The Battle: Part I
The Krak-Karov Volcano, Russia; Tuesday, June 14, 10:29 P.M…
Hans stood by, about a dozen yards from the Second Clockwerk, watching as his superior's mouth moved so frantically, with the occasional pumping of a fist, or swiping of his arm, or slamming of a fist into an open palm. He moved so energetically, and probably spoke so powerfully and charismatically. Even if he didn't hear a single word of what he spoke, he knew that his master's words were surely inspirational. The entire time, he was standing on the back of the Second Clockwerk, with a hatch in the top wide open and ready for him to enter.
Finally, when his master had finished speaking, he turned and climbed down into the open hatch. For about two minutes, there was absolutely nothing. No movement, no vibrations. Then the hatch on top slid closed. Then there was a low hum. It started low, barely a tremor in Hans' feet. Then it grew larger and harder and deeper, reverberating throughout all of Hans' body, and all throughout the hangar, vibrating the metal walls and the bodies of all other men in the hangar.
Then the two massive yellow eyes lit up, becoming even brighter and more piercing, as if staring straight through your soul. Both cast two twin beams of blinding light, which shot out over the ranks of men and through the open hangar door, like two spotlights.
The hum grew louder still. Then the talons slowly extended, pushing up higher and higher to lift the main bulk of the body off of the hangar floor. The wings, still drooping down over the floor, slowly started to move. Like a ripple, the movement shot down from the base of the wings all the way down to the wingtips. Both wings slowly lifted up, flapping lightly and weakly, before settling back down again.
The hum was extraordinarily loud now, and he could almost see the walls shaking right down to their foundations. The Clockwerk slowly started to take life. A grin spread across his face.
Then there was a sudden flicker of movement at the corner of Hans' eye, separate from the wings flapping. Turning his head ever so slightly, the grin suddenly vanished when he saw a shape disappear behind the right wing, just beyond the massive platoon standing on his left. After a moment, he could see the figure emerge again briefly on top of the wing. It started advancing towards the body of Clockwerk just as it slowly started to lift off, the engines now moving in a steady hum, not audible to Hans, but a steady vibration that he could feel reverberating through his body and throughout the hangar.
It wasn't an immediately recognizable figure, and it wasn't immediately clear what it was. To someone with an average eye, it wouldn't have even registered. No one else seemed to notice it. But Hans, with his exceptional vision to make up for his loss of hearing, could just barely see it. It appeared to be semi-invisible, whatever it was. It was a patch of empty space that seemed to take shape, that seemed to move, the only clear thing that made it appear out of the ordinary being a slight outline that seemed to bend between what was really there and whatever the shape was. As the semi-invisible figure advanced up the wing, Hans could now make out the entire outline, the exact shape of the figure. Most prominently, he recognized the long, bushy tail waving behind it, and the long, familiar hook-shaped object, also semi-invisible, in its hand.
The first thought that shot through Hans' mind was summarized into one word.
Impossible.
His intellect and pride told him that it couldn't be. There was no way. He had gone down the waste disposal chute, into the molten lava. There was no way. No way at all…
But his instinct told him that he wasn't just seeing things. He trusted his eyes just as much as he trusted his senses of feeling and smelling.
He instantly advanced towards the wing, moving swiftly as it started to lift up, and brushing past guards who remained firmly at attention. Just as it swooped down in a wave motion for the first time, Hans leapt up onto it as the tip was on the ground again. He wavered briefly as it rose up again in another flapping motion, but ultimately found his footing and slowly advanced across the massive wing, towards the figure that was now directly on Clockwerk's back. Hans barely faltered, even when the entire frame of the machine lifted up and became free of gravity, slowly rising majestically into the air. He looked down and saw all of the soldiers, still standing rigidly at attention and now saluting as the massive machine rose into the air.
There was a pause. Hans braced himself by crouching down on all fours and firmly gripping the ridges in the wing, preparing for the fast take-off. Even his steel grip barely managed to hang on as the massive bird flew right through the open door. The great machine flew out into the night sky, leaving the hangar behind, and rising up and moving further and further above the massive facility. Hans slowly stood up.
Suddenly, there was a massive orange blast to his left, just at the edge of his periphery. At the same time, there was a low rumbling that, although he could not hear it and although it was far below him, shook his whole body, reverberating clearly in and around him, the sheer force of it amazing. Curious, he briefly turned his attention away from the figure and looked down, behind and below the Second Clockwerk. He saw the entire hangar that they had just left behind be completely engulfed by flames, with the already-planted explosives at all four corners of the building's foundations going off simultaneously with a signal set off by the Clockwerk's departure through the door.
