Fox Point

by MaveriKat

Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it but so are those who cannot let the past go. With the rise of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, one vixen is going to be uprooted from what she knew to live and breath the tenants of the ZPD: Trust, Integrity, and Bravery. Even if the city doesn't believe she can. Rated M for Violence, Adult Language, and Adult Situations.

17. Battle Plans

Disclaimer: "Zootopia" is owned by the Magical World of Walt Disney Pictures and Walt Disney Animation Studios. The "Sly Cooper" videogame series is owned by Sony, Sucker-Punch Productions, and Sanzaru Games. There are also aspects that will be borrowed from or directly inspired from Zootopia's pre-production works and concepts from Nicolaswilde's "Zistopia" Tumblr blog. Said story itself is a fan-based non-profit work of fiction written strictly for entertainment purposes only. Please support the official releases. Thank you.

Fox Point

By MaveriKat & Nanya
Beta Read By Innortal

Chapter 17: Battle Plans

Stay cool, Carmelita... no need to be worried. You have Cooper dead to rights... it's all over, the orange-pelted vixen thought as she sat on one of the interior benches of a helicopter, her arms crossed over her chest as she reclined back against the wall of the aircraft with her left leg over her right; a hooked cane to her side. Her brown eyes were focused on the man across from her, the raccoon a little worse for wear after his fight with Clock-La but he was in no longer in immediate danger from his wounds. The man's blue clothes were still filthy but the emergency medical personnel called to the scene patched him up nicely. The cuts on his face had stopped bleeding and they even managed to save his left ear! Sly was once again recognizable as the pain in the ass thief she knew.

And that was what made this whole situation feel... unreal. He had given himself up for the sake of his friends and was going to face justice for all his crimes! All the years she spent hunting him down across the world and back again were over. He was unarmed; the masked mammal's upper extremities restrained behind his back with handcuffs as he sat on the bench opposite to her... the female red fox only needed to escort him inside of the Paris Headquarters of Interpol and the journey would be at an end. With Cooper's surrender, her career was restored as his came to a halt. Considering the lengths he went to restore his family's book, the Thievius Raccoonus, she had a sneaking suspicion that he had to be up to something.

And yet there he was, just sitting there quietly. There was no smug expression of superiority on his face, nor was he letting off any snarky quips to distract her. The master thief merely sat there, silent as death while he looked back at her, his own brown eyes meeting her gaze.

Carmelita would swear to God, it was almost as if he was trying to read her thoughts while she tried to figure what his angle was.

And then the raccoon smiled wide at her, his teeth letting off a glint from how the light reflected off them as he waggled his eyebrows at her in a flirtatious fashion.

Blinking her eyes, the re-instated Interpol Agent raised her right eyebrow as she processed the obvious come-on her fellow mammal was giving her. After a few moments of just staring at the criminal as he grinned like a fool at her, the Hispanic vulpine finally responded, "You've got something in your teeth."

Blinking his eyes at the vulpine beauty's response, Sly brought his left hand to his side dug into his red leg pouch and retrieved small hand mirror and checking his teeth. "Huh..." he murmured in curiosity. "Wonder where that came from..."

Needless to say, the master thief's preening made Carmelita blink her eyes in shock. He was free?

"I don't even remember the last time I ate something with lettuce in it," he murmured curiously as he brought his other hand up and rubbed at his gums with a fingertip.

Her eyes going wide with shock as the man proved that yes, he was indeed free, the international policewoman drew her weapon. "Put those cuffs on right now!" She demanded.

Turning his attention to the woman sitting across from him, the masked mammal blinked his dark brown eyes. "Well, two problems with that," Sly responded, still picking at his teeth as he did. "One: I just got out of those." His gaze darted over to the handcuffs to his side before his stare returned to the item in the woman's hands. "Two: you're threatening me with a personal massager."

The red vixen's eyes crossed to look down at the weapon in her hands. Carmelita blinked her eyes once, twice... and then swore terribly enough that her mother would have tanned her hide if she heard her, in spite of their ages. "Mierda-hijo de puta de un hijo pinchazo Ringtail pique!" She growled as she forcefully slammed said... 'stress reliever'... onto the bench beside her. The furiously blushing Latina then withdrew her Shock Pistol from her duffel bag, aiming the weapon at the smiling criminal raccoon. "Put them back on, Cooper."

Smiling, the smug criminal batted his eyes at the woman sitting across from him, purposely fluttering his eyelashes at her. "I heard a, 'Ringtail' in there, Carm... what sweet nothings did you have to say about me?"

The weapon began to whirr to life as the Interpol Agent charged up a shot. "Put. Them. Back. On." She commanded, her upper lip curling back in a snarl.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the latest in the long line of Cooper Master Thieves nodded his head. "Okay, okay... I get the hint, he murmured as he reached his hands behind his back, following by a clacking sound. He then turned his torso to the right, allowing the lovely red fox to see the handcuffs were in place. "Happy now, Carmelita?" He pouted. "Or am I back to calling you, 'Inspector Fox' now?"

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the thief. The Latina spitfire spent some time checking his handcuffs from afar, not trusting him just yet. After all, he had gotten out–though she didn't know how–and she would need to check him... vigorously...

As the implications of what she was considering hit her, the vixen shook her head–and wondering why she had her... little friend... with her–and immediately blamed it for her mind wondering. "It doesn't matter what you call me," the vulpine policewoman stated firmly. Gazing into his eyes, she promised the crook, "You're still going to prison."

Shrugging his shoulders, the masked mammal still maintained a smile even as he bemoaned, "And we were getting along so well lately!"

The woman snorted, ignoring the mischievous perp's theatrics. "Cut it out, Cooper. Just tell me how you got free of those handcuffs," she demanded of him.

Sly just smirked. "Seriously? I just got them back on, as you requested I might add. And now you want me to take them off again? I'm getting some mixed messages here!" The masked mammal paused for a moment, tilting his head as he considered something. "Then again, you tend to give out a lot of mixed signals, so this is par the course, really."

Sighing, the reinstated Interpol Agent got up from her seat and made her way over to him, one hand still holding onto her Shock Pistol. Sitting down next to him, she told the raccoon to, "Show me."

Smiling, the master thief couldn't help but mischievously quip, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He wagged his eyebrows for emphasis.

The woman's face went flush with a crimson hue at the implications; bright enough to actually show through her facial fur. "COOPER!" The woman snapped. "Be serious here!"

The masked mammal let out a bout of laughter... not one of mockery, no... this was laughter of honest to goodness mirth. "I am! This..." he turned a bit so that his back was to the wall of the helicopter once more but so he could also look at her once more. Giving the Hispanic vulpine a rather wan smile, he told her, "Carmelita... you did it. You freed me from Clockwerk. Even in handcuffs, flying to Interpol, and eventually to prison... I am freer now than I have ever been all my life. And I have you to thank for it."

Mulling over those words, the Inspector could only blink her eyes at the ring-tailed perp, wondering if this was a trick, if he had gone crazy, or if it was–as odd as it might seem and contrary to everything she knew about him–an honest reaction.

Suddenly, the vixen had other issues at hand... literally, as he was somehow once again free, holding both her hands together with his own, and staring into her eyes. Where did my weapon go? She thought to herself.

"As since I have never been freer," he whispered, the raccoon closing in closer to her face. "Maybe it's time I... enjoy this freedom..."

Carmelita felt her heart pounding in her chest as she saw the man start to slide that much closer to her, almost touching noses with her. Her eyes darted about the helicopter cabin, to Sly... and immediately caught sight of her pistol on his lap. So despite how loud the traitorous voice in her head was telling her to, 'kiss him' the vixen instead quickly reached out and grasped her firearm before throwing herself from the bench and into a roll on the floor of the cabin. She rose her weapon up and held it aloft, aimed at the criminal from her crouched position. "Fuh-fine!" She snapped out, internally wincing from how she stuttered. "Don't tell me how you got them off. Just put them back on, criminal!"

Now the raccoon looked a little upset... before breathing in deeply, causing his chest to expand a little. He began to exhale slowly before reply, "All right, all right... I'll put them back on. But can we still talk? Please?"

Nodding her head firmly enough to cause her mane of navy blue tresses to bob, the international policewoman replied, "Sure. But no more funny business, Cooper! I'm on to you..." she warned as she slowly stood up and walked backwards to the bench opposite the criminal.

Smiling at that response, Sly couldn't help but snark, "Funny... I thought I was the one coming on to you?"

The canid cop growled a bit at those words.

Licking his lips for a moment, the raccoon mulled over his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "Or maybe it is the other way around?" Sly postulated. "After all, you're the one who can't seem to decide if you want me in handcuffs or not, all while threatening me with something that makes me feel a little inadequate."

Her increased growl and narrowed eyes would have had more of an effect, had she not at that moment, fallen onto her bench on the other side of the helicopter. The orange-pelted vixen had been so focused on Sly, that she had forgotten where she was in relation to everything. "...I have no idea how that got there!"

The raccoon just stared down at the toy poking out from between the vixen's legs "...Ye~eeeaaaaaaah..." Sly drawled out slowly. "And just how many times did it work when I said that?"

Her face going flush with humiliation, the vixen grumbled irritably as she tilted to her left and reached her right hand down. Pulling free her, 'personal massager' Carmelita stuffed it back into her bag and out of sight. Staring at him, she held her Shock Pistol aloft once more with her other paw. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know that Cooper?"

"Hey, you're a pain in my heart and I don't mean a heart attack!" The raccoon suddenly replied in a theatric fashion. "Every time I see you I want to... I don't know... do something that would make you want to shoot me." He leaned back against the interior wall of the helicopter before adding, "Which seems to be about anything and everything I do at this point."

The pair went quiet for a moment, both mulling over their frustrations. Finally, after a solid ten minutes, the sound of the helicopter blades whirring above them was broken by the master thief saying, "You were beautiful in that black dress."

Blinking her eyes once, twice, the Hispanic woman gazed upon the perp with a curious fashion. "...Black dress?" She queried.

"The one you wore to Rajan's palace... the party in India," Sly explained. "My God in heaven, black velvet in that slow Southern style. I swear Carm, you could have been the focus of a new religion to bring me to my knees."

Her anger faded in that instant. Not into little girl feelings of love and all that. Oh no. They instead faded into mild annoyance at such a cheesy line. "What? No little boy's smile?" She asked with a teasing grin.

Sly looked affronted. "My dear Inspector, we're not even engaged and yet you're already propositioning me for children!" His ever-usual smile quickly fell into place. "I approve of us moving so fast, Carmelita! If that is why you brought that bottle, I have to warn you: I'm an easy drunk." He tilted his head towards her, winking. "But you could just ask if I'll give it up first, it is only proper for the guy you just demanded babies from."

Twitching, the Hispanic Interpol operative simply glared at the man sitting across from her. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

The raccoon gave her a firm nod of his head, causing his blue cap to tilt forward slightly. "Yep! Turning twenty-two in a few days," he chirruped sweetly. "I've spent my first year as an adult with full freedom running around, beating up master criminals, gathering Clockwerk parts, and being chased by my favorite fox." He waggled his eyebrows at her meaningfully. "What can I say? I like an older woman. Please say you'll be gentle when you make a real man out of me."

Bringing her right hand up, the vulpine palmed her face. "Urge to kill... rising..." she quietly murmured under her breath before she lowered her paw to stare at him. "And how did you know I had a bottle with me?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the master thief explained, "Part of the job is being able to... I guess you could say, 'read' containers. With how deflated your pack is and the shape the contents are making, I could tell you had a bottle of something in there." He grinned before happily asking, "So what is it? Do we have a nice red? White? Or... dare I hope... rosé?"

Sighing, the woman calmly replied, "Champagne. And no, it's not for you."

That response made the raccoon pout in a rather childish manner. "Oh, come on! Share! Like I said, I'm legal tender! Don't I even get a sip as a thank you for sneaking you out of Prague when Interpol was after both of us?"

Looking at the man with a half-lidded gaze, the woman bluntly replied, "Speaking of which, you were groping my butt as you swung us away along power lines with your cane." Come to think of it, she didn't know how the thief managed it but she was thankful neither of them ended up getting electrocuted by him doing that.

"I had to hold you tightly as we were kind of high up," Sly offered. "Would you have rather I had held you very loosely? Perhaps grasped onto the cane with both hands as you wrapped your arms firmly around my neck, your legs locked around me?" He perked up at the mental image he was forming. "Oh! That's what we should have done!" The masked mammal offered before turning his gaze towards the vixen. "Shall we properly... reenact that night?"

Looking at her weapon and upping the charge slightly–as well as wondering if she could safely discharge it inside the helicopter–she looked at his anxious expression and decided to change the subject before she ended up shooting him. So choosing to answer his earlier inquiry, the lovely Latina replied. "The champagne was for when I finally arrested you."

That response made Cooper blink his eyes once, twice, twice. "I call bullshit."

The vixen raised one of her navy blue eyebrows in response. "...Excuse me?" she asked.

Huffing, the raccoon frowned at his captivating captor. "Do you really expect me to believe that the entire time you have been chasing me, you had a bottle of champagne hidden on your person at all times, for some mythical day when you finally got me? And that said bottle–after all we're been through together and you separately–suffered absolutely no damage with its fluids still properly carbonated?"

"Yes. I have," she answered in all seriousness. "I had gotten as a present from my folks the day I was promoted to Inspector... the same day I had met you and was put on your case. Of course this bottle has special meaning to me. I would care for it, keeping it ready until you were behind bars... then I would go home and drink myself into a coma and get the best sleep of my life in... just what would it be at this point? Three, four years now?"

"Four," the raccoon answered as he looked the woman over curiously, taking in her appearance. Mulling over things for a while, he finally nodded his head in acceptance. "I guess it's slightly believable when I consider the fact you own a jet pack," he sighed. "Seriously! All the problems with the EU, the budgeting, the unemployment, and the call to open up borders... and Interpol are spending their money on private jet packs? That kind of technology should be trademarked and sold to the public for big bucks instead of being wasted for personal use!"

