Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

Paris, France

8:31 am

"…and, that's basically it in a nutshell." Sly said as he finished explaining his story to an all but motionless Carmelita.

The vixen simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her face emotionless. Sly knew he could wait. And he did. 10 minutes, half an hour, an hour. The time rolled by until it had finally been two hours and Carmelita still hadn't said anything.

Just when Sly was about to call Bentley in, she finally said, in barely more than a whisper, "So, all those times we watched the news…about the rest of your gang…and you always wanted to know why they stole things…it was…an act?"

Sly nodded, not knowing where this was going.

"And…you gave up your…your freedom…just to be with me?" She looked up at him, confusion written all over her face.

"Why?"

It was that simple word that got Sly from first sitting, dumbstruck, to chuckling, then chortling, and finally, full out, lung bursting laughing. Carmelita got angrier and angrier until she finally slapped him with her good hand, and he stopped at once.

"Answer the question Cooper!" she snarled.

Sly put on a serious face, looked her straight in the eye, and said "Do I really have to say the most obvious thing?"

Carmelita, slightly confused, faltered, looking him straight in the eye. All she could see was hurt. And that's when she realized that he was telling the truth. He HAD indeed lied to be with her; why? Because, even though he had flirted often when she chased him, he had never taken the next step, and he considered himself a coward for that, when he was trying to protect her, because…because he really did care. Although he had lied to her, pretended to have amnesia, and even gone out of his way to not talk about anything from his past, he was still the world's most wanted thief, and as long as he was out in the public eye, they could never be together. So, although he'd had very little time to think about it, his feelings for her obviously meant more to him than his freedom of being a thief. And just that little thought madethe vixenchange her whole attitude.

Slowly, Carmelita reached her uninjured hand up, gripped the collar of Sly's shirt, and, after a moment's wait, yanked him down into a warm, passionate kiss. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she didn't know why, until she realized that Sly was crying too. And for a moment, the world dissolved around them, and they were not an officer and a thief; instead, they were simply two souls drowning in love. And that's all that they both wanted.

Outside

10:43 am

Marty huffed in the morning air, pulling his wool lined leather jacket around him as he watched the warm vapors of his breath float past his lips and up into the morning air as he set off towards a café that was close by. He'd slipped out the backdoor to get something to eat, since he hadn't had a meal since he left Naples, almost a week ago. He had a suspicion as to what Sly had wanted them out for, but couldn't really understand the subject itself; love. Love meant nothing to him. Friendship didn't even mean anything to him. Julio and Mikhail were partners, nothing more. Sure they'd stuck through a lot over the years, but they were simply with him for the money and thrill. As soon as Don Taloreso was dead, he'd split the money they had, then go off and start his life anew in America. A new name, a new identity, and a clean start. Sure, he hated Americans, but he didn't have to act like one, did he?

He looked up, seeing a sign that read Le Petite Appetite. Rolling his eyes at the obvious lack of creativity, he opened the door and stepped in. All he needed was a doughnut and a cup of coffee, and he'd head back to the safe house. Walking up to the counter, he ordered them in broken French, then sat down in the corner, feeling the snub-nosed revolver in his back pocket begin to create an imprint in his rear, as it did every time he sat down. He wouldn't be surprised if he just woke up one morning with a pistol-shaped scar on his ass.

Meanwhile

2 blocks away

Caroline parked her car, a used Jeep that she'd bought from a shabby salesmen, and started walking towards the café. She'd always preferred walking. She never went to the gym, but always managed to keep in shape, nonetheless. It was her break time, and she was looking for a small snack. A doughnut and some coffee were all she would need to get back up into the game again.

Caroline broke into a jog, heading towards Le Petite Appetite. It wasn't really her idea of a gourmet restaurant, but it was good enough for something on the fly.

Upon reaching the door, she swung it open, and would've gone through her usual routine of ordering coffee and a doughnut, then sitting at a table that was almost always unoccupied over in the corner, except…except that someone else was already sitting there.

Someone she recognized.

And not just by walking around town.

The horse that was sitting at her table, obviously waiting for his own order, was none other than Marty McCoy, leader of the ruthless, gun-packing McCoy Gang. There were at least ten wanted posters for him up on the walls of all the Interpol offices, or so she'd been told. Her first instinct was to go for her gun, until she remembered that, being on break, she had left her shock pistol back at the station. After a second or two, she realized that this might be better; if she could befriend him somehow, she might also get him to reveal where his next job was going to be; she could also follow him back to his hideout. The options were unlimited, depending on how she played her cards.