The blasts of orange spread out a considerable length, almost completely consuming the entire base of the building. As expected, the explosions at all four corners disrupted the building's stability, blowing out all pillars supporting it and weakening the metal walls. As planned, the entire portion of the building above the area destroyed by the explosions started to come straight down in a manner reminiscent of a controlled demolition. It came down fast, crushing the already-weakened areas at and below the blast radius. As it came down, it became even weaker, falling apart and crumbling in on itself, all of the debris tumbling straight down within the already-burning remains of the building. The roof was the last to go, crumbling in towards the center of the building and falling inward like all of the other debris.
The entire time, not a single guard or scientist within the building escaped, and the explosions, the fires, and falling debris ensured that none of them survived.
He had never seen anything like it before. He didn't understand it for a moment. Then he realized. His master must have been planning this. He must have planned to kill all of the men once they were all inside the hangar, and that would've included him. After all, those explosions certainly were not coincidental. He knew a controlled demolition when he saw one. He realized now how lucky he was. Had he not seen the mysterious figure and climbed up onto the wing…
He then remembered the figure. He looked back at the back of the Clockwerk. For now, all he could do was exterminate the intruder. Then, perhaps, he could get the attention of the Commander inside the Clockwerk, and perhaps get him to let him in. Then his so-called master would pay for his intended betrayal. After all that Hans had done for him, being unquestionably loyal, always dutiful, and looking up to his leader with admiration and respect…Oh, yes. He would pay.
He returned his attention to the person who was now on his hands and knees on the back of the mighty Clockwerk, barely holding on as he attempted to find a way in. Hans stopped a few feet away, looking down at the small raccoon. He had his Cane in his hand, the bright golden hook at the end jammed into the crack between the hatch and the rest of the frame as he attempted to force it open.
Then, there was another brilliant flash out of Hans' periphery. He turned once more, but not before noticing as the figure also looked in the direction of the flash, turning his back completely to Hans.
The massive mouth of the Clockwerk was wide open, and a large ball of bright blue and white light had formed inside the mouth. Now that ball was emitting a single long beam, which was aimed down at the burning remains of the hangar. Both men watched as the beam shot straight down and impacted into the ground directly in the middle of the burning foundation. Upon the beam's contact with the ground, a second explosion ensued, this one much brighter and forcing Hans to wince and raise a hand to cover his view of the explosion. The ball of white light rapidly grew and spread out in all directions, enveloping the remains for a second time in a much more thorough explosion. The force of this one was even greater than the previous one, and Hans could feel the powerful vibration rattle his body, even causing him to stumble to the side. The crouched figure on the Clockwerk's back was also stunned, and fell to the side. Hans, seeing this, took full advantage of this opportunity and charged at the figure.
With a grin, he delivered a swift kick to the raccoon, who never even saw it coming.
The first thing that Sly felt was the sudden rush of wind from his gut as something powerful slammed him in the stomach and knocked him to the side. He rolled over along the sleek metal back, coming to a stop a few feet from the joints between the body and the left wing. After a brief coughing fit, he glanced up at his attacker, who wore a cocky grin as he looked down at him. Sly could conclude, from the sharpness and firmness of the blow, that those boots were steel-toed.
Sly immediately started to scramble to his feet, only for the boot to swipe him again, this time connecting with his jaw. Sly flew to the left and slid down even more, now finding himself barely touching the joints connecting the wing to the torso, most prominently the single long shaft that rotated up and down as the wings flapped. Sly instantly scurried back, then raised his fist as he spun around.
The coyote reached down and simply grabbed his fist before he could hit him. With unbelievable strength, he lifted Sly right up off of his knees and level to his face. With his free hand, he delivered two sharp blows to Sly's stomach before instantly swirling around to throw him down onto the wing. Sly landed hard on his back, groaning. Before he had time to react, he could feel his whole body rising and falling as the wing flapped up and down beneath him. He could barely stay on the cold metal, feeling for the ridges in the wings for a good grip. He glanced over at his opponent, standing on the relative safety and stability of Clockwerk's back.
Sly rolled over when the wing hit the bottom of its movement, quickly feeling for another ridge as he was now lying on his stomach. He waited through the next two flaps, then stood up again. He stumbled briefly, still stinging from the pain of the last few blows. He hadn't been in such an intense physical confrontation quite like this in four years. He spread his legs slightly and stiffened them, maintaining a firm battle stance. The attacker raised his fists in a similar stance.