The vulpine woman stared right back at the master thief. "God, you are such an asshole sometimes, you know that Cooper?" She asked, feeling more than a little annoyed. "If it wasn't for the fact you nearly died in your attempt to take down Clock-La, I would so smack you upside the head with my Shock Pistol!"

Sly blinked his eyes once, twice. "...That is one pistol-whip I wouldn't want to experience."

Crossing her arms across her chest, the Hispanic policewoman huffed in irritation. "Do be quiet," she grumbled.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, before the masked mischief-maker spoke up again. "So what will you do with yourself now, Inspector?"

"I book you, go home, get blindingly drunk, and sleep like the dead," she stated in a monotone fashion. "Did I not just explain that to you?"

"Not that," Sly waved off with the one hand no longer handcuffed to the aircraft... maybe. She wasn't sure which hand it had been now with how many times he had disrespectfully and annoyingly freed himself. "I mean, what awaits the great Inspector Fox after this case is done and over with?"

She could only blink at that.

"Face it," the ring-tailed mammal spoke sourly. "Your entire career has all been about me since before I became legal–speaking of which, you might get a call from Chris Hamsen about that." Ignoring her growl, he continued. "But after this last case, after I am gone... what will be waiting for you?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Just common criminals, maybe some brats and fools that will try and copy me; more than a few probably ending up dead trying to make some internet video and parents blaming me for their stupidity..." he murmured that last part.

Her muzzle's lips pulled back into a frown. "And what are you getting at?"

"Face it, Carmelita," the master thief said, leaning forward. "I am your peak. That bottle isn't just to celebrate capturing me. It is a celebration of the end of your excitement. After me, it's all downhill from here."

Twitching in growing irritation, the vixen growled angrily at what he was suggesting. Staring up at the masked mammal, she told him firmly, "You are not my White Whale."

Nodding his head, the latest in the long line of career criminals replied, "I would hope not! I need to keep a svelte physique! I couldn't pull off even a tenth of the techniques in the Thievius Raccoonus if I was as big as Murray." He went quiet for a moment before he added, "Or are you trying to tell me you don't want my Moby Dick?" He reclined back a bit, spreading his legs. "You know I'm not wearing pants, Inspector Fox..." he cooed out suggestively.

Her face going completely flush at his flirtations, the Interpol Inspector threatened, "If I see even one peek of your Mini-Cooper, I'm going to have the pilot place a call for an ambulance to be ready for you when we land because you'll need it after I'm through with you!"

The ring-tailed thief chuckled lightly at the woman's threat. "Really, Carm! Have we meant so little to each other? You'd rough me up even after all we've been through together?"

"I am still an officer of law enforcement," she stated proudly.

The raccoon nodded his head at that. "So you'll be turning yourself in too?" He asked.

That caught Carmelita off-guard, causing the vixen to blink her eyes in an almost owlish fashion. "...Excuse me?" She chirruped in surprise.

"Well my dear Inspector Fox, much of what we did together was barely legal in only the loosest of senses," Sly pointed out in all seriousness. "Why, I can think of a few things that could result in you spending some time in prison as well. Sure, a few of the countries we were in don't have nice prisons at all but maybe we could share a cell?" he asked. "And on that note, would you like to be the Bottom Bitch or should I? I mean, you do strike me as a top."

Although the Latina vulpine was annoyed at the, 'bitch' reference, the woman merely closed her eyes for a moment. She breathed in deeply before letting out a small sigh. "Don't try and psyche me out, Cooper." She opened her eyes and stared at him... a little annoyed he'd taken his handcuffs off completely in the small span of time she had taken her gaze off of him. "I've already talked with Commissioner Barkley. It's going to take some doing but with you brought into custody and... well... everything that idiot Neyla did as Clock-La? The facts are out: I've been exonerated and you made the deal to quietly come with me to Interpol in return for letting Bentley and Murray go..."

That little rundown made Sly frown a bit. "It was worth it," he replied in all seriousness. "I just hope Murray can get our turtle pal to a good hospital. That... that was a bad crack to his shell."

Nodding her head, the female red fox felt a little bad for making the perp think about the fate of his friends. As much as he could be an asshole there was no reason for her to be a dick, even unintentionally. "So... tell me, Sly... what do you do in your off time? Do you like books?" She offered, trying to keep his mind off of them.

That immediately drew the raccoon's attention. "Wait. You're actually trying to make small talk with me?" The awe in his voice was very prevalent. As much as he tried, he had never seen the woman be the first to reach out.

"Yes. And if you tell anyone, I'll blame it on a concussion," she explained as she waved off his surprise. "AND PUT THOSE CUFFS BACK ON AND KEEP THEM ON!"

"Yes, Mistress!" he chirped, unable to resist tweaking her a bit even as he complied.

The vixen twitched a bit. "Quit that!" She yelled back as he twirled his handcuffs on one finger

Cooper chuckled at the lovely Latina's exasperation. "Oh come now," he stated as he continued swinging the cuffs around. "Give me credit! I didn't give you the obvious crass response; you know, asking what sort of dirty books might be on your list and if Fifty Shades were in any of their titles." Sitting back down, he leaned back, hands behind his head even if he didn't put the cuffs back on. "And to answer you honestly: I prefer the classics."

"You mean rare first editions," she corrected, remembering some of the thefts.

"I prefer to think of it as seeing the stories and such how the author originally intended them to be," Sly replied, waving off her insinuation. "You might not believe this, but I honestly believe they lose a little something as they become mass produced."

Carmelita raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh really now?" She tilted her head as she gazed upon the man sitting across form her. "Like what?" She queried, wondering what he was getting at.

Leaning his head back so the top of his head pressed against the interior wall of the helicopter, the raccoon replied, "Well, there's the original edition of Charles Chicken's a Christmas Carol. He goes into way, WAY more detail about the Spirit of Christmas Present than ever gets mentioned. Such as being armed with a sword rusted in his scabbard, and carrying around two demonic kits: Ignorance and Want. Honestly, that fat bastard was someone Chris Hamsen would be called on to check out."

The orange-pelted vixen blinked her eyes at that last comment. "...Why do you keep mentioning the host of those, 'To Catch a Predator' news specials?" The woman asked curiously.

Gracing her with a small mischievous grin, Cooper couldn't help but mention, "Because I was always worried when I met you at the impressionable age of seventeen that our undeniable attraction would cause the Po-Po to get 'internal affairs' involved with my favorite Inspector. Joking about it helped ease my worries... and made turning eighteen more of a relief than an exciting milestone."

Sighing, the policewoman palmed her face with her free hand. "Must you make those jokes?"

The raccoon blinked his eyes at her reaction. "What?" The masked mammal queried. "Do you think my defense lawyer or the tabloids won't?"

Carmelita's narrowed eyes peeked through her fingers.

"I didn't say that I would make those accusations," Sly explained. "I just know the public. Hell, what do you think they'll say about what we just went through during the past year?"

Shoulders slumping, the Latina vulpine nodded her head in agreement: he was right. Tabloids would have a field day with the story–especially if they ever found a photo of the two of them dancing.

As she thought back to that dance, the vixen couldn't help but blush a bit more once again. Not as badly as when Sly had been purposely ribbing her, oh no. This was due to a potentially naughty thought that coursed through the back of her mind. "I have to admit... at the time, I didn't recognize you at all. We're not exactly able to really just be together in one place for long and I was so used to the head-shorter, string-bean of an eighteen-year-old thief I had started chasing in earnest once you broke into my office at Interpol. You... you grew up well, physically at least. I'll give you that much."

His good ear twitching with delight at the woman's admission, Sly couldn't help but give her a small smile in return. "Cardio and gymnastics have given me a build France would kill for in their Animalympic athletes." Especially when one considered how famed runner René Fromage threw away a shot at the gold back during the 1980 games. The raccoon leaned forward on the bench once more and straightened up, trying to puff out his chest a bit to appear more impressive than he actually was. "I am a premiere specimen of kinetic poetry in motion."

Rolling her eyes, Inspector Fox couldn't help but scoff, "With an ego the size of the Eifel Tower to boot."

Giving her a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, the ring-tailed thief gazed into the eyes of the woman sitting across from him. "I'd say it's more like the size of the Paris itself... but hey!" He chirruped, switching gears on a dime. "I am rather humble like that," the raccoon retorted, once more giving the Interpol Agent a cheeky grin.

Letting off a grunt of exasperation, Carmelita couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Usually, men don't exaggerate the size of their own ego like that."

Crossing his arms over his chest, the master thief offered the target of his affection a wide, toothy grin. "My, my," Sly chirred. "Making quips about my equipment again? Should I be worried about my purity before we get to HQ?" He asked, trying to make his eyes look sweet and innocent–something he had a lot of practice with.

The vulpine inspector snorted. "Please. There's nothing you have that I want." The policewoman sounded more assured than she actually felt. She had been softening up towards the raccoon over time–especially the past year–as they ended up being on the lamb because of the machinations of the late Captain Neyla. Fortunately for her, the masked mammal's current attitude was making it rather easy for the woman to keep her guard up.

Pressing his hands to his chest, the perpetual perp cooed out in a theatrical fashion, "Ouch! Oh Death, where is thy stinger!?"

Her ears flattening back against her skull in annoyance as the criminal refused to be serious, the Latina vulpine glared daggers at the ring-tailed rascal. "And furthermore, just why won't you keep your handcuffs on? Is it really that difficult to maintain a professional appearance?"

Cooper blinked his eyes a couple of times at the vulpine beauty's comment. "Professional appearance?" He asked. "My dear Inspector, may I remind you of my own professional duty? My needs? My musts? My reputation? What would it say about me, the greatest thief of our generation–and a few others, despite what my dear departed relatives and ancestors would think–if I was truly held in such minor contraptions?" He began to twirl the handcuffs on his right index finger for emphasis. "And, frankly," he began once more, leaning forward to gaze at the woman sitting across from him. "Just what would it say about how long you and the law enforcement agencies of the world, if they were able to hold me? That you took so long to catch someone made to appear so utterly inept?"

With her brown eyes narrowing in anger, the female red fox's lip curled back on her muzzle, showing off a number of sharp teeth as she growled at him. "It would mean you've been a lucky son of a bitch who—"

"Hey now!" The raccoon snapped, interrupting the Latina law-enforcer. "Call me whatever you may like but I'll have you know that my mother was not a bitch!" He shrugged. "Sure, dad might have come home a few times when I was a younger, impressionable kit with a lovely canid woman or two... particularly the kind one pays money to have good times with..." he admitted that last part softly. "But Mama Cooper was a raccoon!" He smiled as he sat up on his seat, arms held out at the sight as he flexed his arms, trying to appear more muscular. "I am a one-hundred-percent, as you love to put it, ring-tailed thief!"

Twitching irritably for a moment in growing aggravation, Inspector Fox finally replied, "Fine. Fine. You can sit there with your cuffs off for a little bit but remember! I always have the option of blasting your fluffy tail to kingdom come and Interpol will gladly put you into a prison hospital first if it makes you amenable." She reminded him threateningly.

"...I always feel like the song, 'A Night on Bald Mountain' should be playing in the background whenever you get like this," the master thief said in all seriousness.

The lovely red vixen shrugged, taking her turn to smile just oh-so-innocently.

"Besides, Inspector Fox," he began speaking again, a mischievous smile returning to his face once more. "You may talk a big game but we both know the truth."

That comment made Carmelita blink her eyes. "About what?" She asked. "My apparent and boundless love for you?" She scoffed sarcastically.

Indeed, Sly blinked his own eyes in surprise. "No~ooooo..." he drawled out slowly as he needed a moment for his mind to get back on track. "But we'll come back to that Freudian slip a bit later," the criminal promised. "I was referring to the adventures we had together while you were on the run. I saw that spark in your eyes when you got to be the bad girl, the thrill of being on the other side of the law. You liked it."

She frowned. "My options were extremely limited and I was merely making the best out of a terrible situation. They had me imprisoned at Contessa's castle for over a month and Neyla would have wanted nothing more than to toss my ass into another maximum security prison just to hide the truth." She gritted her teeth again, feeling her anger rise once more... albeit not necessarily focused on Sly this time. "This has been the most trying year of my life, Cooper. You always talk about being a master thief and following the code of your family? You're not the only one!" She motioned to herself. "Fourth generation police officer and there are a lot more ancestors in my family tree that were part of law enforcement in one way or another. That's who I am... and the fact that tigress cunt tarnished my image and had my family worried sick makes me wish I could still punch the feline whore in her dumb smug face!"

"..." the ring-tailed thief blinked his eyes once, twice, thrice. "...You didn't inhale any Spice while we were on this journey, did you?" He saw what happened when Murray was hopped up on the stuff first hand; he'd barely got out of that confrontation unscathed. He didn't think he could survive a raging hot-blooded Latina spitfire like the vixen before him.

Crossing her arms over her chest at the comment, the vulpine woman snorted. She then assured him, "No, Cooper. No I did not."

"Just making sure," he said before leaning back against the interior wall of the helicopter. Laughing a bit, he looked at the woman sitting across from him once more. "Look at the two of us, still caught up in our family occupations even now."

The vixen's left ear twitched slightly in irritation. "You say that like it is a bad thing," she replied in a guarded tone.

"It isn't," the ring-tailed criminal replied. "But you can get wrapped up in it, forget about the little things in life."

Raising her right eyebrow, the Interpol officer asked, "Like what?"

"We~eeeell..." Sly began slowly, being careful with his words. "I know my team will at least know what happened and write it down in the Thievius Raccoonus for me. Did you think to let your family know what happened before you came back to borrow one of Interpol's helicopters so you could bring down Clock-La?"

