Hey everyone, not many people have been reading my story LATELY. So I decided to add a new chapter to grasp more attention. Sooo…ta da, here is chapter two. And imagine this like the comics and cartoons; I always wanted Sly Cooper to be an animated TV show. Anyway, Wily and some of the villains were my creation. The rest fully belongs to Sucker Punch. This is for fun entertainment only. Anyway, I realised something says ago. Since the last game so far was made in 2005, that means Sly Cooper would be 28 in the fourth game. My point is Wily would be 23 in 2012, the year of the fourth game. Awesome! She's now the next Sly Cooper! Oh, and I just remembered that the gang did use ear pieces in some parts of the games, so don't get critical if I make Bentley's voice come out of an ear piece than the binocucom like in the first chapter. And if you hadn't already guessed, ONE of the inspirations for Wily is Daria Morgendorffer, so if Wily was in school: it would be like Daria in school. And sorry if it's a bit short by 2000 words, I was a bit busy. Remember not all of them will be 4000 words.

Chapter 2: Carmelita Car Chase

Wily brought herself back to her feet, groaning and rubbing her head. She seemed harmless enough, but that still didn't explain why she took the new and improved Clockwerk parts. Power? Immortality? Soon enough, she would have to tell me and my gang.

"Cooper? Is that you?" she began to say as she stirred, she continued to spoke when stood up, "My, oh my. You've grown, then again you were eight and I was three the last time I seen you. If I have my math right: if I'm sixteen, you're now…err…"

"Twenty-one," Bentley and I both sighed impatiently. Murray was still working it out with his fingers.

"Right, I knew. Really I did, I was just seeing everything you've done all these years was based on brains and not just dumb luck."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, 'cos adding five to sixteen is sooo brilliant." She tried to escape the van through the back, but I pinned Wily against the van's wall with my cane horizontally, "No need to run off so soon. You're our guest, why don't you sit down, have some snacks…and tell us why you stole the tail feathers?"

"What? Can't a girl pick up a fancy sovereign like Pocagawea's tiara?" Wily scoffed.

"Didn't you just say bimbos believe in that story?"

"Now why the hell would I-oh, I see what you're doing. Look, it'll be a long and sappy story if I explain. So if you don't mind letting me go so I could the 'short story' out of my back-pack. And frankly, I can't breathe with your cane against me."

I slowly pulled the cane off of her, but she didn't escape this time. Wily pulled her back-pack off and pulled out a video tape, who even uses video tapes these days? She took in greedy gasps of air and I placed the tape into our old VCR connected to an even older TV set across from the computer and webcam. The screen was brought to life and the video began playing. While all Bentley, Murray and I did was gaze at the screen, Wily turned away. I kept hearing her holding back sniffles and sobs during the whole footage.

Which contained a blurry silhouette in a dimly lit room, the silhouette spoke with an electronically disguised voice, "Good evening, Miss Cheshire. As a polite citizen of high class society, I must apologise for kidnapping your father. But if I told you what I wanted your expertise for WITHOUT holding your 'Pop' hostage, you would've said no…or give me a wet willy…most likely the wet willy thing. Anyway, I want the Clockwerk parts. I bet you have a confused face right now, you would be thinking 'But the Hate Chip was destroyed and the parts are rusted'. Well, some mad scientist has improved the parts and recreated the Hate Chip, and the Cutthroat Crew stole them. Lawrence Heinous, the crew's own hitman and archaeology expert, has the Clockwerk tail feathers; they're in his auction house. It's now up to you to work out the rest of the Intel for your plan and steal those feathers. Once you have the feathers, await for another briefing tape on the next target. You better have all the parts in four weeks, Wylleighina, or else your daddy will be in his own parts."

The silhouette directed the camera to today's Tom Cheshire on the floor: badly bruised, burnt marks, and full of large cuts. He groaned in pain, "Wily, don't steal the Clockwerk parts. I'll be fine, just DON'T do it. You and I are not going to betray my best fr-"

The silhouette pulled the camera back to his blurred face, interrupting Tom, "Blah blah blah. No more talking for you, Tommy. I'm just going to be very straightforward with this, Wylleighina: Four weeks. Steal the parts or your dad dies."

And the video stopped there. No wonder Wily was upset, was concerned and asked, "When was your dad taken?"