Sly instantly leapt off the wing, jumping towards the attacker in a sudden pounce. Hans had to raise his arms to grab Sly as he flung his whole body at him. Sly instantly swung his fist at the man's face once, striking him in the cheek. He tried again, but Hans, with a firm grip on his sides, simply spun him around like a baton, bringing him down and slamming him onto the cold metal surface once more.
This time, Sly was more prepared. As he lied on his back, he instantly spun himself around, swinging his leg out and hitting the man's leg. He hooked his foot behind the man's knee and pulled, yanking his leg out from under him. Hans slipped backwards and landed on his back. Sly jumped to his feet and ran over to where his cane was still lodged firmly in place. Snatching it up, he raised it in an offensive position, almost like a baseball bat, before he swung straight down and brought the hook down on the man's gut once, then again. The third hit was directed at his face. The coyote rolled onto his side, howling in pain. Sly raised the cane again for a fourth blow.
Suddenly, Hans kicked his legs out and knocked Sly's legs out from under him as well. Sly tumbled and hit the metal again, barely holding onto his cane. Then he felt two powerful hands grab him by the shirt and lift him up, then slamming him down again. He felt the boot kick him in the side, sending a splitting pain through his ribcage.
As Hans raised his boot again, Sly rolled off to the side, and the boot swung up into the air. Sly instantly swung his cane up and hooked his boot. Sly leapt to his feet while Hans struggled to get his boot out, only for the steel-toed tip to be stuck on the hook of Sly's cane. Taking advantage of this, Sly instantly raised the cane up as high as he could, lifting Hans' leg up more than he could handle. The large man instantly fell backwards, his boot finally freeing itself from Sly's cane. Sly swung his cane down again, bringing it down onto his lower stomach three times. Hans scrambled to his feet, even despite a swift blow to the side, and crawled out onto the wild and unstable wing once more. He stood and turned back to Sly, raising his fists once more, his grin daring Sly to come after him.
Sly glanced back at the hatch he had been attempting to pry open, then back at Hans. He knew that he could never get in with this guy on his back. So, against his inner will, he started out onto the wing.
Sly took a moment to adjust to the instability once more before he advanced again towards Hans, cane raised.
Hans charged forward and unleashed a wild spinning kick. Sly ducked and shot his fist forward, hitting the man's stomach. Hans instantly clamped down on Sly's fist with both hands. Sly simply used his other hand, holding his cane, to strike him in the chest twice. The sudden blows winded Hans, who released Sly's hand instantly. Sly then pulled out one of his old tricks: A smoke bomb. Raising it high, he brought it down and threw it against the metal, instantly unleashing the cloud of smoke.
Hans coughed as he inhaled the terribly thick black smoke, his senses briefly disoriented as he was engulfed. He tried swatting away some of the smoke, only for a familiar hook to swipe in out of the fog and hook his hand. Then an arm reached out and also took hold of the hand, then instantly jerked him forward, sending him stumbling forward and landing on his face. He took a hard blow due to the wing rising from another flap at that moment, slamming into his face with a meaty smack.
Hans rolled over just in time to see the figure leap out of the clearing smoke and on top of him, planting his feet firmly on him. He raised his cane high, arms stiff and firm, as he prepared for a final blow.
Hans, however, simply grinned. He then took hold of his rival's ankles, just above the blue boots, and with all his might, heaved up and tossed his hands behind him. Sly instantly flew forward, sliding along the metal for a moment, then falling right off the front of the wing.
Hans twisted his head around to see that, sure enough, they had been barely three feet from the edge of the wing. He had one final glimpse of the blue blur disappearing over the edge as he fell.
Hans, satisfied with himself, slowly got to his feet as the wing dipped down again, brushing himself off. He took another step forward, towards the edge, and leaned casually over to get a good view of the raccoon's body falling to earth. He was briefly stunned at how high they were now. The men below were like ants. The summit of the volcano had to be at least 200…
Suddenly, just as the wing started to descend in another flap, he could see a gray and blue blur fly out from directly underneath the wing, taking full advantage of the drop in level of the wing and Hans, soaring over him even higher as the wing lowered beneath him. Hans didn't even have time to turn around before he could feel the hard wood smack him in the back. This blow, however, was harder than anything he had felt. It was delivered with such fury and force that he could feel a sickening CRACK.