She nodded her head firmly enough to cause her mane of navy blue tresses to bounce. "Who do you think managed to commandeer a police helicopter for me? Even if they couldn't prove it at the time, they knew I was innocent and were willing to help me clear my name. Speaking of which?" She took a deep breath. "Thanks for being my tail gunner. Helicopters are way too complicated to fly and also use the weaponry at the same time."

Smiling once more, the masked mammal wagged his eyebrow at the woman sitting across from him in a flirtatious fashion. "I am an experienced tail gunner, aren't I?"

Sighing, the vulpine rolled her brown eyes. "And those lousy come-ons are why I actually believe you when you say you have, 'purity'... I doubt you've gotten anywhere beyond kissing someone."

Lowering his head, Sly went surprisingly quiet for a moment. "Actually... that moment we shared on the Krack-Karov volcano was my first kiss."

Needless to say, that caught the vulpine policewoman off guard. Straightening up, the Hispanic woman turned her attention towards her captive with wide eyes. "Seriously? You've never kissed anyone before then!?"

"What can I say?" He shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal manner. "Orphan. Unloved. Unwanted. Escaped with my pals when we turned seventeen..." he shook his head. "Oh yes, Carm... I'm not gonna lie... you were my first and I wanted you to be for a long, long time..."

The orange-pelted vixen took several moments to process that, blinking her eyes as she assimilated the newest little factoid of Sly Cooper. One that she would at least do him the courtesy of–and protect her own reputation a bit as well–by not putting it in her report.

However, when those moments of internal summation ended, Inspector Fox found that the master thief was once again no longer sitting across from her, but was deep within her personal space, eyes boring into her own. "But I'm not the only one who was waiting, Carmelita... was I?" He said softly to her.

Frowning, the woman scooted over on her bench again, placing some space in between him and her. "...Waiting?" She asked as she brought her Shock Pistol up in a defensive manner, pointing it at his chest. "What the heck do you think you're talking about, Cooper?"

Smiling gently with no sign of his usual ego peeking out, the raccoon placed one paw on her weapon and calmly pushed it aside. "I think you know what I mean," he replied, his voice now barely above a whisper, as he closed in once again. "I wasn't the only one who noticed that spark when we kissed, the looks, the glances. Seriously, my dear Inspector, do you think I am still in this helicopter to be taken away? No," he shook his head. "I am here to steal one more thing from you." So saying, he leaned in to rub his cheek against the vixen's.

Eyes going wide as she felt the nuzzling, the vulpine officer let out a squeak as she once again slipped the Shock Pistol up between her and the affectionate perp. "Eee-e-e-easy there, Sly..." she said as she pressed the open barrel of her weapon at his chest firmly to get him to back off. "Just... just return to your seat. We'll... we'll talk more. How about that?" She offered, flustered that she was having trouble keeping her cool around the smooth criminal.

Smiling wide and not even minding that the woman was insisting they break physical contact, the raccoon took her attitude to at least keep things amiable rather than just pulling the trigger to be a rousing success. "I look forward to it..." he replied sweetly as he bowed his head to the canid cutie before getting up from her bench and making his way back to the one opposite her. Settling himself down in his seat, he leaned forward and chirruped, "Now then... music!"

The vulpine officer blinked her bright brown orbs once, then twice, and finally a third time in utter surprise. "...Music?" She queried, confused by what he was getting at.

Chuckling with a bit of mirth, the masked mammal replied, "Is there any music you like... outside of Night on Bald Mountain when you're angry, I mean."

Taking a deep breath, the orange-pelted fox thought about that. She wasn't sure why she should be taking him so seriously... but if it kept him calm for the rest of the ride, it couldn't hurt. "Don't laugh, Cooper," she warned him. "But if you must know... I like Neil Diamond."

"AH!" The ring-tailed rapscallion chimed out in understanding. "Let me guess! He won you over with either, 'Carmelita's Eyes' or 'Forever in Blue Jeans'... am I right?"

The woman actually blushed a little, surprised to find the man knew even that much about the singer. "The former, actually; my father would sing that one to me a lot. He was a big Neil Diamond fan and I loved listening to papa's records as I got older."

Smiling wider, the raccoon nodded his head in understanding. "That's rather nice. Something for the family to share that isn't the usual pursuit of truth and justice. I think I could find myself liking Neil Diamond if you give that old dog your seal of approval."

Carmelita nodded her head, making a mental note to enjoy an evening with her records and a nice glass of Chianti. "So... what about you, Ringtail? Do you like any music?"

Managing a devious grin, Sly happily blurted out, "I just love a good Stradivarius!"

That response immediately caught the female red fox's attention. "Oh?" She chirruped, pleasantly surprised by the man's answer. "I didn't realize you were a fan of classical music, Cooper. That's rather respectable!" She smiled sweetly as she seemed to reminisce, "Ah... a good Stradivarius can really bring out some of the best notes in the classics of Bach and Mozart. I should've known you were into classics when you brought up, 'A Night on Bald Mountain'." She shook her head good-naturedly as she added, "And here I was certain you were going to be stereotypical and say you liked rap music."

Sly blinked his eyes. Actually, he had been talking about how much money he got fencing the original instruments and wanted to segue into how he liked gansta rap–it was a raccoon thing–but hearing her opinions on the matter? "Er... yeah. I'm a mammal of refined tastes."

Not that there was anything wrong with classical music. When the chance was available, he could enjoy the classics with the best of them. But that Stradivarius... such was something a bit different. Sure, the master thief could pick a lock with no problem but ask him to play a violin–or any instrument, really–and he was total crap.

Carmelita blinked at the man's half-hearted response. Her instincts were telling her that there was more to it than that but she wouldn't pry... for the moment, anyway. After all, how often would she get a calm and decent conversation out of Cooper like this? And if nothing else, who knew? He might confess to something else that Interpol could charge him with!

So offering him a friendly smile, she tried her best to relax a little, hoping the perp would pick up on the vibe and do so as well. "Now then... how about art?" She queried. "Is there anything in particular you like? I rather like Monet's landscapes: countryside, buildings, unique rural architecture. His painting style really helps things pop." The vulpine woman prattled off, explaining her interest in the man's drawings.

Sly merely shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I may not know art but I know what I like..." he trailed off, smiling at the memories of all the successful art heists he and the gang pulled; particularly from private collectors that got their pieces on the black market. "One of my absolute favorite pieces though... the Mona Lita." He raised his head to look up into Carmelita's eyes, meeting her bright brown orbs with his slightly darker set. "Every time I look at that beauty, I swear I'm gazing upon your twin, Carm."

Carmelita rolled her eyes, before focusing on Sly once more. "Seriously? Must you continue with these cheesy pickup lines?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the man leaned forward in a nonchalant manner. "You know what they always say! Honesty is the best policy."

The vixen stared at the captive criminal as if he'd grown a second head. "Honesty? You?"

Smirking, the master thief offered the canid cop a nod of his head. "I'll have you know I never lied about who or what I am... unless a lawyer was called for first," he muttered at the end.

Her ears twitching above her navy blue tresses upon catching that quiet utterance, the vixen blinked her eyes before she considered that. She couldn't fault the bitterness to his tone: it was true. Sly was likely going to be dealing with a lot of lawyers come this time tomorrow. So taking a deep breath, she decided to toss him a bone as she held her champagne bottle aloft once more. "I'm beginning to wonder if you don't need this more than I do..." she said as she shook the bottle she had been saving for the occasion of his arrest.

The criminal's smile became rather lopsided at that with growing glee. "Well, I suppose I could enjoy a sip or three," Sly agreed. "I am above the legal age... for here, at least... I think..." he blinked his eyes. "Er... what is the legal drinking age for France again?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes at how he was only now trying to be lawful, she worked on opening the cork before answering. "It is sixteen for beer and wine, eighteen for the hard stuff."

The masked mammal perked up considerably. "Well then, Inspector Fox," he cooed the woman's name. "I guess we won't be breaking any laws tonight if we share that."

"And you're twenty-one... you're the age of majority in all first-world countries," the lovely Latina stated with a smile and she continued to uncork the bottle... only to be surprised as Sly's hands were over her own to help her once more; the perp sitting to her right. Raising an eyebrow, she queried, "You're not going to be a good captive criminal about this, are you?" She asked, resigned to the fact that the master thief could slip in and out of his cuffs at will, damn proper protocol.

Grinning wide, the ring-tailed rascal showed off his pearly whites to the Interpol Inspector. "What can I say, Carm? A lovely lady like you gives a man all the incentive he needs to have some get up and go!"

"Just don't try to get up and go out the helicopter. With how high we are, I think you'd make a mess on the way down," the vulpine stated pointedly as she finally pulled the cork free from the bottle of champagne with an audible pop; the alcoholic beverage fizzing out of the open neck of the green glass. She brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent, the aroma strong yet soothing... enough that she could practically taste the champagne on the tip of her tongue. She then held the bottle out to the man and queried, "Would you like the first taste?"

Smirking, he leaned in, practically touching noses with the vulpine woman.

"Of the champagne!" She quickly corrected; her blush so fierce it shone through her facial fur.

The man rolled his eyes at the vixen's reluctance. "Oh, if I must," Sly said dramatically, as he leaned towards the open bottle, lifting it from her hand to carefully take a swig of it. The last thing he wanted to do was upset the contents enough to release all of the carbonation.

Despite what she may have thought, it wasn't his first bottle–though the ones he usually went for where of a higher cash value, rarity, and on the certain side of not having changed completely to vinegar... or ones replaced by his ancestors after they had downed them. At the old home he and his father shared, Sly had gone into the basement to find his Pop's secret stash... only to find bottles filled with only parchments of paper hundreds of years old declaring, 'I.O.U.' in them.

Tennessee Cooper's name had popped up more than once as he had hit up all the whiskey bottles... something that Sly knew the good Inspector preferred, if the first time he had ransacked her office was any indication. The career criminal had never seen so many empty bottles cluttered in one area in his life and he couldn't help but wonder if he had driven the poor female fox to drink or if that had been some anti-theft measure.

Cheeses Crackers only knew how distracted he'd been just smashing them all in a rather sudden bout of OCD to discover if they had coins in them or not.

Swishing the contents around in his mouth and getting a definitive sensation of the wine's taste, the raccoon eventually swallowed the mouthful of champagne the vulpine policewoman had shared with him. "Not bad," he finally admitted as he offered the long-neck bottle of green glass to the woman sitting next to him. He personally preferred a hard lemonade but, "I can understand why you were saving it for my capture... it's truly bittersweet."

The orange-pelted fox nodded, taking the bottle back from him to have her own taste... but not before wiping off the opening.

"Aww... no indirect kisses, Inspector?" Sly asked teasingly.

"Who knows what else you may have purloined in your years," she teased back, before putting her mouth over the top and tilting her head back...

...Followed by her suffering a coughing fit.

A chuckle reverberated in the ring-tailed rascal's chest. "All that time saving the bottle but you never took the time to learn how to properly drink it?" He queried sweetly.

Coughing and hacking a few times, the woman forcefully replied, "I kah~cough! I can drink!" She nodded her head for emphasis before she brought the bottle back to her lips and took a more conservative sip.

Smiling as he watched her, the gentleman thief raised an eyebrow above the edge of his mask. "So... that's the plan? We land and you take me in while we're both drunk?" He tilted his head back as he considered such. "You know, that would be an interesting way to cap off the Cooper Legacy! Drunk and having gotten to third base with his arresting officer..."

The vixen began coughing again at the masked mammal's suggestion. "Thuh-third!?" She gasped, slapping her chest to try and get her lungs working once more.

Sly calmly nodded. "Even drunk, you'd never let me hit a homerun during the first date."

Glaring as she finished forcing the last bits of champagne from her lungs, the vulpine then snarled at him. "So you think you'd get to third, huh?"

The raccoon just grinned at her as he took note of her not denying this was indeed a date. "Have I mentioned I'm not wearing any pants?" He pointedly reminded the policewoman.

Carmelita twitched. "Plenty of times... speaking of which, just what the hell is the Cooper Gang's deal with the ongoing crusade against pants!?" She queried firmly as she pointed the bottle of champagne at the raccoon in an accusatory manner. "You, Bentley, Murray... none of you wear pants! What do you think you are? Japanese!?"

Smirking, the raccoon said, "Hey now! Just because male Japanese animals have a tendency to only wear gloves and shoes doesn't mean it's JUST them that do such..." he trailed off as he took the bottle of champagne from the vixen sitting next to him. Left unsaid was that he did have a rather prominent Japanese ancestor in Rioichi Cooper... who had more than a few stories about his own pants-less adventures in his pursuit of the technique, 'Balls of the Tanuki'. "At least you can give me credit for having the common sense to wear shoes!" He raised a leg and showed off his boot-covered foot; rolling it in a semi-circular motion on the axis of the ankle. "Can't get anywhere without a good pair of boots, unlike what some of those American furs seem to think!"

Watching the other mammal begin to drink, Carmelita snorted in annoyance. "I see enough animals around the world who forgo footwear... it's not JUST an American thing," she pointed out, feeling a little less racist for calling out the Japanese when Sly was so quick to stereotype the land of the free. She then tilted her head, allowing the raccoon a moment to drink from the bottle before pointing out, "And you still haven't told me why you don't wear pants."

Pulling the bottle from his lips with an audible pop, the ring-tailed thief turned his head to look at the woman sitting next to him. "Do you really want to know?" Seeing the woman nod her head in affirmation, the masked mammal let off a small sigh. "The truth is Bentley and I do it out of solidarity with Murray." At the confused look on her face, he explained, "We can't find a pair of pants that fit him and forgo them ourselves to make him feel better."

Eyebrow raised, Carmelita looked from Sly, to the bottle, and back again. "This stuff must be stronger than I thought or laced with something. It sounded like you just admitted that the reason you go sans pants ... is because your friend can't find any in their size."

