a groan. "Get cozy, you three. This is your home for the next twenty-four hours."
Sire narrowed his eyes, clinching his fists out of frustration. His lips pursed, tightening as the rage boiled within his gut. The effeminate lion lifted a nearby mongoose by his throat, looking the man over for a moment. "So help me, if we cannot stop Clockwerk, everything is ruined. I want those artifacts and I want that metal moron deep six'ed!"
"Habla Espanol, no habla English!" The camouflage-dressed thug, from a group out of the Darien Gap hired by Sire, was released, quickly yet nervously returning to his position as a bodyguard. Sire began stalking the bridge of the third ship, his paws behind his back. "Someone will pay for this atrocity. I will not tolerate failure," he mumbled to himself. "Curse Steven's clone; that moron must have knowingly programmed Clockwerk to have freewill. I told that half-wit to make Clockwerk submissive to my will and to do as he was told. Now that stupid machine will ruin everything!"
Suddenly part of the windshield to the bridge was smashed. Carmelita Fox came in through the glass, feet first. A hang-glider became trapped in the window frame, ejecting her to the floor. She dropped into a loose roll, coming quickly to her feet with a gun in one paw. In her other, she held a small cylinder and a rectangular box, mashed together.
"You!" Sire shouted, turning to face her. Just as he was beginning to enable his powerful aura, Carmelita dropped the metal canister and rectangular box on the floor, purposefully keeping her eyes on it. The flash grenade exploded, blinding and deafening everyone in the room. Her plan was successful; she was blinded and deafened of his aura and could no longer be affected by it. She then raised her gun in the direction he was last seen then opened fire multiple times.
Equilibrium and balance were obtained mostly from a person's hearing. The blindness and deafness made it difficult to shoot straight but she continued to spray the pistol's ammunition until the magazine was empty. She then sprinted forward, only now seeing a blurry jumble of gray and a hazy brightness coming from the nearby windows.
She bolted forward, shouldering Sire to the ground. She nearly tripped over him but continued on, ambling towards the door. Her shoulder connected with the door to the balcony which opened with ease. She spilled out onto the corrugated metal ledge then continued onwards, crawling away from the bridge. She holstered the gun then used her paws to feel around until she located the rungs of a ladder.
Quickly wrapping her paws around the ladder, she began to descend it, still clinching her eyes shut every few seconds to try and expedite the effects of the flashbang grenade. Once her sight began to return to some semblance of normalcy, she glanced down at her shoulder and saw blood.
A smirk tugged at her lips, knowing that she must have lit Sire up with the handgun before shouldering him to the floor. Her paws loosened on the ladder and her feet moved to the sides. Carmelita's tail lifted and her weapon's vest began to lighten as wind filled the fabric. For a brief second, with a lack of hearing and blurry vision, she felt as though she were floating.
Her body began to slide vertically along the ladder until her feet hit the deck. Her knees bent, absorbing the impact into her toned legs. She dropped to her paws, kneeling directly in front of the ladder with a grunt. She took a moment to collect herself then bolted off, down the deck.
She stumbled about in an attempt to blink away the remaining blindness in her eyes but her hearing was only just beginning to return finally. Once her senses cleared up, her stumble-footed limp evolved into a sharp sprint, her tail floating in the wind behind herself. Her paws pumped up and down and her legs churned hard in a full run towards the cargo section.
The small rectangular box that she'd dropped on the bridge with the flash grenade detonated. The bridge exploded in a grand display of fire and yet she never looked back. The vixen continued to run as hard as she could. As soon as the explosion rang in her ears, she lifted her paws above her head, still running as fast as she could manage. Her eyes lowered for a split second, distracted by a dark shadow that came out of nowhere directly in front of her.
In an act of evasion, Carmelita dodged to the left. A section of the conning tower smashed into the ground just to the right of her. She never slowed her pace, racing for the cargo section at the aft end of the ship. Unlike the last two vessels, this ship didn't carry large metal containers in stacks. Instead, its cargo was accessible by means of an elevator at the back end of the ship that led down to the hold, below deck.