Hans howled in pain again, attempting to turn around to face his attacker. As he did so, the cane swung out again, slamming into his right side and sending him tumbling sideways. He landed hard and skidded a few feet. He tried to harness enough strength to lift himself up, but the aching was too terrible. Then he felt another thunderous blow in his side, resulting in yet another snapping sound as one of his ribs was broken. Then, he could feel the familiar hook wrap itself around his foot. He glanced down just in time to finally see the raccoon: He was breathing heavily, angrier than ever, holding the cane like a golf club and just in the process of yanking up and lifting his foot, and entire leg, up.
With another lift, he tossed Hans' legs up sideways over himself, the sudden gathering of weight sending Hans rolling even further down the wing, heading for the very tip. He tried to get a firm grip on the ridges, but he felt the hook grab him again, this time by the waist, and lift him up once more, sending him tumbling. The sudden incline and acceleration as he fell instantly made him realize that he was now on the very tip.
Hans slid around as he fell, now facing up at his attacker. He stretched his arms out and dug his claws into the metal surface as he fell. He could suddenly feel the surface drop out from beneath his feet.
Just then, his fingers caught on the rough ridges, and he held on with a death grip as he could feel his legs below the knees dangling freely. Here at the tip of the wing, the rise and fall of the wing as it flapped was greater than ever, jerking hard as it rising, then falling, rising, then falling. He could barely keep his claws in place with every flap. He knew that he had to get back up. But at the same time, he was afraid to move his arms for even a second. The flaps put more strain on his arms, and he could feel his grip start to weaken…
Hans then lifted his head up once more and saw Sly standing above him, legs firmly planted on the surface of the wing, surprisingly firm as the wing constantly dropped beneath him. His fur and clothes were blowing in the wind, his cane at his side, and a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. Sly was glaring down at him with extreme hatred burning in his eyes. Even despite their difference in size, Hans truly felt fear at seeing him this angry, towering over him like a statue.
His brief distraction allowed the next flap to jostle his grip loose. He slid further, and in a split second, regained his concentration and dug his fingertips deep into the metal surface. He could feel even more of his body slide down the wing, now with the lower half of his body no longer pressed against the comforting metal. Just as his lower stomach dropped free, he gained a new grip on one of the last ridges in the wing, the veins in his hands bulging, his knuckles white, and his fingertips sore from how hard he gripped this final ridge, knowing that the few after it – even if he did manage to grab one – would not provide a sufficient grip.
Hans groaned, half out of strain and half out of fear. He could feel the throaty, scratchy vibration of the sound on his esophagus. He briefly cracked his head to the side and looked down. He was impossibly high up now, with the very sight of the ground – the gray buildings of the facility now like a series of gray patches on the dark surface – making him sick and catapulting his fear as high up in his mind as he was high up off the ground.
The next flap finally did it. Before Hans even knew it, his fingers had been jolted up and out of the ridge, and he was sliding down again. His eyes widened in terror and he scrambled for another grip.
He never got one.
And then, before he knew it, he was no longer touching the firm, cold metal. He was falling. He couldn't see much, with the exception of the massive steel beast above him, fast growing further and further away from him, as there was only dark sky around him, hardly a single cloud in sight. He could also feel the wind whipping against his body as he fell, ruffling his clothes and his fur. He could also feel the fast and strange sensation of his stomach dropping, a sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking him as he fell freely and fast. But he could not hear anything. He could not hear the wind rushing past his ears. Nor could he hear his own screaming as he plunged to his death.
Sly stood firmly, watching in mute triumph as Hans finally lost his grip and slid down the rest of the way, falling off the wing and plummeting straight to earth. His scream grew fainter and fainter, until there was eventually nothing more to be heard.
Sly sighed, then turned and walked back across the wing, still rising and falling treacherously, getting as far away from the edges as possible and returning to the central body of the beast. Soon, he was on its back once more, no longer rising and falling as the wings flapped.
With his opponent gone, Sly finally got the chance to take a good look around him. He now saw that the Clockwerk had risen well above the ground, and seemed to be over 700 feet into the air, but nonetheless still circling the facility below.
Sly scanned the flat metal surface once and soon saw the small, barely discernable cracks in the metal where the obvious hatch leading inside was. He kneeled down next to it and raised his Cane high above his head, the hook aimed down at the crack beneath him. Even though, deep down, Sly knew that it was a meaningless gesture, he had to get in somehow.
He brought the Cane down onto the crack, twisting the hook deep into the narrow slit. He then started to pull back, attempting to break it open.