Slowly, the masked mammal nodded his head in confirmation. "That's exactly what I said, my dear Inspector Fox," the raccoon told her. "And I also feel a little bit insulted that you think I would drug you in any way, shape, or form." He straightened up his posture, smirking at her in a mischievous fashion. "I'll have you know, Carmelita, that when I steal the greatest treasure in this world–your heart–you will be in your right mind... or at least under the legal limit." He gave her a cheeky grin with that last bit.

The woman rolled her eyes at that comment but still... it was rather strange reasoning to be certain. "Seriously? You don't wear pants to spare the feelings of the... er..." she trailed off, thinking of how to gently put this. "The most broad-framed member of your gang?"

Again, Sly nodded his head in a positive fashion. "Exactly. Murray hides it well but the fact he can't wear pants hurts him more than anything..." left unsaid was such was partially to blame for the hippo's cross-dressing tendencies as well–dresses could cover his bulk properly. "Speaking of which, what about you?"

Carmelita blinked her eyes once, twice. "Huh? What about me?" The vulpine beauty asked as she noticed the raccoon offering the drink back to her. Accepting the champagne bottle, the Hispanic policewoman took another drink.

"You know... pants. How come you wear them?" He smiled as, to Carmelita's credit, she didn't start coughing. She did, however, start thumping her chest with her left fist to make sure her mouthful of champagne went down the right way... and oh, how her vixen breasts bounced magnificently when she did that!

Glaring at him, she responded to his ill-timed query with, "I wear pants because I am an officer of the law, as well as a civilized person."

"Murray is civilized... ish," Sly offered.

The vixen let off a snort of disbelief. "And yet you never thought to take him to a professional tailor and get him some clothes designed for his uniquely large frame?" She asked in all seriousness. With all the cash they stole, a pair of pants shouldn't have been out of the question!

The captive criminal merely shrugged. "Gang of thieves, remember?" Sly explained. "Now, granted, we stayed around some places for him to do that, but really, who wants to drop that kind of cash on a set of clothes you may or may not be able to get, and may or may not be useable where you are headed." He tilted his head, staring at the female red fox in a tired fashion. "And FYI? I've seen plenty of law enforcement who went without pants... especially some who really, really shouldn't have." The oddest that came to mind were a pair of private investigators who were either brothers, cousins, or related in ways he didn't want to consider.

But damn if those chipmunks hadn't been incredibly skilled at tracking people! They'd come to closest to capturing him, aside from Carmelita.

The blue-tressed vulpine considered that for a moment, having some empathy for the raccoon. "Well, hopefully... with me letting them go, your friends can start over. Get new identities, work towards new lives, purchase themselves some pants..." she turned her head to look at Sly. "Speaking of which, we should get you a pair ASAP. In prison, inmates that go around without them tend to end up becoming currency."

The master thief merely chuckled at the policewoman's warning. "Please! You act as if I'm actually going to prison."

Her eyebrows furrowing in newfound anger, the canid cop glared at her captive as she firmly told him, "Because you are."

Again, a small laugh reverberated in the masked mammal's throat. "Now, my dear Inspector," he said, as he took the bottle back from her and took a swig. "You seem to be counting your chickens before they're hatched. You have arrested me but you have yet to get me booked and locked up. For all you know, this might be some deceptively clever plan of mine to escape."

The woman rolled her eyes, feeling put off by the other mammal's belligerence. "And yet you are still here," she responded, taking the bottle back from him and taking a sip.

Sadly for her, Sly was still timing his words for when she was mid-gulp, if only to see her chest jiggle and wiggle as she coughed–it was a sight that made him just so darned happy. "Maybe I stayed behind to convince you to run away with me?"

He was not disappointed.

After she got over her coughing fit, the woman sputtered out in an unceremonious fashion, "Wuh-WHAT!?" She glared at him. "WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU ESTUPIDO CULO!?" Her ears pulling back taut against her scalp as she growled at him, the vixen firmly told him, "Sorry to burst your bubble, Cooper but there's no way in heaven or hell I would willingly turn to a life of crime! Especially not for some el cabrón like you!" She snarled as she brought her right hand forward, poking him in the chest.

Raising both his hands in a warding fashion, the raccoon kept the smile on his face. "I mean it, Carm! I've seen you handle yourself on your own. You took down any enemy that got in your way... lived on your own while travelling across continents–which is NOT easy in this modern information age," he said meaningfully. "Not to mention I saw you hotwire a tank! A TANK!" He praised. "Now that takes some real skill!"

The woman blushed a bit, not expecting this kind of praise. "Hotwire, yes. However, I couldn't drive the damn thing to save my life. Your friends still caught up with and took the Clockwerk eye from me."

"Speaking of which, Bentley WAS upset when you shot him down with said tank. Last time I heard him squeal like that was the first time I broke into your office," he admitted with a roguish smile plastered on his face. "But you did walk on the other side of the line, Inspector. You got to see how the other half lived–that being my half, not the half with the Fiendish Five or those Klaww Gang goons." Returning his focus back to her, the smile never left his face. "And I know you enjoyed it," he said, sitting beside her as he took the bottle. "You may not want to admit it–even to yourself–but you got the same thrill I did."

The Hispanic vulpine waited until he was drinking before she responded. "So maybe then you'd like to try the reverse; want to try being a member of law enforcement?"

Despite the waste of her victory champagne, she took pride in actually seeing the man spit out the alcohol all over onto his side of his helicopter. "Ouch. That must have been painful," she said in such a sinister sweet and innocent way that practically beamed, 'I'm so innocent, butter won't melt in my mouth'.

Coughing and hacking, the raccoon turned his head to gaze at the vixen. "Okay... there's joking and then there's crossing the line!" He said in all seriousness. "Why would I ever become a police officer? I've seen what you do! It's like... what, five forms of paperwork per crime!?"

"Non-violent crimes," Carmelita replied. Relaxing a bit in her seat, the red fox went on to continue to explain, "It's fifteen forms for violent crimes and then an extra tree forms per weapon or piece and extra five per victim discovered on the scene... and don't get me started on how many forms need to be filled out and filed if narcotics are involved!" God knew how much practice she'd gotten with those forms thanks to all the 'Spice' she had been dealing with since the whole Klaww Gang mess started.

Giving the woman a half-lidded stare, the ring-tailed male responded with a rather monotone if not sarcastic drone, "Thrilling."

The vulpine looked a little insulted. "What do you expect? Still, you should realize that there is more to law enforcement than pushing paperwork, Ringtail," she responded, taking the bottle back, noticing there was little more than half left. "Imagine what someone like you could do if you used your skills for good!"

Sly rolled his eyes, obviously nonplussed by the concept. "No thanks, Carmelita. It was that same 'good' side of the Law that ended up chasing you for a crime you didn't commit... although they have also seemed to have forgiven you for the ones you did commit." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Say what you will but I'd like to think my gang and I were a lot more honest with each other than that."

Although she twitched in annoyance at the implications, the Latina spitfire chose not to comment on it. "Still, it's as I said. You do have skills, Cooper... and you definitely enjoy taking down criminals. What would it have taken to get you to actually try and do something with your life and take you down the path of law and order?"

Bringing his right gloved paw up to rub his chin, the ring-tailed thief considered the woman's inquiry for a moment. "Maybe having the police actually attempt to find my family's killers instead of tossing me into an orphanage for nearly a decade would have been a good start," he finally bit out nastily. Seeing the woman wince, he did soften a little and try to ease the blow with a bit of teasing. "Although these days? I could think of one thing that would make me try to become an Interpol agent like you."

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity high enough that it disappeared into her hairline, the female red fox queried, "Que? What would that be, Ringtail?"

Smirking in a most devious manner, he sweetly replied, "If you turned your jeans in for a skirt."

Staring at him for a moment, she decided to let that comment go, while making a note to reopen his father's case to see if there had been any investigation done into it. She at least owed him that, considering he was going to be occupied for the next fifteen-to-twenty if not longer. And while she felt a bit guilty for what was occurring now, she swore an oath, and she took it very seriously. "The same could be said about you. If you don't have any pants, some of the rougher boys in the yard may take a chance on you... and not in the good way."

The raccoon groaned as she evaded responding to his comment. "Yeah, you mentioned that..." he murmured before smirking again. "Honestly though, it's a family thing," he repeated. "Murray and Bentley... they are all I have for family. And that's the sort of decision we made as a group that makes everyone comfortable, even if people outside of our little group aren't..." though lord knew he often caught Neyla staring. Tilting his head back so his scalp touched the interior wall of the helicopter, he told her, "Honestly, I think to get me into a pair of pants, I would need to try and form a new family. Find a good woman and have a couple of kids."

The vulpine woman considered those words. "Basically, you think being a father would make you have to be a good role model." It wasn't a question.

"And in the meantime, I would want to hide what only my girlfriend or wife should be seeing," he stated in all seriousness. "Currently I am a free agent now but if I ever settle down with Mrs. Right–or Mrs. Right-at-the-Moment–I think it would be best to keep her goods under wraps."

Rolling her eyes while taking another sip, the Latina vixen decided to query his little dream/come-on. "You really think you could settle down and be a respectable member of society, give up your family legacy, and all it would take would be finding the right woman?"

His chest puffing with pride, the raccoon offered Carmelita a firm nod of his head. "Of course!" Sly chirruped energetically. "The love of a good woman has been known to change many a good animals into better men."

Tilting her head as she looked at the man with a curious gaze, the Hispanic vulpine couldn't help but ask with a skeptical tone, "And you would give up a life of crime?"

The masked mammal merely offered the policewoman a shrug of his shoulders. Finally, after a moment of introspection, he explained, "Well, it would be extremely difficult to have a stable home life if you're worried about your children seeing dear old Dad being on TV or the police showing up at your door."

The vulpine woman nodded at that, having never known the thief had ever had such thoughts. I guess Sly really has matured after all these years... she thought in wonder.

It was at that moment Cooper's mischievous grin blossomed across his muzzle once more. "Then again," he began in a far more energetic tone. "There is something to be said about learning on the road, a life of travel to exotic locales and strange places, where the kids can learn useful skills from their Old Man..."

...And there went said moment. Still, the Interpol Inspector did offer, "You can't be on the run forever. With how hard we work ourselves, our bodies are bound to be aching for a nice chair or desk job by the time you or I are in our fifties. I know Barkley was practically begging to finally accept that job as Commissioner when he finished teaching me everything he knew... it's a hard life on either side of the law."

The ring-tailed rascal opened his mouth... only to pause, frowning as he snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. "Huh... come to think of it, 'retirement' has never been a thing for Coopers. Our lives usually came to an end at the cold metallic talons of Clockwerk. With you destroying him for good, I might just be the first of my lineage to actually live to see old age..."

"Unless you get shanked in prison," Carmelita helpfully pointed out, reminding him that despite all they had been through she still wasn't letting him off the hook.

"Again with this prison thing," he said, rolling his eyes. "Between you wanting to get me into pants and talk about some ne'er-do-well doing some very bad things to me in prison, I must say I am a bit concerned about the signals you are sending me."

The vixen turned her head to meet the raccoon's stare with her own. "You are going to prison," she stated firmly, brooking no room for argument.

Fortunately, the raccoon wasn't the argumentative sort. "So you keep saying," he replied with a disinterested drawl before taking the moment to lean in close. "Should I be asking what I can do to get off for good behavior, Warden Fox?" He practically chirred.

She blinked her eyes. Whether he was actually asking her for help or being a smarmy bastard as he often liked to be, she decided to give him a hand. "Well, I could put in a good word for you. However, you have been committing crimes for more than four years now, Cooper. There is NO getting around that. But if I mention the parts you played in taking down of even more villainous criminal scum, I might be able to mitigate the extent of time they'd have you behind bars... a couple of decades is a lot less than a life sentence if not multiple life sentences."

"YEESH!" The raccoon gasped. "You make it sound like I murdered someone!"

Her ears pressing back against her scalp, Carmelita stared at him.

"...Hey, I merely tried to kill Clockwerk," Sly stated in his defense. "In the end, that one was all on you, my dear Inspector Fox."

Shaking her head in annoyance, the red vixen merely handed Cooper the bottle in an attempt to shut him up to get him to listen. "There is hardly any statute dealing with villains well into their fifth millennia or smashing a computer chip."

The career criminal raised a curious eyebrow at the woman's justification of her actions. "Oh really? Even if it had his brain if not soul coded onto it?"

The vulpine shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant manner, much like the master thief had been. "For all I know, it was a telemarketer's call list... and I sure as hell don't see you complaining about it." Nodding her head towards him hard enough for emphasis that she caused her navy blue tresses to bob, the vixen then firmly told the master thief, "He was also more machine than animal at this point. Do you feel anything when you dump your cell phones for a new one?"

Shaking his head in a good-natured fashion as a chuckle reverberated in his throat, Sly then calmly replied, "First off, we know for a fact Neyla was part of that thing. Secondly, who can trust those things? Binocucoms are the way to go!"

Carmelita couldn't help but wince when Cooper brought up that fact. It was true. Neyla had merged herself with the Clockwerk frame, becoming that despicable automaton in the end. "The ex-Captain had a lot to answer for... that she killed herself to become part of a machine is something that, once again, falls under there being no statute or precedence to fall back on. I had to make a judgment call."

"Yeah," the ring-tailed thief chirruped in agreement. "I'll give you that one, Carm. And frankly I don't blame you for it." Realizing they had almost finished off the bottle, Sly turned his gaze back towards her. "So, what shall we talk about now? The champagne is almost gone but we seem to have taken several depressing turns in our conversation. We need something happy and fun before we finish this off."

The vixen considered that a bit. It's true. That conversation did turn into a downer... and things were going to get that much more real when she actually processed him. Fuck it, she thought as she turned her head to look at the raccoon. "Well, if you want, I suppose a kiss wouldn't hurt..."