She wiped her tears away and exhaled, "A few days ago. Straight after the Avarice Job."

"Oo! Oo! I heard of the Avarice job!" Murray put his hand up excitedly like a school boy.

"Indeed, so have I," Bentley grumbled much less enthusiastically, "If we went to steal from Avarice instead of you and your dad, we would've had a much better plan! You and your dad's plan was so simple and dim-witted. I mean, really, all you did was sneak into the party, pretend to be unconscious so you could suck in Avarice's saliva, tell the guards that there's ice-cream so you could have the uniforms, spat the saliva onto the scanners, plant bombs into the vault and painting room, pretend to be guards to be given PERMISSION to take the paintings and the money while the rooms are on fire."

"Yes, Bentley. We're idiots and you're not jealous." Wily dryly uttered, Bentley didn't reply and only glowered at her in silence.

She turned her head around to face me with a new honest and melancholic expression, "Please, Sly. Let me have the tail feathers. We're god-siblings to each other…so that would mean pointless god-sibling rivalry. But that's not the point, the point is Pop is my family. Sure, Pop and I treat each other like adults instead of a typical father and daughter relationship where the dad reads newspapers and eats a lot, and where the daughter whines, sneaks out of the house to go on dates, and use up her daddy's entire credit card account for needless clothes which she thinks will make her beautiful, but only made her tacky. Sure, we insult each other in a cleverly and witty mature way as crime partners. But he's my best friend and, more importantly, he's all I have."

Looking down in her miserable yellow eyes and diamond pupils with soaked tear-lines down her furry cheeks, I began to have empathy of what she must be feeling. The humongous feeling I possessed when I was eight, the moment I witnessed my parents' murder. It's like you've been filled up with sudden monstrous anger, the need to cry, and what felt like eternal grief. But then I realised she must've felt the same way before, when her mum passed away. Plus, her dad was only taken…meaning she may have a chance to not really feel the true emotion of how she and I felt again. Right then, I made a grave decision: I must not leave Wily orphaned by helping get her dad back.

"Wily, how about this? We do get the Clockwerk parts, but once we have them all. This silhouette guy will probably tell us his location; we'll go to there to rescue your dad instead of giving away the parts." I offered a plan.

Wily glowered at me in the same expression as Bentley did to her, except she wouldn't shut up, "No."

"No? Why?"

"That plan is terrible."

"How is it terrible?"

"I have to work with you."

"Huh?"

"I only work with professionals."

"Harsh."

"I'm not a nice little girl."

Before the endless 'god-sibling rivalry' could continue, it ended as we all heard real police sirens, and a familiar American/Italian sensuous voice, "Come out with your hands up, Cooper! I know you're in there!"

"Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox," Her name was music to my ears, "I knew she would come around eventually."

Wily raised her eyebrow, "You're saying that like it's a good thing."

"Don't ask." Both Murray and Bentley moaned.

Murray, Wily, and I peeped through the back doors' windows. There she was, in front of the army of loud police cars was the gorgeous Carmelita, her long dark extra-fur in curls with the end braided, silky against the rest of her orange fur, she wore her typical black top, pants, brown boots and jacket. Her amber eyes, red lips, and fluffy tail were full of fury at the sight of me, showing her badge. She was quite the fox…literally. To be frank, I think all she is around me is furious.

"Come on, Carmelita. Can't I gaze upon your stunning looks from this angle inside the van?" I smoothly complimented, it was predictable she was still angry.

Bentley was panicking, no doubt worrying everyone near him at the hospital, "Go, Murray! Drive now! Drive now!"

"Drive what?" Murray grinned cheekily.

"Drive PLEASE!"

"Thank you." He innocently said and started the engine.

Murray drove the stick-shift van into reverse; Carmelita leapt onto her motorcycle and quickly drove metres away before the van rampaged through the police cars and onto the road. All the policemen came out of the cars, surprised by what just happened. But Carmelita was right behind us, the van swayed forward, passing all the cars left and right, and Carmelita followed us every time.

"WE'RE GOING TO GET CAUGHT! WE'RE GOING TO GET CAUGHT!" Bentley hyperventilated as loudly as he could.

"Again, Bentley: you're in the hospital, you won't get caught." I reminded him.

"Oh, well that was mortifying."

Wily snickered, "And you kept saying I'M dumb."