Suddenly, there was a startling lurch. Sly stumbled backwards, leaving the Cane lodged in the fissure. He landed on his back and realized that the sheet of metal on one side of the crack was moving. After a moment, his Cane fell right through the now much larger crack and vanished. He could hear it clatter on a metal floor below. Sly scrambled to get to his feet and made for the hole. He jumped straight down into it and instantly transitioned from the dark night around him to a slightly brighter metal room, a cold air blowing through it. He landed on his feet and jumped right back up. He saw his Cane in front of him and swiped it up. He looked up above him and saw the metal hatch slide shut once more with a thud. Now, the stars of the sky above were gone, as was the sound of the blowing wind.
Instead, a new sound could be heard.
Laughter.
"Welcome, Cooper."
Sly spun around to the direction of the voice. He saw a massive control panel in front of him. The entire wall opposite was lined with switches, buttons, and screens. There was a single large chair in front of it. In the wall just above the panels were the two massive, round, piercing yellow eyes. Through them, he could see the world outside.
Standing next to the chair was Vlotho.
"I must give you credit, Cooper. Surviving that waste disposal chute was something I thought even a man of your talents could not accomplish. Making it out of the crater, however you did it, truly must have pushed you to the limit of your skills. Sneaking into the hangar undetected was impressive as well. But why did you have to kill poor Hans like that?"
"A better question would be, why did you kill all of your henchmen? Everyone in that hangar was killed in that explosion, we both know that. Why?"
"In the end, true power can only be trusted to one person and one person only. Many of my past lives had their downfall by trusting someone else with the same great knowledge that they were gifted with. But not me, oh no, not me. All of those scientists knew the structure, the design, the special abilities, and the weak points of all of my magnificent creations here. From the Mech Eggs, to the Attack Robots, to the Robo-Falcons, even to the Second Clockwerk itself!"
"What about all of those other creations? How are you supposed to control them without the help of those who constructed them?"
"Prior to entering the Second Clockwerk, the top scientists explained in full detail to me all of the controls I can use from right here in the cockpit to automatically send a sort of wake-up signal to all of the Attack Robots and Robo-Falcons. With a few pushes of various buttons, pulling of a lever, and turning of a switch, all of my hundreds of robotic minions will be ready to go at my command, and follow me through the air like a flock of crows guarding their leader. Because the machines, unlike man, can be trusted to be a thousand times more loyal than any man ever could be. In the end, none of them could be trusted. If one of these robots are captured by the enemy, they'll simply use the self-destruct system. But what if one of the men was to be captured by enemy forces? One of them would surely confess under the slightest of torture, or even just threats of torture."
"Your entire army. All of the men who loyally served you for so many years, as you described it yourself."
"They knew the risks."
"Including the risk of being killed by their own leader?"
"Enough, Cooper. I grow tired of listening to you bore me with your lecture on ethics and morals. This auto-pilot mode for the Second Clockwerk can run infinitely, but I do have an army of robotic minions to summon out of the facility before I proceed to destroy the entire base. Besides, while auto-pilot could easily and efficiently run during all of my major raids, I would prefer to watch the world burn with me at the wheel of its destruction. So let me warn you right now, Cooper, you are in for the fight of your life. Although Hans was much larger than I am, my fighting skills are far superior. You shall regret crossing my path, and will wish that you had simply stayed home in Paris, moping over your dead wife."
Sly raised his Cane and charged at him with blind fury. He took a wild swing before he was even within punching range. Vlotho easily ducked under it and threw a single punch into Sly's stomach. Sly coughed and buckled forward. Vlotho spun around and threw a left cut, sending Sly reeling to the left and sliding across the floor.
"And so the great game begins."
Sly started to prop himself up with his elbows when he felt two powerful hands grab him by his shirt and yank him up. Vlotho pulled Sly's face closer to him and muttered, "You are out of your league, boy."
Vlotho then swiveled around and threw Sly across the room, where he hit the floor again and slid along until he hit the metal wall. Sly crumpled to the floor, his hand still weakly gripping the Cane. Vlotho began to approach him again.
"You thought that you could just travel across the ocean with a few guns, ride all the way to the Volcano and just take it by storm that easily? You have stirred up the hornet's nest. Do not expect to ever see the light of day ever again."
Vlotho stopped just next to Sly.
"I shall enjoy killing you, Cooper. Defeating the one man who could've prevented the Resurrection, and perhaps my most worthy opponent, will serve as a fine predecessor to conquering the whole world."