The grin that split across the raccoon's muzzle threatened to engulf his entire head.

The vulpine policewoman then glared at him, "BUT!" She barked out, snapping the mischievous felon back to reality. "If you handcuff me like you did the first time we kissed, I will kick your ring-tailed butt from here to Australia and back again! Got it!?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the masked mammal chuckled. "Oh Carmelita... what kind of man do you take me for?"

Her eyes narrowing, she angrily reminded him, "You handcuffed me to the rickety railing of a work platform on the inside of a volcano and left me without a key. I almost died, Cooper!"

The masked mammal scoffed. "Oh please! You act like you were in any danger," Sly replied, waving off the vixen's irritation. "If it didn't explode or fall apart during our battle with Clockwerk, did you really think it would afterwards?"

"YES!" The vixen screamed with enough force to cause the brim of the man's hat to flip up.

As his cap gently fell back into place after the yelling stopped, Sly blinked his eyes once, twice, thrice. "...Huh," he murmured before bringing his left hand up to idly scratch his chin. "I totally misread that situation," he admitted before shrugging his shoulder. "But then again, you were ready to arrest me, also on a rickety platform in an active volcano." He narrowed his eyes as he meaningfully pointed out, "And if worst came to worst, I would have had to escape with my hands literally tied behind my back..."

"I wouldn't have allowed you to fall into lava," she promised him. "Afterwards, I would have commandeered your van and driven us out while I had you and your friends restrained in the back. After all, I got in there with a jet-pack! I might be able to have carried you and/or Bentley out on my own power but Murray was a no go!"

The raccoon let off a laugh. "See? THAT would have brought you closer to death than being left handcuffed to some damaged scaffolding inside a volcano..." he trailed off as he considered something. "Then again, I felt you were in more danger when I got you to fall into a frozen river in China and allowed the current to take you down the mountain. Despite my worries of you coming down with hypothermia, you came back from that pretty quickly."

Growling at the memory of the trouble he gave her in China... the soaking, the freezing, the pain from hitting rocks and large shards of ice... the now thoroughly annoyed vulpine Inspector turned away from him with a huff. "Yeah. Thanks for reminding me of just how much of a culo indiferente you really are! I guess you don't want that kiss then..."

Realizing his screw-up, Sly placed her hands on her shoulders, quickly massaging her as he frantically told her, "Oh, but I do! I do, I do, I do, I really, REALLY DO!"

"...Not feeling it," she replied as she waved the criminal off.

The master thief slunk to his knees, inching closer to her. "Please! Pretty please! Pretty please with sugar and organic cherries on top!"

Chuckling lightly at how sad and pathetic he looked, trying to earn a single kiss from her, the vixen decided to put off any anger she might have felt for him. He did save her ass a few times over the last year they were on the run. "Fine... but only one kiss."

The raccoon looked up at her with eyes filled with hope despite being tinged with worry. "You mean on the lips, right?" He asked sweetly. "And it won't end with a kiss on my head, followed by a Taser to the guts, or anything else like that?"

Shaking her head to inform him it wouldn't, she then spoke softly as she looked at the raccoon posed as if he were ready to propose to her. "I promise you dirty Ringtail, this is a kiss. On the lips. You and me. No funny business whatsoever."

She had to force herself to keep from smiling as Sly straightened up and started performing the age-old, 'Snoopy Dance' that had been popular with American beagles during the 1960's and '70's. Still, to hide the fact he caught her off-guard, the vixen calmly asked, "Cooper, what do you think you're doing?"

"Why, my victory dance, of course!" He said as his feet seemingly raced back and forth in place as he tilted back his head and held his arms out to the sides, waving his limbs back and forth as if he just didn't care.

The vulpine woman blinked her eyes once, twice. Good Lord, I don't even want to know what he would do if I allowed Cooper to get to third base. "Settle down," she kindly chided. "Now are you ready?" She asked him sweetly.

Sly nodded his head rapidly, practically knocking his own hat off.

Finishing off the bottle, the lovely Latina smiled at him in a seductive manner. She then slowly leaned forward, eyes closing...

*THUD*!

"...Ouch..." she grumbled irritably as she winced, the turbulence that shook the helicopter having caused them to fall to the floor.

When she opened her eyes again, the vulpine policewoman noticed Cooper was now hovering above her, arms on either side of her... and that he was missing the rest of his clothes.

Her shock grew as she looked at herself... and noticed she was in the same state. Did that dirty Ringtails just steal my clothes!?

"Carmelita?" He asked huskily, as he closed in on her lips.

The Hispanic vixen's eyes went wide. She didn't know what to do!

"I want you to know something," he whispered, his lips mere millimeters from her own. "Ring!"

Now the woman's lashes fluttered as she blinked her eyes in rapid succession "…Ring?" She asked in confusion.

"Ring!" Went Sly again.

Eyes blinking, Carmelita growled. "Oh—"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*Ring*!

"...Joderme..." was the vixen's tired and slightly muffled response as she blinked her right eye a number of times, unable to do so with her left. She lifted her head a bit to figure out what was going on, only to wince as she discovered the pillowcase stuck to her facial fur. "Que en el mundo?" She queried softly as she pushed her hand down, peeling it from her face with a wince as she did so. In freeing herself, the canid woman's nostrils were assaulted with the scent of old sweat and saliva.

She'd been drooling in her sleep.

*Ring*!

She blinked her brown eyes again as her waking consciousness began to rev up. Realizing she was hearing her cell phone, the vulpine woman reached her right arm out for the device she left atop the nightstand. Her fingers pressing down now and then as her hand hovered above the piece to bedroom furniture before she eventually grasped the piece of cellular communication. Picking it up, the Hispanic woman brought it to her face, looking at the front screen. It was just past five pm. "Ugh... guess I should be thankful..." she murmured to herself. At least now she could make something of the evening and possibly sleep through the night. I just can't believe I slept the afternoon away... she thought with a bit of annoyance.

*Ring*!

Staring at her phone, the woman cursed as she realized that, yes, it probably WOULD be a good idea to answer the damn thing. So sliding her thumb over the screen, the woman unlocked its functionary aspects. Frowning as she saw a number she didn't recognize, she still hit the answer button that showed up along the plastic surface of said screen, wanting to figure out what was going on. Hearing the audible beeping that signified she had answered the phone, the vulpine officer brought it to the side of her head. "Hola," she said in greeting. "Inspector Fox speaking..."

"Carmelita," came a gruff voice the woman immediately recognized as that of Chief Idriis M'Bogo. "Where are you?" The tone was demanding but there seemed to be a hint of urgency to it as well.

The woman sighed. She could only imagine what bullshit he had to drop in her lap this time. "I'm just waking up, Sir," the Hispanic vixen replied as she brought a hand to her face and rubbed at her eyes to clear away the last vestiges of sleep. Rising her body up into a sitting position, the off-duty canid asked, "What's wrong? No offense, Chief but you sound worried."

The herbivore didn't answer her inquiry. "I repeat," the cape buffalo began once more on his end of the line. "Where. Are. You?"

That made the woman blinked her eyes once, then twice. She stared down at her cell for a moment before bringing it back up to the side of her head. "I'm at Mrs. Honey Badger's residence; it's a farm in—"

"The Happy Town District?" The deep baritone voice of the Chief of the Zootopia Police Department interrupted her.

The man's sudden inquiry made the vixen pause once again for a moment. "Y-yes, actually" she replied, surprised that he was quick to suggest such. The vulpine woman didn't think she had told her superior her location before but then again the ebony-skinned herbivore was friends with her own boss, Commissioner Barkley. The old badger knew the whole story so perhaps he had told the African buffalo. "How did you—"

"I homed in on the tracking device that's implanted into your cruiser," he offered before the woman could finish speaking. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "All the ZPD vehicles are equipped with them both as an anti-theft measure as well as other reasons... you can thank Internal Affairs for that monitoring measure. At the moment, I'm standing by your squad car on land that looks like a farm out in this abandoned area. Would you be so kind as to let me in?"

"Ah, I see..." Carmelita said slowly in understanding. She looked over herself and sighed. While not as undressed as she normally was for bed, the female red fox wasn't exactly what she would consider being ready for company. "Can you wait maybe five more minutes? I'm not exactly decent at the moment."

There was a pause on the other side for a moment before it offered, if not commanded, "You have three."

Two and a half minutes later, Carmelita, dressed in a white tank top and black denim biker shorts, opened the door of the farmhouse, allowing the police chief entry. "Hola!" The woman greeted pleasantly enough. "Am I to assume that something important happened?" She asked as she looked up at the much larger prey mammal. He was dressed in full uniform and a black duster coat that looked as though it had seen better days. The Latina watched as he ducked his head and turned his body to the side, maneuvering himself in through the much smaller–in that it was both shorter and narrower–door before straightening up on the other side with her before holding something in a plastic bag out to her. "What is this?" She asked as her eyes looked down at the solid white baggy.

"Take it and see for yourself," the larger man said as he turned his torso once more slightly, using his other hooved hand to gently grasp the door handle and close it shut behind him. "It's a little something from Precinct Fourteen's Deputy Chief Alekseevich; I made some calls and he had something on hand in approximation to your size so you'll have something to use while we wait for the Acquisition Request Office to get back to you formally."

Blinking her eyes at that statement, the vixen felt her fingers along the surface of the bag; the pressure beneath revealed to her that the contents were both pliable yet firm. Opening the plastic bag outright, the Hispanic red fox came to find it was, "Another armored vest." Although it was in black, it was definitely close to her size and emblazoned with the badge of the Zootopia Police Department over the left breast much like her blue one had been.

Allowing the woman a few seconds to inspect the piece of equipment for herself, the cape buffalo nodded his head as he admitted, "Granted, the vest isthe Tundratown District police's colors but it's still ZPD regalia. No one should bat an eye if you need to use it for a few days or even a few weeks, depending on how long it takes Acquisitions to get back to you."

Left unsaid was the only reason they even had one close to Officer Fox's size was that it had belonged to a bubbly blonde Arctic minx who was more than happy to loan it out while she continued to work the front desk.

Continuing to look the piece of armor over, the woman replied, "Really? Well that's nice of them. Are the Tundratown police that welcoming?" She asked while she raised a hand up to scratch the side of her head in confusion. Not that the lovely Latina was complaining, oh heavens no! She just wanted to know why they would go out of their way for her. Hopefully it was because the department just wanted to help a fellow officer out and not due to Kozlov threatening mammals into doing what he wanted.

The much larger mammal let out a grunt in response. "After they got through studying it, Forensics let me know that the one you had been originally issued is no longer viable. It took a number of ten millimeter slugs during your altercation with Mr. Pig at the Cash Cow in the Downtown District. It held up for as long as it needed to but it's beyond salvage. So I put in the request for a few more in your size so you have them on hand but for the time being I had to search around to see if ANY of the Departments had one... ironically, it was the Precinct I had just visited this afternoon that had something they could offer. An Officer Aleutian was more than willing to lend you one of hers..." he smirked. "After all, you gave them the opening to take care of a proverbial thorn that had been in their side for quite some time." The small smile near-instantly turned back to a frown as he explained, "The Velveteen brothers."

Finally looking up from the protective garment, Carmelita stared up at her superior officer in confusion. What? When did I... her line of thinking trailed off as she frowned in return. "Does this have to do with a pair of ruffian rabbits that I had to deal with this morning?" She hadn't thought much of them but the name was now tickling at the back of her mind.

But at least this much made sense. It had been awhile since her clothes had gotten that torn up in a fire fight after all and if she aided the police of that district, even unknowingly, they would be more apt to help her.

"The very same," Chief Bogo calmly replied.

Nodding her head, the Latina vulpine let off a snort. "I should have known. It seems everyone of importance in Tundratown is a renowned criminal in one form or another." She shook her head with undisguised disgust, especially since she had ended up becoming entangled with the Kholodno Bratva because of such. "So let me guess? Were they hired snitches? Thieves? Racketeers? Gigolos?" Considering how flagrantly wild they were dressed, the canid cop would have bet good money on that last one.

Taking a deep breath, the police chief's chest expanded considerably; the buttons on his shirt straining to keep themselves in place as the wall of muscle behind them pressed forward. Exhaling slowly, the African buffalo told her, "It would be best if we go further into the house." He turned his head to look at the window that let light directly into the house's living room. "I believe it would be best to sit down before we continue further... where no one can see us."

Sighing, Carmelita could only wonder what landmine she had stepped on this time. "Come to the kitchen," the vulpine woman said as she motioned behind her as she raised her right hand and thumbed over her shoulder. Turning about fully, she began to walk towards the open door frame into the culinary area as she told him, "I'll put on a pot of coffee."

Following after the woman, he told her, "That would be for the best." As the buff bovidae entered the kitchen, he looked about the room for a moment before making his way over to the table. As he looked over the booth, deciding how to best actually get into it, he added, "To be honest, I would have more respect for them than I do if they were gigolos."

The woman blinked her eyes at that comment, now genuinely curious as to what was going on. Still, she would wait for the time being before getting into the thick of things as she did promise him a cup of coffee. Such amounted to bringing out Honey's 1955 Presto coffee percolator and loading it with water and the pre-ground coffee beans.

Doing his best to slide himself into the rounded booth that surrounded the kitchen table, the ebony-skinned herbivore was more than a little displeased to find the furniture was bolted to the ground, causing his rock-hard abs to grind up against the edge of said table. I should have gotten a chair, he thought with a little annoyance. Still, he was going to deal with it; no use complaining. Raising his left arm, the buffalo reached his right hand over his chest to the pocket sewn into the interior lining of his coat for the file he had tucked away there. The information he had was too important for him to whine over the little inconsequential aspects of life.

Although the African buffalo suspected that if he took too deep a breath he would break the table. And for some reason, the thought of that made him mentally shudder; that fear that he would be destroying a part of history! "This entire place feels like a throwback to the old days," Bogo muttered as he looked around the room once more as he took stock of the style of decor and appliances. "And I mean the actual good parts of the old days."