Another section of the bridge came slamming down into the deck, coming so close that it knocked her to the ground. From her momentum, she continued in a roll across the deck. Carmelita Fox came to a stop on her side, sat up quickly and got back to her feet, starting to run again. She had bruises on her arms and hip but because of her adrenaline, she felt completely unscathed.
Fiery metal debris rained from the sky. The shrapnel began to float down from above, much lighter than the heavy sections that had already come down from the explosion. She continued to run, lifting her arms back up over her head. She could see the maintenance elevator up ahead and charged for it. Tiny metal pieces rained down, clattering noisily over the deck.
Once she arrived at the platform, she mashed in the activation button and the large square section began to lower into the aft end of the ship. She ducked in the corner, staying low until the elevator made it to the bottom of the hold. Her eyes dilated, adjusting to the slightly dimmer artificial lighting. Carmelita removed her arms from her head and glanced down at herself with a frown. The fur of her left arm was matted down with her blood.
The Inspector glanced around for a moment then spied a sign on the wall. The infirmary was up ahead; she made her way towards it then, upon her approach, kicked the door in, drawing her unloaded weapon. Luckily, the infirmary was empty and she stepped in, re-holstering the weapon. Miss Fox put the duffle bag on an empty table and took out several magazines. Stuffing a few into her jacket, she replaced one of them into her weapon, without removing it from the holster, leaving the spent metal clip on the floor.
Next, Carmelita re-shouldered her bag and went for the first aid kit on a countertop. She took out the gauze, first aid spray, hydrogen peroxide and a roll of bandaging tape. The young woman carried the hydrogen peroxide over to a nearby sink and popped the top with her thumb. She then poured it over the cut on her arm, watching the white foam which quickly appeared. Giving it a few minutes to do its job, Carmelita kept her arm over the sink.
She then took a piece of gauze and dabbed the area dry, before spraying the first-aid solution onto the cut. It burned somewhat but she ignored the pain, beginning to wrap her arm in the bandage. She bit the bandage near the roll, once she had the desired length, then tucked and tied it down. It was obviously better that the shrapnel cut her arm rather than her head; she felt vindicated for having held her arms up above herself while running, earlier.
Once she had cleaned up her wound, Carmelita removed her weapon, holding it in her right paw, fetching her shock pistol from the duffle bag, drawing it into her left paw. "I hope that aristocratic thug is dead," she murmured, knowing that he probably wasn't. She left the infirmary only to be startled when the ship suddenly rocked to the side, teetering hard to port.
Sire struggled to sit up on the bridge. Entire sections of his left hip and abdomen were burned away with part of his right leg missing. It would take some time to regenerate his body and the pain was a dizzying cacophony of intense sensations that caused his very spine to tingle. The blast had eviscerated Sire, leaving him an ugly, scarred freak. It would heal eventually but for now, his incredible disfigurements would change the dynamics of his power.
Instead of radiating with incredible beauty and bringing legions of people to their knees, his aura would inspire the most intense hideousness that would cause a person to shrink in fear. His grotesque appearance caused the once effeminate lion to weep softly; it would take several days to return to his state of perfection. Living as a freak, even for a few days, would truly be hell for him. He knew it already.
Suddenly, the ship jerked to the side, tilting hard to port. The carcass of the mongoose guard slid across the deck, leaving a crimson trail in his wake. He crumpled against the far portside bulkhead, lying there in silence. Sire also began to slide a few feet across the deck. He pulled himself up by the steering wheel, balancing himself on his left leg as best as possible. With part of his left hip missing and nearly all of his right leg gone, he had trouble holding himself up.
His eyes peered over the controls and those soft, beautiful hues widened, nearly face to face with Clockwerk. "You miserable bastard, how dare you attack me?" Sire shouted through the empty window frame. Nearly all of the glass had disintegrated from the blast. The floor and deck down in front of the conning tower was sprinkled with a light dusting of glass particles but for the most part, there was nothing left save for the burnt rubber rails that used to be windshield wipers.
"I discovered your plot," Clockwerk roared. "My body belongs to me, you fool. One whelp already sought to integrate her body into mine and she got herself destroyed. She caused me to be completely defeated. That will never happen again. My body is a temple, you idiot."
"What are you talking about," Sire exclaimed. "I helped to finance your rebirth!"