And then, just as Vlotho barely finished the word "world," Sly instantly sprang into action, spinning around on the floor and swiping his Cane at Vlotho, catching both of his legs in the hook, and promptly yanking and knocking Vlotho off his feet. The badger grunted as he slammed face-first into the floor.
Sly jumped to his feet and grabbed the back of Vlotho's neck. As he started to lift him up, he replied: "You talk too much."
Sly then spun around several times before releasing Vlotho, sending him across the metal floor until he slammed right into the chair in front of the massive control panel, tripping right over one armrest and flipping across the seat itself, crashing down on the opposite side.
Sly quickly strode up to Vlotho before he had the chance to recover, raised his Cane, and brought it down on Vlotho's back once, then twice. The badger cried out briefly before he started to roll over. Sly raised his Cane once more and brought it down, only for Vlotho to reach out and take hold of it with one fist, stopping it before it could slam into his chest. He then heaved and threw Sly over him, sending him across the metal floor and into the front of the control panel.
Sly jumped up to his feet first, while Vlotho was still grunting and trying to get back up. Sly charged at him, Cane behind him and ready to strike again. As he drew close enough and started to swing, Vlotho ducked and let the Cane swing right over his head. He outstretched his arms and took hold of Sly around his torso. He then straightened up, lifting Sly right off the ground and over his head. He heaved and threw his arms behind him, tossing Sly right over him.
He turned around just in time to see Sly start to stand up again, noticeably wobbling. Vlotho walked up to Sly in a perfectly normal pace, as if in no rush to toss another blow at his opponent. Sly had still not yet raised his head, and his knees looked ready to buckle.
"This early? I expected more from you, Coo-."
Just as Vlotho was within range, Sly instantly straightened up and took a mad swing as if he was a baseball player in the World Series. The Cane finally hit home, striking Vlotho across the face, mainly hitting his jaw with a satisfying crack.
Vlotho yelped and stumbled backwards, his hands flying up to his mouth in an instant to cover it. Already, some blood had started to leak through off the side of his mouth, dripping along and dampening his fur. He took a step back bent over, not making any effort to join back in the fight, but simply clutching his bleeding jaw and moaning repeatedly.
He shook briefly, tried to take a step back, but instead took a step forward, slightly closer to Sly. He moaned again, now coughing slightly. He coughed again, then again. He then instantly removed his hands from his face as he coughed for the fourth time; a loud and powerful cough, combined with a spit.
Sly could see, among the clump of blood that came out of his mouth, a small object that gleamed briefly as it fell. It bounced off the floor once with a soft clang; the unmistakable clatter of metal against metal. As it bounced away from the splotch of blood now on the floor, skittering closer to Sly's feet, he could now identify it perfectly: A gold tooth. It stopped just a few inches from Sly's right boot.
And then, before he knew it, he was flying through the air with a sharp pain in his chin. He felt as if he had been struck by a crowbar, with a splitting pain resonating in his chin and jawbone. Vlotho had swung a punch upward while Sly was distracted, and had struck him under the chin. The impact had literally lifted Sly off his feet and sent him reeling backwards, his back arcing and his head craning back as the ceiling rushed past him. He had also lost his grip on his Cane, which fell straight to the floor while he himself flew straight backwards. He slammed onto the metal floor, his back and the back of his head hitting simultaneously, sending a sharp pain up and down his spine.
"You are clever, Cooper, but I am smarter." Vlotho boasted as he casually gave the Cane a kick, sending it sliding across the floor to the other side of the room. "I can't believe you fell for that momentary distraction." Vlotho then kneeled down to pick up his lost golden tooth. "Perhaps you are not the mighty warrior I had heard you to be. Perhaps you are not the fighter who took down all members of the Fiendish Five one by one. Such a shame."
Vlotho then lightly tossed the tooth at Sly, still lying on the ground as if paralyzed. It bounced off his face, hitting him on his right cheek.
"But I don't want to kill you yet. It's too much fun beating you senseless. And besides, the most entertaining death, to me, is the slow, agonizing, merciless kind."
He then stopped down and grabbed Sly by the throat. "And that is exactly what shall happen to you."
He then heaved up and spun around, throwing Sly halfway across the room once more, where Sly scraped the side of the chair as he flew before he hit the floor once more. All that Sly could register were three things: The unbelievable pain, the impact of hitting the floor, and the sound of Vlotho's laughter.
To be continued…