As she allowed the coffee to come to a boil, the vulpine looked over her shoulder... she couldn't help but smirk as she saw him gazing about the kitchen with a badly disguised look of delight. "I felt the same way when I first saw it too. Trust me, Chief, none of this is retro or refitted... this is all the original stuff."

Placing the paperwork down on the table, the man sighed. "...Makes me feel like we should be placing a call to the American Pickers," he couldn't help but comment as his deep brown eyes gazed about the decorations of the room. It was somewhat Spartan in just what was on display but everything in the kitchen was quality work.

The vixen let out a bark of laughter at that. "I doubt Honey would enjoy having more mammals in her home. Hell, I'm surprised Nick managed to talk the badger into allowing me to stay!" While she had managed to build up some camaraderie with the older carnivore at this point, it was painfully obvious to the lovely Latina that the middle-aged mustelidae wouldn't have had anything to do with her if her fellow red fox hadn't been so insistent on her behalf. "Heck, I feel if it wasn't for the fact you're the Chief of Police, she probably wouldn't want you here either."

Bogo nodded his head. "Because she doesn't want people to know that she's living in a bunker." The man's tone of voice let his subordinate know it was a statement rather than a question.

That caused the vixen to pause in her brewing. Turning about from the stove completely as to face her current boss, the Interpol Inspector couldn't help but query, "You know about that?"

Nodding his head firmly in affirmation, the beefy bovine let off a grunt as he did. "Of course I do. This is the woman that does my taxes."

"..." Carmelita blinked her eyes once, twice, thrice.

Noting the perplexed expression on the woman's face, the ebony-skinned herbivore breathed deeply. "It was Officer Clawhauser's idea," he explained. "I wouldn't have known about her at all if it weren't for him." Admittedly, he was rather glad he took the chubby cheetah up on his offer. Mrs. Badger was far more reliable than the accountants at Herbivore & Rodent Block had been, of that much he was certain.

"I see," the orange-pelted vulpine replied as her eyes gazed about to the tabletop. "So... may I ask what's in the file?" Carmelita queried as the coffee continued to brew. It was hard to miss the set of documents. She knew they had to be the horned herbivore's, seeing as the folder hadn't been there before the chief's arrival.

"Something we need to talk about..." he said firmly. "But I'll let you finish making our coffee first. I don't want you getting distracted. If this stuff IS from the Fifties, I doubt it's up to modern fire code standards."

"...You're right, it's probably not. Knowing my luck, it will explode if you don't treat it right," Carmelita huffed; she couldn't argue the man's logic. "Besides that, what do you want anything in your coffee?" She asked as she turned her attention back to the steel container that was turning red at its base, the glass cap slowly cycling bubbling drips of heated darkened water.

"Just a sugar or two, packet or cube," the man replied honestly. He frowned as he could feel his phone vibrating as he had it on silent, but he chose to ignore it for now. He could only imagine that it was more of the same; it had been a couple of years since he had left his office in Precinct One for any considerable amount of time during working hours.

Nodding her head to the request, the vulpine was quick to ask, "Will agave do?" She wasn't much for granular sugar and Nick couldn't find any liquid for her, so she went for her old standby for substitute: cactus nectar.

"...Sure," the buffalo said slowly, not sure what agave was but sure as hache-ee-double-hockey-sticks hoping it wasn't an artificial sweetener.

The woman smiled and nodded her head firmly enough that it caused her mane of navy blue tresses to bob with the motion. "Coming right up!" She chirruped sweetly.

A few minutes later the coffee was made, the Agave added, and Carmelita handed it to Chief Bogo. "So..." she began as the man accepted the cup with his hooved hands. "May I know what's in the file now?" She carefully requested as second time, her bright brown eyes drawn to the manila folder held closed with a pair of paperclips.

This time she did indeed get an answer. "A case Precinct One had to deal with this afternoon in conjunction with Precinct Six in the Downtown District," he said in all seriousness. "There was a firebombing."

The vixen tensed up a little at that response. "Dios bueno..." the Inspector whispered in her native tongue as she shook her head in sympathy. "Is anyone hurt?"

The horned herbivore just looked at her firmly. "Before we go into this, allow me to make one thing perfectly clear. I was called into District Fourteen... aka 'Fourteen-Below' this morning because I had to deal with the aftermath of the altercation you had at the Snow Palace Resort. Remember when I said, I would have been prouder of those two if they were just male prostitutes? Well, you know what they are instead?" He waited for Carmelita to slip into the booth with him before telling her, "Bankers."

The woman blinked her eyes at him, a little confused by that answer. "...Bankers are worse than prostitutes?" She queried, not seeing the correlation.

The herbivore grunted. "In this case, yes. As for why, you guess who their father is," Chief Bogo replied... before blinking his eyes in shock as Carmelita started banging her head against the tabletop as she cursed in Spanish. "...I take it you've already figured it out." Again, the mammal's statement wasn't a question.

"I swear to God, there are more landmines in this town than had been planted in Vietnam!" She cursed angrily. Bringing her right hand up to rub her forehead and try to avert an oncoming migraine she could feel forming, the vulpine woman ground her teeth in aggravation. "So now a Councilman is pissed off that I defended myself against his bastard children, huh?"

Taking a sip of his coffee for a moment, the police chief shook his head. "Surprisingly, no," the water buffalo began calmly as he placed his cup down on the table before turning his gaze towards at his aggravated officer. "He's actually infuriated that because of them attacking you, an officer and current civil servant of Zootopia... it's sticking."

Blinking her eyes a couple of times at the man's response, Carmelita turned her gaze to look up at the much taller mammal. "...Pardon?" She queried, making sure she heard that properly

Nodding his head, the muscular herbivore confirmed, "Quite. Apparently, despite being the sons of the owner of the Tundratown District's most prominent bank... you had all kinds of mammals coming out of the woodworks... or in this case, snow dunes... to give testimony in your defense. Literally, two dozen eyewitness accounts and even hotel staff even graciously supplied its security footage. Everything matched up. You were roughly manhandled and defended yourself from the eldest son and assaulted by the younger with a deadly weapon. So despite them being children of one of the members of the City Council..." he managed to smile, even if only a little. "Justice is being served."

The Hispanic vulpine visibly relaxed at that. "Well that's good," she replied before letting off a sigh of relief, the woman surprised to discover she'd been holding her breath. "I was worried the other shoe was going to drop on my head or something for a second there."

At those words, a frown graced the much larger mammal's face, tugging firmly at the corners of the bovine's face. "That is what this report is about..." he said in all seriousness as he placed his hooved hand down atop of it and slid it closer to the vixen. "Take a look through the info and tell me if anything stands out to you."

Gazing down at the offered manila folder, the woman's lips pulled back against her muzzle to form a frown of her own. Placing her right hand atop of it, the woman allowed the chief a moment to remove his hooves before she pulled it to her the rest of the way. Picking it up in her hands, the vulpine woman flipped the lid open and her eyes skimmed over the report.

Almost immediately, the vixen's vision had that overlapping haze she'd come to know as her Inspector's Intuition kick in. Orange lights sparkled over certain words and even emphasized a couple of the photos that were included. She didn't immediately read the report but instead grabbed one of the pictures included as part of the file's contents... and her eyes widened with recognition. "Flamingle Flats?"

Pleased to see the woman near-instantly picked up on what he needed her to, the Chief of the ZPD explained, "Yes. Flamingle Flats had been firebombed two hours ago, around three o'clock this afternoon."

"...Why would anyone firebomb that—" the Interpol Inspector cut herself off as understanding hit her like a sack of bricks. "Wait! Flamingle Flats! That's the condo I was supposed to... be... staying..." Carmelita trailed off as she realized just what her superior officer was angling at. Letting off a small sigh, the woman looked up at Bogo in resignation. "Someone was gunning for me, weren't they?"

Nodding his head, Idriis said, "I personally had to deal with Captain Alekseevich and a very annoyed and angry Councilman Velveteen who promised me, 'this wasn't over'... and within three hours of THAT meeting we had, this happened!" He motioned to the folder. "And as you can see the source of the explosion was from incendiary devices that were, of all the housing in the complex, planted in the condo I had paid for your stay. Your name was still on the registry."

The woman's left ear twitched in irritation. Such was pretty damning and it angered her to think some mammal had the gall to think they could get away with cold blooded murder. "I take it that my staying here is off the record?"

"Off the record," he confirmed. "Hell, if something happened to this place, Officer Clawhauser would personally break someone." There was no way that Bogo was going to let anyone know she was living here if this was indeed where she was living while working as part of the mayor's Mammal Inclusion Initiative. Sighing, the horned herbivore then went on to explain, "Just take a look at the file and read the details for yourself. It explains why this is thought to have been an attempted hit rather than an act of terrorism."

Frowning, the Hispanic red fox gazed over the actual written file. The reports by officers on the scene, conclusions made by Forensics... particularly the casualty involved. "Someone set it up to explode as soon as anyone opened the door." It wasn't a question.

Nodding his head, Idriis replied, "I've lived in this city and worked with Zootopia's government for too long to know there are no such things as coincidences. It would have been a one-in-a-million-chance otherwise for an attack to have happened as soon as someone opened the door to your condo. As it stands, the late Mr. Fleeceman just happened to have the poor luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Mr. Fleeceman!?" Carmelita gasped. "That dumb sheep that threw me out... is..." she trailed off, unable to voice her thoughts. Yes, the damn herbivore had been an asshole but no one deserved to simply die in such a violent fashion. Forcing herself to get back on topic, the vixen instead asked, "So, what makes you so certain City Hall is involved?" Granted, it was plainly obvious but she hoped the man had evidence they could use to formally arrest those scumbags.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the muscular bovine told her, "Because they were pushing to keep the truth of what happened OUT of the media... that they wanted us to claim it was an electrical fire... all while condolences over the fate of the, 'late Inspector Fox' made the rounds before we had actual confirmation of death or identity of the body."

"...Should I pop up on TV going, 'Boo! I'm a ghost! Boo!' while covered in flour?" She gave him a wry smirk. Within four seconds, both officers were actually laughing at the ludicrous suggestion despite the seriousness of the situation.

Shaking his head, the mirth soon left the horned herbivore. "I'm serious, Fox. Watch yourself and stay low here in Happytown. I've let a select few know you're still alive; trust me, Officer Clawhauser was one of them... otherwise this would have been absolutely devastated him. But I did that not just to make sure you could get help but to also vet out those I trust. If word gets out about your condition BEFORE you return officially..."

Considering that for a moment, the vixen gazed up, trying to meet the burly bovidae's darker brown eyes with her lighter set. "But what about Forensics? I'm pretty certain their reports are making the rounds."

"Oh, they will be... but I've been delaying them getting to the City Council," he smirked. "I felt it would be best to let them saber rattle for a bit before I rain on their parade by letting them know Officer Fox is still somewhere out there and the fact some mammal's paws are now stained with the blood of the innocent. I figure a little sobering truth might do them a little good and get them to stay off your back if only for a little bit, while any mourning in the Precinct might cause others to gain respect through a bit of self-reflection."

Crossing her arms over her chest, the vixen told him, "That sounds rather underhanded." She would rather NOT gain any sympathy or assistance over worry for her.

"A little bit, I admit. Cloak and dagger politics aren't normally the option I take but I can accept when it's needed," the African buffalo told her in a firm and unrepentant tone. "Some mammals don't appreciate what they have until it's gone and going nearly a day thinking you got killed might do them a world of good..." he smirked. "As well as possibly scare the right people if you come back before they get word you hadn't been killed... possibly some mammals that work with the TUSK division..."

Now the vixen couldn't help but smirk. "Why Chief, with what you're suggesting, I can't help but feel as though you don't like Captain Razorback..."

The larger prey mammal let off a grunt of annoyance. "I like Razorback as much as I like getting my bill after a meal and discovering the restaurant charged me for tap water!"

Gawking at the man's unique take on the matter, the vixen whistled. "Wow. It's that bad, huh?"

Carmelita could actually hear the groan as it reverberated in police chief's muscular throat. "Officer Fox, I'll be blunt: TUSK might have had a purpose once upon a time but as the years went by, its true colors began to shine through the veneer that had been draped over them thanks to the government's narrative. They weren't a shield to defend the prey populace; they were a squad of correctional officers roaming the prison that was the life we created for the carnivores in Tame Collars. They bullied and beat predators into submission to keep them downtrodden and submissive. I've never been able to fully eliminate the department, only shrink it down in size and scope as well as turn their attention to something more legitimate as a secondary SWAT team." His fists clenched atop the table. "Trust me when I say there's no love lost between the Captain and I. We keep things professional between us as officers of the law but that's it."

Her shoulders sagging slightly, the vixen shook her head in annoyance. "Lovely. And I'm in the crosshairs, aren't I?" She asked, easily able to guess how bad it could get and how quickly in no small part thanks to this attempted attack on her life.

Looking down at the smaller predator, the cape buffalo sighed. "Frankly my dear, it's a good thing you were suspended. I'm going to need all tomorrow to try and set up some form of damage control. So please, just keep your head down in the meantime: stay here in the forgotten depths of the Downtown District. No mammal comes out here and it's a good place to keep out of sight from the populace. When you have to return Friday, it will be a chance to explain outright what's going on... and hopefully we'll be able to keep from stepping on more toes with the reveal that you're okay."

Mulling over that for a moment, the Hispanic vixen reluctantly nodded her head. "I guess I can stay out of sight for another day." Granted, she didn't like the idea but it would be nice to catch up on her sleep. Plus she could call Nick to get food if she needed it. "Oh yeah..." she muttered as she remembered the LAST time he went to get her food. "Trust me, Chief, I'll keep my head down."