Clockwerk's eyes shifted from dark orange to a burnt coloration of scarlet. "Just like you 'financed' Slick, Karla and my creator? And now they're all dead; imagine that! Slick informed me of what he'd learned by eavesdropping. He brought me a recording of your voice, Sire. You've always considered me to be your pawn. I am nobody's pawn! Steven conspired to kill me after using me as a tool to end your life! You conspired to have me rebuilt only to give my body to another! I killed Steven, leveled that bank and now I'VE COME FOR YOU!"
"Clockwerk!" Sire shouted, his voice sounded hoarse from injury and lack of breath. "If you challenge me, my followers will sweep across you and take you apart piece by piece! If you fight me, my legions of loyal, high ranking political contacts will nuke you, wherever you try to hide! They will bring a war to your front door, you moron! We're not enemies, stop trying to act as though we are!"
Clockwerk's eyes changed to a soft coloration of blue, still flapping in a controlled method to hover. His brain calculated the mathematical formula necessary to provide his body with the correct amount of lift so that he could use his wings to simply hover. Simultaniously, he used a public announcement built into his body to play back the recorded conversation between himself and the posthumous Slick Cooper. The Sire's voice, thin from the micro cassette that Slick had held, was projected into the open air. Sire could hear himself talking about his plans to destroy Steven, leave the clones as fodder once Karla produced a baby, then use Clockwerk's body as a host shell for a new and evil presence. Once the playback ended, Clockwerk's eyes shifted back to the dark coloration of red.
The metallic reborn owl, emotionless from the lack of a HateChip, simply gazed at Sire; no fear in his eyes, no callous grin… only a stern, stoic poker face. "Your purposefulness to me has run out," Clockwerk announced. He then brought his wings together, arching his back a bit. A massive metal feather sprang forth, penetrating the bridge and dicing through Sire's collarbone. The decapitated lion's head dropped to the floor and his body wavered, flopping away from the wheel, crumpling to the deck.
Clockwerk then fired a pulse canon; the round rushed in through the window and connected with something solid inside the bridge. Upon contact, the concentrated energy dispersed in all directions, leveling the entire top half of the conning tower. The intense explosion bested Carmelita's bomb by more than one thousand fold. Everything on the bridge was obliterated and most of the conning section was blown into metallic particles, some landing as far away as downtown Panama City.
Clockwerk then unleashed a mighty flap of his wings, rising up above the burning cinders of the cargo ship. It was time to find the biological version of Steven and finish this once and for all.
Carmelita had been joined by Sly Cooper during the topside diversion. The two stood side by side, looking triumphant. The third artifact was an untarnished golden scarab. It was the size of a fist and trumped the second artifact, a large topaz block, in terms of beauty.
"This would be too large for a broach," Carmelita said with a sigh and a shrug, rolling her shoulders just slightly. "Guess we'll have to destroy this, too. Too bad, so sad, bye-bye." Without warning, the ship rocked again, but this time the noise associated with the occurrence was a screeching sort of sound as if metal was being torn from metal. "What in the heck?" She quipped, tumbling into Sly's arms in reverse.
He quickly slid his paws beneath her arms, wrapping his paws around her tummy; her upper back and shoulders were flush to his chest. "I've gotcha," Sly told her, whispering his warm voice directly against her ears. "Relax. It's probably just…" He trailed off, his ears flickering. Carmelita's own ears perked up and they listened as a strange new sound joined the chaotic dissonance in the background.
The fox strained her ears, listening intently. "Something tells me that… we'd better…" Carmelita's voice quavered, still putting her attention into listening for the strange, growing noise.
"Run?" Sly added, tilting her back up to her feet.
"Yes!" She exclaimed, tearing off down the hall. The third artifact was stuffed into her duffle bag and the zipper was closed. The strap crossed over her shoulders, on the far side of her neck, so that it wouldn't be lost. Sly chased after her, running in the direction opposite of the roaring sound.
Carmelita headed for the elevator, but it was still over one hundred meters away. As they ran, Sly glanced over his shoulder, seeing a massive wall of water pursuing them. The powerful wave yawned at their heels, reaching out for them. Sly instinctively dove forward just as the water connected with his body. It pushed at his feet, projecting him forward. He sucked in a deep breath, becoming consumed by the powerful blast of water.