Walking up to the counter to give herself time to think, she ordered her coffee and doughnut, then walked into the middle of the café and weighed her options. Finally, she made her move.

Marty looked up to see something he never thought he'd see; a slightly attractive-at least, in his opinion she was-Black Labrador standing right next to the table, looking at him with a strange expression on her face. It was as if she was a predator, studying her prey. She was absentmindedly playing with her hair, wrapping one golden lock around her finger. He quickly caught himself before his eyes could roll down her body. He was not a pervert; however, that was more than he could say for Julio.

In order to dispel any tension or curiosity that was waving between them, he cleared his throat and said, in his toughest and most intimidating voice, "Can I help you?"

Caroline noticed his eyes, hard and gleaming, obviously trying to both get her to go away and find out what she was up to. His mouth was set in a firm line, but she could tell that his teeth were clenched. It must've taken him a lot of will power not to try and look her over.As far as she knew, McCoy had never had a romantic interest, and the brief histories of the rest of his gang proved he was a down to dirt tough guy who didn't like to waste time. Obviously, he felt that romance WAS a waste of time.

She smiled slightly and said "Yes, I'd just like to let you know that you're sitting in my usual spot. I don't mean to be rude, or anything, I'm just letting you know."

Marty frowned, grunted, and said "You come here often?"

Good lord, was he flirting with her?

She blushed slightly, but to cover it she said "Yes, it's the only café closest to my work that doesn't do highway robbery."

Marty grunted again and said "I'm surprised even the employees come back."

She giggled, not realizing it until it was too late. Oh, great, now he was telling jokes.

Marty was slightly surprised when she laughed. He hadn't meant for it to be funny at all. Just something to get suspicions off him, whatever they were.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he motioned to the other chair and said "Sit down. I'm not going to be very long."

A surprised expression crept up the canine's face, but she pulled the chair back nonetheless and took a seat. For a minute or two, neither spoke, just studied each other. Unfortunately for Marty, his eyes danced down her throat before he could stop himself, and he found himself looking at her chest, where the top button was open and there was a slight amount of cleavage…whipping his eyes back up to hers, he suddenly found himself lost in her eyes. They were so deep, full of curiosity. If he could have, at that moment, he would've banged his head against the window next to him to get rid of the thoughts he was thinking, but that would've frightened the girl. He seriously considered it after that last thought crossed his mind.

Caroline had to say that McCoy was obviously in good condition. His jacket was open and she could see his muscles through his white tank top. He obviously knew how to take care of himself. Then again, Murray Green was fat and still muscular.

Before she could stop herself, she thought 'Hmm…I definantly approve…Oh bloody hell! What am I thinking! Approve of what?'

Neither one spoke until Caroline extended her hand and said "I'm Caroline."

Marty slowly grasped her hand with his own and simply said "Marty."

Caroline's eyebrows went up and she said "Marty? Are you related to Marty McCoy, by any chance?"

Marty was perfect in timing as he smiled and said "I've been asked that a lot. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say it again; no, I'm not. McCoy's Italian, I'm from New York."

His accent certainly sounded New York. Could she have made a mistake?

Then she heard his cell phone go off. He quickly whipped it out, checked the caller ID with the screen facing away from her, and opened the phone, saying "What?"

He was quiet for a moment, while Caroline listened intently. Finally, she picked up on first a Hispanic accent, then a nasally one coming from the phone's small speakers.

Score. She had her man alright.

McCoy then said "Alright, don't worry, I'll be there."

As he hung up his phone, a waiter came up with two cups of coffee and two doughnuts. Marty took his and gulped down the hot liquid while Caroline nibbled thoughtfully on her doughnut, watching as he finished swallowing and set the empty mug down with a clank, then stuffed the whole doughnut in his mouth, chewed for a few seconds, then swallowed, rubbed his throat, then stood up, taking his peasant's cap off and inclining his head slightly towards her.

"It was nice meeting you Caroline," McCoy said, slapping his peasant's cap back onto his head. "But I really need to go."

She watched him gotowards then out the doorwith only one thought, but that thought greatly disturbed her; 'Nice arse.'

She blinked, then smacked her head and muttered "No, bad Caroline, bad."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finished her coffee and doughnut quickly, then left after McCoy. As soon as she got out the door, she looked either way and spotted him hurrying away down the street, away from where her car was parked. With a smirk, she set off after him, careful not to make too much noise.

Marty was running away from a cop, he was sure of it. Why else whould she have given him that look, or asked those questions? He dodged down a side alley, taking the long route back to the safe house, unaware of the shadow stalking him. And she was unaware of the shadow stalking HER.