Exhaling a bit in relief, the cape buffalo told her, "That's all I can ask..." he then grasped his cup of coffee. Now that it had cooled a bit, he brought it to his lips and took a long drag, practically guzzling it down in one go. Smacking his lips, he had to replied, "Not bad... that agave stuff actually tastes something like sugar."

"It's as close as I can get to liquid sugar when none is available," Carmelita explained. She watched as the man started to get up before asking, "So I take it the reason you were so quick to find me another vest was for my personal protection... in case City Hall manages to get their act together faster than you anticipate?"

Pausing in the middle of exiting from the booth, the big and beefy buffalo turned his gaze to the much smaller canid cop. "Carmelita," he began, calling the woman by her first name to her face in an effort to show the woman the visit wasn't completely police business but it was still serious. "Just trust me on this and promise me one thing. Promise that whenever you go out from now on, you'll be armed... it would be in your best interest."

The woman frowned more, getting the taller prey mammal's message loud and clear. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere without protection after my experiences over the past few days." Last night in particular really drove the point home for her.

The ebony-skinned herbivore gave a grunt of acknowledgement to that. "Smart move," he told her as he stood up and made his way towards the front door of the farmhouse as he exited the kitchen. "You can keep the file, Fox. Look over it and consider the situation. Depending on how things go Friday, we might be able to get you opportunity to investigate into certain aspects... perhaps you could help expose the truth."

Her muzzle pulled back in a frown, Carmelita realized what he was getting at with that comment. It was obvious from how pleased he had sounded earlier, that the police chief had appreciated the fact they finally had the opportunity to pin a genuine felony on someone related to the City Council. A chink in the armor had been made, offering the ZPD a unique opportunity to break through their normal political immunity before they reconsolidated their standing.

The Hispanic policewoman just didn't appreciate that it was going to cause the biggest target of all to be put on her head. At least he got me another vest, the vulpine thought glumly as she watched the powerful prey mammal duck down once more so he could exit the premises.

Looking on as the African buffalo made his way to his own cruiser, one thing was certain to the vixen. She was going to need some help if she was to make it through what was now going to be hostile territory. True, she had a certain group of polar bears at her beck and call for aid if she really, really needed but Inspector Fox did have other sources for assistance.

Stepping back inside the farm house and closing the door, the Latina vulpine locked the door before turning about and making her way towards her bedroom. She had a call to make...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tucked away within the depths of his science lab situated within the bowels of Paris–in the sewers to be precise–the box turtle Bentley's fingers typed away furiously at the keyboard before him as he stared up at the giant screen that took up a third of an entire wall. While it was true that the old saying went, 'a man's home is his castle' the reptile's laboratory was a special underground facility where experiments were done with gusto, damn the consequences. Sure, he worked with the typical tools of the trade such as computers, centrifuges, beakers, burners, and other gear necessary to complete complex experiments but his lab also contained some rather obscure pieces of equipment for his research. The turtle worked with a refrigerated room-sized freezer, atomic-powered ultron-microscopes, multiple polymer-injection three-dimensional printers, and even uranium-depletion units... the latter of which, besides offering unique materials, also supplied the 1.21 gigawatts of electrical power required to operate the facility and its numerous work-stations!

And yet, the continued discoveries of science meant nothing to the turtle as they once had. The betrayal of his ex-girlfriend Penelope Maus had brought him back to the reality of what was important: family. And being orphaned at a young age meant not the family he was born into but the ones he grew up alongside. He had contact with Murray whenever he needed it but his search for Sly was becoming more brutal as time went on. It didn't help that in trying to find evidence of Sly Cooper somewhere, anywhere in time, all the traces and leads he got just ended with him discovering even more history about the most prominent Cooper of that era! Even with his specialized research and connections, this quest to find the master thief became something akin to trying to find a needle in a haystack!

"The worst part is, so many of his ancestors look like him," the wheelchair-bound turtle mumbled to himself. Such meant Bentley couldn't ever be a hundred-percent sure if something he found pertained to Sly or one of his ancestors until he spent more time than necessary actually investigating. Either way, this search was so...

So...

Frustrating.

The semi-aquatic reptile had to snort. He was blessed with an IQ of two-hundred and eleven, yet he was having trouble sifting the most basic facts from the histories he slowly uncovered. Granted, that wasn't helped at all by the fact that history and records weren't kept as well in certain eras as they were in others but with the Thievius Raccoonus, even he should have had enough background knowledge to be able to pry more from it than some leads to go by! It's almost as if he's trying to not be found, Bentley mentally griped as he continued to follow the history of a certain corsair treasure stolen from Japan, re-stolen from Britain, and brought back to the Eastern Islands... just taking something to return it was a rather Robin Hood-esque thing and it was likely a Cooper that would have done it.

Ten minutes more and he discovered the scans of a few different hundreds-of-year-old transcripts to realize the guards were describing a female raccoon... with a hook in place of a hand rather than on the end of a staff.

"Captain Henriette 'One-Eye' Cooper..." the turtle let off a defeated sigh. He might as well continue to look over the rest of the testimonials; there might be mention of a male helping her.

"...Huh..." he trailed off as he read the records over. They told of a pirate captain who was always on the lookout for the next treasure, booze, fun and–from what he could tell by reading between the lines–her next fling. "...Either she was quite open-minded for the era or she just didn't care who she was with." He muttered as he found the story about the little bar wench that One-Eye took as a personal attendant.

Still, this did sound a little something like Sly... minus the killing, the drinking, and the insane laughter of course.

The poor bespectacled reptile shivered at the mental imagery that went through the back of his mind. Thank the Heavens above Le Paradox never thought to screw with her era, the poor criminal genius thought with a bit of relief. I can only imagine what we would have been forced to deal with if he had!

Then again, considering his records they might have dealt with her already... against all odds, the timing the older ninja's career and the young nautical-oriented raccoon's meant that Riochi Cooper, the developer of the Ninja Spire Jump, was Henriette's father. Bentley could only wonder what kind of woman the sushi-slinging shinobi ended up with in his golden years that caused their daughter to go the route of piracy and get the Cooper bloodline out of old Edo.

Most of the following exploits that he read were about what she stole, the various people she met with in private, and the narrow escapes with the European authorities; a fleet of the British Navy headed by a, 'Commodore Fox' in particular. "But it all came to an end eventually." He sighed as he shook his head. Some of the tales he was uncovering were pretty interesting. "An armored Eurasian mercenary swooped in and..." Bentley blinked his eyes at that. He brought his hand up to the side of his head, adjusting his glasses as he frowned. "Swooped in? Eurasian? Nah, just wording I'm sure."

It wasn't like Clockwerk was one to work with the authorities... right?

The turtle's face became more beak-like as his lips tugged back into a frown. Considering the lengths Clockwerk would go JUST to take down the Coopers, would it truly be beneath him to actually partner up with the law enforcement of the local ruling class just to make sure Henriette died? Considering the Thievius Racoonus stated she was immune to the mechanical menace's hypnosis because she lacked one of her eyes meant he might have tried to reciprocate the loss of such ability in other more unconventional ways... the reptile thought with dread.

However, before the glasses-adorned genius could have more time to mull over such theories or what-if scenarios, his train of thought was derailed when the ringing noise of his binocucom's alert function sounded out from the backrest of his wheelchair. Bringing his left hand up to press one of the buttons on the console embedded into the armrest of said mobile seat, there was a crackle as a microphone in it came to life, putting the line on speaker system. "Hello, hello! Bentley speaking..." he had a feeling it was the lovely Inspector Fox, considering if it had been Murray, his Binocucom would have gone off outright instead of its secondary cellular phone function: the device made it far more difficult for law-enforcement agencies to trace his calls.

"Hola, Bentley!" The familiar feminine voice called out. "Carmelita here."

"Good morning, Inspector Fox!" The scientifically-inclined semi-aquatic animal chirruped happily. Bringing his hands up in front of his face, the man tapped his fingers together as he queried, "How are things going this fine morning?"

The line was quiet for a moment. "Morning?" The voice of the Interpol Inspector repeated. "...Bentley, when was the last time you went outside?"

Bentley blinked his eyes at that sarcastic bit of commentary. "AH! Right. Time difference," he said with a bit of a snort, hoping she would leave things at that and not pry into the fact the last time he had actually left the lab was to meet the vixen at her apartment. Bringing his right hand up to the side of his head to readjust his glasses, the shelled reptile queried, "What I should say is: 'Good evening, Inspector Fox. How are things in Zootopia'?" He tapped his fingers on the armrest and continued with, "Have things gotten better since the rough start you had in the city?"

The sigh that reverberated over his speakers was more than enough to let the genius know she was having a hard time of it. "Muy terriblé, Bentley," the lovely Latina voice responded in all seriousness. "First off, let me ask one thing and I need you to be honest: you didn't happen to recently send or sell any of your explosives to anyone in Zootopia, have you?"

The box turtle's eyes blinked repeatedly behind the Coke bottle-thick lenses of his glasses. "Er, of course not," he replied, already getting a bad feeling as to where this was going. Still, he gave her the opening to explain by asking, "Why do you ask, Carmelita?"

"I just needed to make sure," the woman said slowly. "While I'm glad you didn't I am actually a little sad to hear such is the case... because it would have given me a lead to figuring out who would be crazy enough to firebomb my condo!" She practically roared out that last part, emphasizing the urgency of the situation.

"Wait, wait! Firebomb? FIREBOMB!?" Bentley yelled out in shock as he tried to mentally digest what the red vixen told him. Leaning forward as he opened a new window on his monitor, the man started furiously typing on his keyboard to find out what she was talking about. "What happened? Did you piss off the local mafia or something?"

The woman was silent on her end for a while with those words; a little too quiet for the shelled reptile's preference. "That is rather astute observation and yet quite the opposite actually," the vixen finally answered.

That made the male scientist pause in his typing. "...Pardon?" The box turtle queried, curious as to why the policewoman would offer such a response. "What do you mean? A yes or no question shouldn't be answered in a yes and no fashion!"

A sigh could be heard over the line, one of fatigue and frustration. "Bentley, so much has gone on in the past forty-eight hours alone that you wouldn't believe. I stopped a major career criminal... again. And he was another one that had the backing of the City Council I might add," she stated with a bit of pride. "I also happened to piss off an up-and-coming Italian-American rodent-lead polar bear Mafia gang..."

Shaking his head in a good-natured fashion, Bentley chuckled a bit as a smile spread over his features. "Wouldn't have it any other way, right?" That was his Inspector Fox: always getting in over her head by doing the right thing.

Then, rather reluctantly, the vulpine on the other end of the line continued with, "And... well... I might have ended up being anointed the Patron Saint of a Russian Bratva."

Needless to say, the grin immediately dropped from the reptile's face. This was indeed one of those rare moments he'd been caught fully off-guard. After a few moments of silence, he managed to finally blurt out a dull inquiry of, "What?"

"Apparently my past exploits are well known in the criminal underworld of Zootopia," the Interpol Inspector said in all seriousness. "And one of my missions in particular ended up helping a member of the Russian Mob out and now..." she trailed off as she sighed in exasperation. "To be blunt, I'm being treated as royalty by his gang."

The man blinked his eyes, carefully mulling over this new information. "...I see..." Bentley said slowly, not making any snap judgments. He understood how something like this probably irked the lawfully-inclined Latina's sensibilities. "Any particularly gang and mission I should know about?" The shelled reptile asked out of professional curiosity. "I mean, you obviously sound like you could use a hand and if you need me to get you more background information of them, I will..." he brought his hands back to the keyboard, prepared to type.

The female red fox was silent on her end of the line for a bit. "It's the Kholodno Bratva," she finally admitted. "The leader of the gang has admitted that they're pretty much retired in an official sense and has tried to set up more honest work in Zootopia's Tundratown District..." she trailed off. It was obvious she wanted to say more but held back.

Although the canid policewoman wouldn't be able to see it, Bentley merely nodded his head as he was looking up what he could about the Kholodono. Hmm... it seemed they had quite the rise to prominence in Russia during the mid-Nineties before fizzling out a decade later into mere jewel smugglers, particularly in the illegal African diamond trade. "All right, so a bunch of ursine enforcers who like shiny things have come to view you with a considerable level of admiration. Just what did you do to earn it?"

"...I happened to help take down their boss during a mission to Russia," she said carefully, giving the man on the other end of her phone a chance to process the information. Realizing how that may have sounded, she went on to further explain, "To be more precise, I took down the usurper who had killed the current Boss's father in a literal hostile takeover."

Bringing his right hand up to his chin, the box turtle gently rubbed at his jaw in fascination. "Well, that would endear you to them wouldn't it?"

The Hispanic vulpine was silent for a long moment. When she began it was slow, with as little emotion to her voice as possible. "...Yes... I took him down in 2007... at the Krack-Karov volcano... with the help of Sly."

And just like that, the truth came crashing down on the turtle like a sack full of bricks. "Wait! Wait-wait-wait-WAIT!" He shouted into the air, his eyes going nearly as wide the lenses of his glasses. "You mean to tell me these guys who practically canonized you amongst their order... were Clockwerk's minions!?"

"...Yes..." the woman's sigh practically reverberated over the line. "I'm beginning to think there are no such things as coincidences, only the inevitable."

Tapping the fingers of his right hand on the armrest of his wheelchair, the shelled reptile mulled over the policewoman's observation for a moment. "Good or bad?"

"...Yes..." the Latina answered again.

The genius twitched. "Damn it, Inspector Fox!" The turtle snapped irritably. "Stop giving me the mathematician answers already," he told her in all serious. "That's my job! I'm the one with the IQ to legitimately pull it off!" He smiled as that managed to elicit a chuckle from the woman on the other end of the line. "Seriously though? A Bratva loves you because–let's be honest here–you likely got one-hundred percent of the credit for taking down that monster..."