Carmelita was still running when it connected with her back. It threw her forward, coming flush to her backside and knocking the wind from her lungs. She tumbled forth, being thrown forward. Both of them were swept up in the powerful wave that carried them towards the elevator lift.
Carmelita struggled, feeling the pressure against her chest. She couldn't take a breath, even if she wanted to at this point. Her body felt sandwiched by the pure power of the water which whisked them forward and up, filtering them into the elevator shaft. The elevator platform was large enough to place several school busses, side by side, bumper to bumper. The water filled the shaft, forcing them both up but Carmelita couldn't draw air into her lungs and she felt her body beginning to sink between the weight of the duffle bag and her inability to take a breath.
She struggled but without a way to provide oxygen to her blood, her body was beginning to cramp up as well. She felt light headed and yet the warm water was dragging her downwards, back down the shaft once the current evened out. Her eyes fluttered, trying to stay open; she felt that she was beginning to surrender to the abyss, all too quickly. This wasn't how it was supposed to end…
A distant feeling swept across her hips, encircling them. Her eyes struggled to stay open but she couldn't see Sly and wondered if it was something just dragging her down. She tried to put logic to her thoughts but instead, she blacked out and all became calm. In the last seconds of her consciousness, she felt something clamp around her muzzle, leaving her to wonder if underwater debris had somehow trapped her; she had no rational ability, her mind squandered about for a moment before yielding to the nothingness.
"Why, Carmelita Montoya, I've never known you to capitulate." The voice was calm and intelligent. "I'm a third generation law enforcement officer! My grandfather was commissioner! You will stand up straight and take life by the horns, young lady!" It was a voice so familiar, but where was it in her every day life? She couldn't seem to place it.
"I can't do this on my own," she admitted to the void.
"It's about time you admitted that to yourself," came the reply; stern and yet stoic. An orangish creature faded into view before her eyes. She could make out a bit of a mustache then the smell of blueberries; a tobacco pipe that was incredibly associated with criminal investigation? It surly wasn't Sherlock Holmes. The voice continued, "You're always so self-sufficient. I guess I blame myself, young lady. Being a police officer means working as a team. You've got to trust your backup with your life if you want to live to see tomorrow. Working as a team, a unit, a group… it's the only way to have a fighting chance against crime or any other obstacle that presents itself to you."
There, standing before her, was the gentlemanly demeanor of her father. Inspector Fox of San Francisco California. The Inspector had risen through the ranks after leaving Latin America, then he brought his family to San Diego and eventually settled in San Francisco for a few years, while Carmelita went to school in Europe. He placed his paw against her face.
"Daddy, how are you here? How can I see you?" Her voice was full of concern, wondering upon her own fate.
"Young lady, I want you to learn three things," He said, releasing a puff of smoke from the corner of his muzzle. "One, you need to learn how to trust more. If you can't trust, you won't last. I trust your mother and I trust you. I trust my fellow officers and I trust my friends. Second of all, you must learn to open your heart; you always close back up when someone unintentionally hurts your affections. You can't go around feeling sorry for yourself as a single woman, for the rest of your life. Third, don't lie to yourself."
Carmelita tilted her head, not understanding the last one. "How am I lying to myself?" she asked, approaching her father slowly. He was the one man in her life that she trusted with her whole heart. She knew he would always be there for her and she knew that he was a good provider and full of advice.
Mister Fox just grinned, holding the pipe in his right paw much the same way Carmelita always held her reading glasses out to the side. "You'll see what I mean; go on, Carmelita Montoya… look for yourself. Open your eyes!"
Carmelita's eyes opened and she saw something gray but blurry directly before her nose. Something soft and comfortable was pressed against her lips and when she gasped, drawing in breath, the oxygen was there for her lungs. She was still submerged and her senses came to, making her realize that fact. However, she was still able to breathe. How was that possible? She continued to draw breath until her lungs were full.
The blurry gray object in her eyes was something she couldn't comprehend yet. The small metallic object around her waist was still there as well. Suddenly, her mind became clear with the life-saving breath of oxygen. Cooper's mouth was firmly pressed to her own and his cane was hooked about her dainty, hourglass hips. He'd swam down, going after her, and provided her with a breath of air. He used his cane to catch her before she sunk too far and was now lifting her back up the elevator shaft.