Bentley glowered at her in silence again.

As Murray kept driving, I heard Bentley whisper to me, "Psst. Sly, a word?" I went closer to the computer and Bentley continued in a quiet tone, "I'm not quite sure we should help Wylleighina or even trust her. Maybe it's all a deception to get all the Clockwerk parts. May I need to remind you of Neyla…Clock-La?"

"Okay, okay. But we're family…sort of."

"The last time you saw her, she was a toddler. A lot can happen in thirteen years."

"Um…guys," Murray gulped, "The Murray heard something on the roof."

Wily and I saw through the back windows only a motorcycle on autopilot and no Carmelita. It was really obvious of where she was, especially when there was suddenly a hole in a ceiling, caused by a shock shot.

Carmelita looked down the hole, about to threaten us…until she spotted Wily, "Well, well, well, Wylleighina Cheshire: daug-"

"I heard it all before, Inspector Fox," Wily groaned, "Co-con genius, right hand man, and daughter of con genius/thief extraordinaire Thomas Cheshire. Blah, blah, blah."

"Are you working for the Cooper gang?"

"No. And if I were, it certainly wouldn't be some unpaid internship: I would be getting paid three million dollars every week…plus tutor Bentley in heist planning."

"HEY!" Bentley's voice shouted through the computer speakers.

I didn't know why, but Carmelita was a little sincere towards Wily…a little bit, she wasn't THAT sincere, "Wily…can I call you that?...you're young, really young. You still have a chance to quit the life of crime and have a normal life of a teenage school girl."

"You want me to live a life of in high school where there's a tacky cheerleader alpha posse who think they're all that who would look down at me even though I wouldn't really care, the rest of the girl students crushing on an idiot jock who's more muscles, looks, and egos than brains, everyone put into cliques where the most intelligent yet anti-social and actually cool punks are bullied by cheesy and painfully terrible 'burns' by the alpha girl posse and locker shoves by the jocks, and everyone worried about what to wear to the 'amazing dance' rather than really being yourself? I have one word for that corny torture chamber of no adventure or no intelligence…well; it's more of a sound than a word." Wily blabbered on and on, before finally making a raspberry tongue sound, "Did you really think I am or would ever become one of those wimpy sheep girls? No offence to sheep."

"Okay, back to the drawing board," Carmelita aimed her shock pistol at all of us through the hole, "Hands us where I can see them!"

Only Bentley held his arms up high, whimpering away. But then he realised in a few second he was still in the hospital and quickly pulled them back down.

"Wait…the drawing board? So there was more to your plan than shouting and shooting?"

"Nope."

"Oh, so shouting and shooting was your plan…that plan sucks!"

I chuckled, "I have to admit, that's all she ever does."

"I'll take care of her. I can fit through that hole."

"Can you fight?"

"Nah, I'm actually a huge klutz. I can a little, but I believe deception is needed to get her off us."

I knew Wily would act like a total Mary-sue if she gone up there to 'take care' of Carmelita and win, but I was too big for that hole and from what I heard, she didn't fight at all.

"Hey, Carmy." Wily leaned onto Carmelita's gun, the fox's arm stretched out as she was aiming at nothing.

"Don't call me 'Carmy'." She said grimly.

"Right, sorry, Inspector. How about I cut you a deal? How about I give you the Cooper gang and you let me go?"

Bentley shouted once again, "I knew it! I knew she couldn't be trusted!"

Surprisingly, Carmelita didn't hear that, "No. I want BOTH of you in jail. What makes you think I would let you go? Your age? Your reputation? Your charisma?"

Wily shrugged, "That, and that I have your gun."

"What?"

Wily's tail held up Carmelita's shock pistol, "It's amazing what distraction and a flexible tail can do." Then she made her tail press the trigger and shot at Carmelita's motorcycle, "I recommend a taxi."

Wily jumped into the hole and Murray steered sharply around a round-about, accidentally forcing Carmelita to slip off the van's roof and into the harbour nearby.

"So, can we help you get your dad back?" I asked, her dad was my god-dad so I felt I should help.

"Alright," Wily sighed reluctantly, "But I think I'm really helping you. Now, I'm going to need three million dollars every week and tutor Bentley in heist planning."

"Sly," Bentley said flatly, "Whack her with your cane again."