Training

Thetraining facility was located on the northern side of the River Seine, deprived of its view of the Tour Eiffel unlike the Interpol HQ. The facility included an obstacle course (properly named 'The Widow Maker'), swimming pool, shooting range, and other amenities required for readying one for law enforcement. Outside near the obstacle course, Sly had lined up amidst several other officers-in-training. Pacing back and forth along the line was a uniformed wolf.

"Alright wusses!" he demanded. "I am your trainer, and YOU WILL address me as Commander Hursh! When I'm through with you, you will have learned the tactics of Interpol, its regulars, its SWAT, its plainclothes, and its undercovers. Fail my class, and you WILL end up no better than Chief Inspector of Metro toilets. Screw up, and that unpleasant feeling you'll have will be my BOOT UP YOUR ASS!"

Sly couldn't help but snicker, which, to his dismay, attracted the Commander Hursh's attention.

"You find something funny 'coon?" Hursh asked sarcastically.

"No sir!" Sly replied.

"You look familiar boy," Hursh whispered.

"If we've met, I wouldn't know," Sly said. "I have amnesia. That's why I'm here, again…"

"An amnesiac, huh?" Hursh muttered in reply.

Hursh was silent for a moment, measuring this familiar raccoon out. Then after a moment, he shrugged went back to his post

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About a week later, Inspector Fox received first of Sly's weekly evaluations. She grinned, seeing as her 'experiment' was going well. But even she couldn't help but be surprised at how well he was doing. He was excelling in almost every filed. In fact, he was so far ahead, he was expected to take final tests with another class later that month, well over a year ahead. Looking down the transcript, there was nothing but good news. Knowledge of law: good, marksmanship: average; the list continued. She finally spotted something, her smile turning into a frown.

"I knew this was inevitable…" she sighed, picking up the phone and dialing a number. "Hello, Colonel Zietel, this is Inspector Carmelita M. Fox, I would like to set up a meeting with you, regarding a Sylvester Cooper's performance in your field…"

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Colonel Zietel was facility's swimming instructor. A veteran of many search and rescue missions involving Interpol and other agencies, he was the best man for the job. His office overlooked the swimming pool. There was a knock on the door and a blue haired vixen stepped in. He immediately knew she was Inspector Fox.

"Inspector Fox, pleasure to meet you," he said, holding out his hand.

Carmelita shook his hand and took a seat across from him. "I'm here about Cooper."

"Ah yes, Cooper," Zeitel sighed. "Can't forget him. Several of the ladies under another instructor were swooning over him. Fortunately for them, they weren't around to witness him sink faster than a rock You'd think a guy this good would be able to swim. So far, he's quite the challenge. But give me a couple of days with him and the guy'll be pulling off Olympic class crap."

"Then you get your 'couple' of days," Carmelita replied. "It's not like Interpol will be needing hims ASAP. It's been a pleasure, now goodbye…" She then headed for the door.

"Wait Inspector," Zietel spluttred. "Just where did you find this guy? Cause he seems familiar."

"I'd tell, but I'd probably have to kill you," Carmelita joked, closing the door behind her.

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Sly was ready for his final test. He and several other trainees were given special suits and guns modified to shoot blanks and fire a laser in place of the bullets. The suits would turn white where the laser hit them. Their assignment, take back an Airbus 380. The plane was donated for these situations. To him, this was a test of how sneaky he could be.

Entering through the landing gear well, he found himself in the avionics room. From there, he passed into the cargo hold, and carefully detached the metal grate to a ventilation shaft. From there, he was in the overhead compartment.

There were at least six 'gunmen' and one 'sleeper'. And from his perch above the second story passenger compartment, he had the drop on the three men up there. Those guys didn't know what hit them. Suddenly, he came busting out from the ceiling panels behind the three men. With almost precision accuracy, he managed to down them. That was the signal for the others to take out the others.

Slipping down the stairs, he saw that two of the others were down, taken by the sleeper, and a third was downed by a gunman, who had been taken out himself.

"Shit" Sly muttered, ducking behind a row of seats as he heard a gunshot. He was the last one left.

Carefully peering through a crack between the seats. He spotted his quarry. Jumping out and aiming, he learned hisrifle jammed. Dodging the sleeper's 'bullets' he leapt over two rows of seat and onto the gunman, sprawling them both out onto the aisle.

"Gotcha!" Sly said, holding his pistol to the guy's head.

He passed with flying colors.