Her body was still limp but now that the sensation of having the wind knocked out of her lungs was passing, she instinctively took that first deep breath. Had Sly not been there to provide it, she would have instinctively inhaled water and drown. Not only had he saved her life again but he was there to rescue her from sinking as well. She didn't know what else to do; her arms simply coiled around his waist, allowing him to pull her body back towards the surface.
She kept her muzzle against his the entire time; once they broke the surface, both Sly and Carmelita gasped for fresh air. Mobility returned to her cramped muscles and she began to tread water. The water level continued to rise in the elevator shaft, bringing them closer and closer to the surface.
"We've got to hurry," Sly told her, after taking several deep breaths. "When this ship sinks in the Canal, the suction will pull us both down with it. When we reach the top, we'll have to run. Somehow, we'll make it over to the dock. Let me carry you; do you trust me?"
"Carry me?" she balked, still panting for the fresh air. "You carry me?"
"Carmelita Montoya," Sly said sternly, "I need you to learn to trust me."
She suddenly gasped, blinking at him with wide amber eyes. "What did you just call me?" Before he could answer, she added, "I'll trust you, Sly. Don't betray that trust, I don't give it freely. I… I don't know why but… I think a part of me, deep down, thinks that it's the right thing to do."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Sly with a firm nod. He then smiled at her and added, "I'm the only one of us who can walk across the mooring rope, so I'll need you to hold still when I'm carrying you. I've never carried someone while tight rope walking before."
"I…" Carmelita frowned. She wanted to tell him that she'd find her own way across to the dock but something inside of her still wanted to offer him the benefit of the doubt for some reason. She finally said, "I'll stay still; I trust you."
"I'm glad to hear it," Cooper replied. Just as the water became even with the topside deck, the large building at the center of the ship began to teeter forward. It crashed into the front of the ship, significantly shifting the weight. Water suddenly began to drain from the elevator shaft as the entire back end of the ship lifted into the sky. The stress at the center caused a massive crack to appear in the hull, further up towards the middle of the vessel.
Sly snagged the lip of the deck and, with his other paw, held tightly to his cane which still had Carmelita by the waist. The water continued to drop, leaving them hanging, suspended in air at the top of the elevator shaft. Falling would surly be lethal. "If you let me go, my ghost will arrest you, I swear it," she shouted up at him.
Cooper was far more serious for once. "Climb up my back, over my shoulders, and onto the deck. Quick!" Sly shouted. Carmelita did as she was told and began to climb over his body. She placed her paws upon his shoulders; her tummy and chest flush against his back. She then encircled his waist with her legs, trying to inch upwards.
"Didn't you do this to me once?" Carmelita asked, referring to the Australian outback, when she'd come across the Mask of Dark Earth (A/N: Sly 3 Game). "I guess it's time I returned the favor," she added, placing her elbows upon his shoulders and worming her way up over his back. Her knees were on either side of his upper torso now, just beneath his arms. Her belly was pressed against the back of his head. She then lifted her right leg and hooked it over his right shoulder then did the same with her left. She inched forward a bit more until she was literally sitting on top of his head. "Almost there," she told him, reaching her paws for the lip of the deck.
"If I wasn't starting to lose my grip, I'd really be enjoying this," Sly told her in return, lifting his other arm to try and hook his cane against the lip of the shaft's opening. Carmelita drew her knees up then placed her shins against his shoulders, shifting her weight until her feet were against his right bicep and his head. She pushed her body upwards, spilling over the side and onto the deck, panting madly.
Sly struggled further as the ship tilted higher and higher, until he was literally hanging from his cane in the open air. He then used his upper body strength to pull himself up over the lip until he was lying besides her. His panting joined hers in a chorus only for him to break into relieved laughter. She was equally elated but both knew that they had to hurry and get off the ship.
Suddenly a massive noise filled their ears as the crack in the hull continued all the way through the center of the ship. The aft section suddenly dropped, leaving them to cling to one another. It slammed into the water creating an enormous splash; the front end of the ship rolled forward and began to sink straight to the bottom. Sly cut his gaze over to the mooring rope that still ran down to the dock.
His gaze then cut across the deck to the view of the ship's seperated bow. All the ropes snapped and it continued on its short journey to the bottom of the Panama Canal. He stood up quickly, dipped his paw beneath her legs and his other paw beneath her shoulder blades and lifted her up. She reached for his cane and her duffle bag, pulling both up into her arms, leaving them to rest across her chest. He then carried her to the other end of the deck and stepped out onto the rope. "Still trust me?" asked Sly.
"I trust you. Hurry, Ringtail," she said in an eerily soft voice. "I believe in you; we can do this… together."
Sly nodded to her words and began to walk out onto the rope. Several feet out, he simply said, "With everything else that's happened, this rope should break at any second."
"If you jinx us," she snapped in a scolding voice. "Tell you what," Carmelita said, quickly changing her tone and her subject, "If you get us to safety I'll make it worth your while, comprende?"
"Si," Sly replied with a slight grin. He carefully made his way out across the rope, one foot in front of the other. The remainder of the ship was pulling against the rope, causing it to become firmer which made it easier to walk on. Sly picked up his pace just slightly, finally nearing the dock that ran alongside of the canal lock channel system.
"Almost there," she said, hope beginning to show in her voice. "This rope had better not break; it would be too cliché, the rope always freakin' breaks."
Sly was only a few feet from the dock now. He was careful, placing one foot in front of the other. The rope creaked softly, straining against the mooring clamp on the dock; the back end of the ship began to lower into the water. A bubbling spray was blasted into the air, causing a fine mist to moisten their already sodden clothes and fur. Carmelita clinched her arm around his neck and tightened her muscles, readying herself for anything.
Sly stepped onto the dock with a sudden sigh of relief and he kept on walking, holding her in his arms. "We made it!" he exclaimed, adding, "See, you can trust me! We're safe; we thought the rope would break because that sort of thing always happens and yet, here we are!"
"Sly, you've earned it," she told him, reaching up to his face and pulling his head down to meet hers. Her lips were firmly pressed to his own and she made sure it would be a kiss he wouldn't soon forget. Her toes curled, her tail fluttered and she practically swooned, pushing away the embarrassment of her blush.
Her paws tightened against his cheeks, deepening the kiss as passionately as she could offer. After a moment or two, she released his face and broke the lip lock. Her paw lifted, brushing away sodden indigo tendrils which framed her face in a mishmash of messy curls dripping with water. They partially obscured her face, giving her a coquettish look, which caused Sly to turn red. He grinned away the fact that he was blushing but there was no doubt that he was suddenly lighter on his feet after the kiss.
"After all," Carmelita told him, "I lost the bet, huh? Anyway, that's my way of thanking you for being chivalrous to me for once in your lifetime. The least I could do is put a little pep in your step."
Sly's grin melted into a broad smile as he carried the woman of his heart across the deck; behind them, the remainder of the third cargo ship sank within the canal; the ropes snapped and the entire aft section continued straight to the bottom. "Goodness, I should be a gentleman to you more often!"
"Don't get any ideas," she warned, adding a flirty wink. "I'm ...just ...in shock that I nearly died; I'll be my normal, nasty self tomorrow morning. I promise; it will all go back to the way things were."
"We can't stop just yet," Sly said to her. "Clockwerk is still at large and it's up to us to stop him. Then, when I'm totally sure that the dust cloud has settled… I'm going to make you wear my engagement ring."
"Oh, is that so?" Carmelita tilted her head and held a mock glare, cocking one eyebrow at him. "I've worked so long to catch you and all I had to do was tame you with a kiss? I thought it would be far harder than just one kiss."
"You know," Sly said with a thoughtful tone. "I think we've saved one another's life more times in the last few days than I can count."
Carmelita furrowed both brows now, just looking at him with a semi-amused smirk. "I thought all thieves were good at counting; how else could they know how much money they have?"
Jokingly, Sly Cooper yawned then told her, "If you're better at stealing then you are at counting, why bother?"
"If we do start dating again," Carmelita said slowly, drawing out the last word for a moment. She smirked, looked away from him, then said, "and if I catch you stealing during the relationship… I will lock you in the deepest, darkest cell on Earth. You won't even know what day of the week it is, Sly Cooper. Don't you forget it; I'll arrest you so fast, your head will spin."
"I remember," Sly replied, adding, "Unless it's stealing for Interpol or in a world-saving situation… I'm not allowed to do it. I heard you before; I do listen when you talk, Carmelita Fox. I know you may not think I do, but I never ignore you."
"Glad to hear it, Ringtail," she said, kicking her legs up and out of his arm. Her feet dropped to the dock and she stepped out of his arms. "For some reason, you're always more romantic in my mind than you are in real life. Why is that?"
"Who says I'm not romantic?" Sly asked, coming to follow suite, behind her. "And what do you mean by 'in your mind' Carmelita? Do you mean in your dreams?"
"Ha!" she scoffed. "Who says I dream about you? I was merely making a generalized statement, Cooper."
"I'll tell you what," Sly said, placing his paw against the small of her back as they walked. He reached into her arms and took his cane from her, leaving her with the duffle bag. "When this whole thing is over, I'll look you up and I'll romance your socks off and sweep you off your feet."
Carmelita gave him a sharp yet devious look. "Socks had better be the only things that come off, Sly Cooper. Some things are meant to wait until marriage, Mister."
Sly simply smiled as they continued on towards the parking lot in the general distance. "Are you really considering my offer to date again?"
"Again," she said in an aristocratic tone of voice. "I'm merely making a generalized statement, Cooper. So do us both a favor and behave." Her tone remained aloof and semi-detached but both knew that she was just acting.
"Oh, I'm behaving," Sly promised with a smile. "But if it makes you feel any better, I dream about you too. Now let's find Clockwerk and finish him off!"
"Good enough, let's hurry!" Carmelita said, increasing her pace. Sly hung back to rake his eyes over her feminine form with an inward smile then increased his own pace to follow her. All the while, Carmelita continued speaking. "The cruiser is this way; we have a lot of ground to cover and we've got to find out if Bentley and Penelope are okay; we'll need their help in figuring out how to stop that metal monstrosity." She then saw the look in his eyes when she left out one of the members of his gang. She then quickly added, "And Murray too. Let's go!"
A/N: Holy Strawberries, Batman, were they in a jam! Okay that was lame. So, like, was it action packed? I rewrote this dang chapter after being nearly 8 thousand words into it… All I had was dialogue and flirting! Dang! So I started over, fresh, with action worthy of this being considered a CLIMATIC CHAPTER! And I wrote the whole thing in a solid four to five hours of time; i just blazed through it. Heck, maybe closer to three or so hours. Anyway...
There are a few subtle hints in this chapter that lead in to what will happen in the SEQUEL. Not just the flirting but an actual plot hint. GASP! Yes, Sire is gone forever. The only one who remains is Steven (not the clone version). And remember, Steven's body is as mortal as can be… he simply used his 'genius' to disengage the 'aging' gene so that his body, instead of breaking down and showing signs of age, will continue to reproduce fresh healthy skin cells and all that yadda, so that he can simply live forever. All it takes to kill that weakling is a mere penknife.
At any rate, I'm glad you're all reading this; I hope everyone is enjoying it! The next chapter is THE VERY LAST CHAPTER OF THIS STORY! It ends with Chapter 30! We're finally done and it went on WAY longer than I'd originally intended! Thank you all for reading thusfar and THANK you for goading me on to keep going. I appreciate it!
This story has a lot of feedback, a lot of hits, a lot of words and a lot of …stuff! My next story will be equally as engaging in the realm of infinite possibilities but I won't have people dying and coming back through time to save themselves or any of that crazy paradox stuff that confuses everyone. No, my sequel will be a lot more "in your face" with straight up action, drama and romance.
I know, some of you are going "AW MA-A-AN! ROMANCE? WHAT THE HECK!" but it's going to be one heck of a dramatic rollercoaster ride that will test the boundaries of the heart in some respects. It's going to have powerful passion and moments of calming, tender love. Then it will be back to skull cracking and butt kicking. That's how I roll :D
See you at the next chapter! Wee!
-KIT