"...Both times," the female red fox admitted shamefully. At least the second time Sly had practically demanded she take the credit as to save her career with Interpol. "But as it stands, neither of those gangs is why I am worried for my life. You of all animals know that I can take care of myself when it comes to the scum of organized crime! Oh no," she growled, the anger in her voice obvious. "What I can't seem to handle are lawfully-elected officials abusing their power to try and murder me and end up killing an innocent instead!"

"...Wait... what?" Bentley asked, before remembering that yes, Carmelita and he HAD been talking about her condo being firebombed before they got off on the tangent about the Russsian mafia. With a surprising amount of speed for a turtle, the criminal scientist was quickly cross-referencing 'Zootopia' and 'explosions' on his computer system. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he began to speedily read the information on his main computer screen. "While I know better than to trust the media, I just want to point out that their sources are saying it was a gas leak." Which, thanks to personal experience, he knew was complete nonsense. Gas leaks, while indeed explosive, didn't do the type of controlled damage that the images were showing. Only explosive specially-set could do that.

"Chief Bogo came looking for me," the vixen stated in a firm tone. "It turns out the Zootopia police cruisers and other vehicles are fitted with tracking technology. He followed the signal from mine all the way out to the Happytown District. He had been hoping to find me safe and sound. He did... only to share what the police on the scene discovered in their investigations..."

Silence reigned for a long while. Just as the bespectacled turtle was about to open his mouth to speak, the Hispanic vulpine continued, "I looked over the case files. The investigation team found incendiary devices and the portions of the triggers that would set them off connected to the door of the condo I was supposed to be staying at... triggers which were positioned to go off as soon as someone opened said door. That ended up being the owner of Flamingle Flats: the late Mr. Fleeceman... he became roasted sheep."

Considering that for a moment, the reptile found it difficult to feel such sympathy for a person who gave his friend such a hard time. "Huh... well, I've heard mutton is quite tasty."

"BENTLEY!" The canid cop shrieked, completely scandalized by the notion of just what her reptilian friend was suggesting! Even if she missed red meat, she wasn't about to eat the remains of a sentient mammal!

"What?" Bentley asked in an incredulous fashion. Hearing the slight growl of frustration over the line, he sighed. "Okay, okay I admit that was rather tasteless of me," the turtle admitted in an unrepentant fashion. Still, he did take a moment to bite his tongue to keep himself from adding, 'much like your almost-landlord is' for Carm's benefit before switching gears with, "Tell me though: is this really unexpected? In doing the right thing you've been stepping on the toes of the Establishment Elites since you got there. I'm not surprised they're now going to such considerable lengths to get rid of you... foolish on their part as it may be. After all, If you died, I would expect Interpol to do everything within their power to become involved."

"Tell me about it," Carmelita's voice bitterly sounded out over the line in agreement. "But no. What I'm calling you about is... well, I hate to bother you but after this turn of events? I realize I'm going to need some new gear."

A smile slowly spread across the shelled reptile's face; a mischievous gleam sparkling off the corners of his lenses. "Oh? Do tell, Inspector! What would you like ol' Bentley to supply you with? Some upgrades for your gun, perhaps? Improved batteries to offer a stronger charge? Go on, no need to be shy..." he brought his hands up before him, lacing the fingers together as he cracked them in anticipation. "Please: do tell."

Again, the woman on the other end of the line was silent, trying to gather her thoughts. Finally, she spoke up with the inquiry, "Are you at a computer?"

Despite knowing such a visual cue would be lost over an auditory medium, the criminal genius raised a speculative eyebrow. "...Really?"

Indeed, even the vixen realized the folly of such a question. "Scratch that, of course you are!" The woman replied. Even if he couldn't see it, the wheelchair-bound turtle could tell she was using that moment of silence to shake her head. "Anyway, would you please look up images and assorted information for the vests for the ZPD?"

Nodding his head, the box turtle chirruped, "Sure! Just let me..." he frowned as he got an hourglass icon on his screen. "Grr... blasted thing, go faster!" He grumbled as he began closing out of some of the windows he had running search programs. "There we go," he murmured as he got numerous new windows opening up with images of officers in uniform. He leaned forward and looked at the designs that came up. "Huh, pretty bog-standard..." the reptile murmured as he looked over the pictures of it. It was basic Kevlar weave with interior metal plating to add further protective measure. Overall, it was just enough to stop small caliber bullets but not much else.

"Would you be willing to create a few that aren't as conventional?" The vulpine woman finally asked. "I mean, they would have to look like as though they're standard-issue equipment but I kind of need something with a bit more protection than just, 'pray someone with a ten-millimeter is dumb enough to aim for the chest'." She had already gone through such yesterday and she doubted she would be as fortunate again. The lovely Latina knew she wasn't Sly and even his legendary luck eventually hit a brick wall.

"I see, I see," the paraplegic reptile replied as he was already making mental notes. Still, he would prefer to hear it from the woman herself before making suggestions. "What kind of changes are you looking for to make such reality?" He knew the Latina spitfire was more than a tad stubborn when it came to him actually outfitting her gear: the red fox had given him quite an earful during their time jumping when she had learned he was getting her weapon upgrades from ThiefNet so he wanted to make darn sure the policewoman knew it was her idea before he started shelling out serious coinage to supply her.

"Better interior armor plating for one thing, perhaps a long term battery pack for an actual force-shield generator..." the Hispanic officer quickly listed off. The way she readily listed such made it obvious such were a couple of aspects she'd been considering before calling him. "And, while not an imperative... if you could, maybe you can have it come with its own WiFi generator? I'd really, really appreciate that."

Bentley raised an eyebrow at the vulpine woman's wish-list. She must have really been desperate if she was giving him such leeway from the get-go. "Okay, I can understand those first two aspects. Armor is easy enough but a force-shield?" He drummed his fingers atop the right armrest as the gears of his mind began turning a mile a minute as he calculated the possibility to make such reality. "Hmmm... I could rig something up for small bursts of protection but nothing that could be continuous beyond a minute before needing a recharge." He frowned as he considered the last request. "But why would you need armor that can create its own WiFi signal?" Such seemed rather frivolous and the vixen was anything but!

"I live out in the otherwise abandoned Happytown District. I barely get a reception as it is by piggybacking off of the wireless utilities coming off the neighboring Rainforest District," the off-duty vulpine policewoman explained. "Not to mention I figure such would be useful in case of an emergency should someone try and jam the regular radio frequencies if I'm pinned down and in desperate need of assistance."

The reptilian genius nodded his head. "Understandable," the glasses-adorned criminal replied, remembering how he felt when the gang had been hunting Rajan in the depths of India. By the time he got back to civilization by himself, he was suffering from withdrawals and needed a net fix other than the ThiefNet App on his computer. "Getting back to that force-shield you mentioned... hmm..." he mulled over it a bit more, wishing he had a pencil to chew on. "While I mentioned it would be short bursts, I have to ask: what kind of protection do you desire?"

Silence was the only sound from the other end of the line for the greatest while. Finally, when the vixen spoke again, she quietly asked, "There are different kinds?"

The box turtle nodded his head on reflex before explaining, "I assume you don't want a heat dispersal force-field, as I doubt you're facing enemies armed with energy-based weapon, although it would be good for dealing with explosives. There are also fields that can stop nearly anything, but they're better suited on a car, boat, plane, or other large defendable position whether mobile or not. Repulsor fields can be magnetically-charged to cause bullets or just about anything to bounce off but to manage the latter is very draining on the battery. Then there are shifting-fields that bend light, making it more difficult for someone to see you."

Although the answer wasn't as quickly forthcoming, the tone of the woman's voice made it obvious she was impressed by what she was being told. "Are you telling me that I could be invisible like the alien monster in, 'The Predator' movies?"

Smiling at the awe in her dulcet tone, Bentley replied, "More like the female protagonist in the, 'Goat in the Shell' anime."

"...Need I remind you this armor needs to look like a standard-issue police vest?" The Latina firmly emphasized to her friend, knowing exactly what he was getting at. "I do not want nor need a white skin-tight suit." If she didn't put one on for any of Sly's birthday requests, she sure as heck wasn't going to make it every-day wear!

Smirking, the wheelchair-bound box turtle couldn't help but snark, "Sure thing, Major."

"BENTLEY!"

Wincing as the audio reverberated from the feedback, the criminal mastermind nodded his head slowly. "All right, all right..." the bespectacled reptile relented before he became serious once again. "Sadly, I'd say we could only manage one type of force-shield per vest due to the size of the rechargeable batteries I would be using in conjunction their functionality." He frowned a bit as he scanned over more pictures of various officers in uniform. "Frankly, if you were any of the larger species, I could have added two different shields or one long-lasting battery... but with your size? You get one that could run a minute to eighty seconds straight..." he smirked and teasingly added, "Yes, even with your cup-size. There's just not enough material in the vest for me to work with while keeping it looking standards."

The turtle could hear a small growl from the other end of the line. "Why, oh why do my breasts keep coming up in conversations lately!?"

"Carm, there are porn stars with smaller breasts than yours," the bespectacled turtle told her honestly. But not as firm as her breasts, he thought jokingly. Taking a deep breath, he then continued, "But hey! You should feel proud. If gives you more of an edge when it comes to using your feminine wiles on your adversaries."

Now a much louder growl sounded out over the speakers. "Oh trust me, they're not as useful as you think," she snapped out bitterly. "All those so-called, 'feminine wiles' got me was to work Vice for a morning shift. I posed as a prostitute and busted damn-near thirty Johns!"

The box turtle blinked his eyes once, twice, thrice. "...Seriously?" He asked, disbelief evident in his voice. He couldn't believe that the ZPD would waste an asset like Inspector Fox on mere prostitution stings!

...Although now the criminal genius had the desire to see if he could hack Zootopia's traffic cameras to find any video of that: one part his own viewing pleasure, the other part something to show at the next Christmas party. It would make for a good laugh and the Hispanic beauty wouldn't punch him then, not on Christmas!

Yes, the man was betting on the Holidays to save his paraplegic posterior. Not the fact he wore glasses or that he was confined to a wheelchair. She'd shot at him plenty of times with her Shock Pistol as he was before he had gotten this point. Hopefully around the most wonderful time of the year, she'd see him as being lame as Tiny Tim and let the Christmas Spirit into her heart and not release her fist into his face.

"Yes, that was... argh," she snarled out in aggravation. "I know it's typical of local cops to do that but... UGH!" It was obvious doing such left the vixen feeling used.

Bentley nodded his head, feeling bad for his lone female friend. "Carmelita, you sound like you're at wit's end and it's barely been a week. Would it help if Murray and I came to offer you some personal assistance?" He curiously queried... an almost hopeful tone to his voice. "If things really are getting that dangerous over there, then you will need someone you can trust to watch your back!" As he said that, a small smile came to his face. In the back of his mind, he could hear Sly's voice chirrup, 'And what a back at that'!

"Not right now," the woman told him, although the barest tone of relief the reptile could hear creeping into her voice let him know she appreciated his offer. "However, there is something you can do for me from where you're at."

The semi-aquatic reptile raised an eyebrow at that. "Hmm? And just what would that me, Inspector Fox?" He asked sweetly, half-expecting her to say, 'work on those armored vests'.

Instead, the Hispanic vulpine was quick to request, "Do some research into Zootopia's City Council for me. Call it a hunch, but I have this feeling that they've got under the table deals going on with unsavory connections."

Again, Bentley nodded his head in response, despite knowing the woman couldn't see the verbal affirmation. "Of course I can!" He chimed proudly. "Heck, I should be able to find something in earnest three or four days from now if not sooner."

The line was silent for a moment. "...Three days at best?" The vulpine woman asked, disbelief plain as day in her voice. "But you were able to uncover Zootopia's dirty little secrets for me in hours! What makes this any different?"

Bringing his hand up to the bridge of his glasses to push them fully back into place, the shelled reptile explained, "Well, that's because I was solely focusing on delving into the deep net for my information at the time. Now? I'll also be designing and working on new vests for you in tandem to get them ready ASAP as well. I don't want you going without proper protection any longer than you have to!"

"...I do have a Shock Pistol, you know..." the policewoman drawled out, reminding the man that she wasn't unarmed.

The reptile resisted the urge to sigh. He could tell the woman was getting stubborn again and he had to handle this carefully. "While that's very good and all," he began diplomatically, conceding the fact that yes, Shock Pistols did have their place. "You should realize that if the people who want you dead get desperate, there are plenty of hit-mammals and assassins who could take you out from a distance."

Carmelita went pretty quiet at the truth bomb her friend dropped on her. "...I'll be staying low tomorrow. Do try and get me some form of protection and the information as soon as you can. And focus on the repellant shielding for the vests, please... maybe ONE with that light-bending array you were talking about. It might be useful just to have on paw in case of an emergency." She had come to accept she couldn't have multi-functioning protective vests but that didn't mean the canid cop had to settle for just the one shielding format.

Releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the turtle merrily replied, "Can do! You just give me some time and I'll have you hooked up with something dependable faster than you can say something in Spanish."

"...Sí..." she said pointedly.

The turtle twitched. "...Wiseass..." he murmured in annoyance. Still, he found himself smiling as he caught the sound of the Latina's melodious giggle on the line.

"Gracias, Bentley," the woman on the other end of the line said gratefully. "I truly appreciate this."

The turtle gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "What are friends for?" He asked with a smile as his eyes darted over to the clock in the bottom-right corner of his primary computer screen. "Now you take care of yourself, all right? If I'm not mistaken, it should be close dinner time if not bedtime for you."

"Yeah, I should get something to eat," the woman admitted. "You take care of yourself too, Bentley. And thank you again."

As the Inspector hung up on her end of the line Bentley brought his left hand to the console on his wheelchair's armrest once more. Shutting off the line completely, the paraplegic genius keyed in another sequence, causing a mechanical limb to rise up from within the backrest of his mobile transport. Within the mechanical mitt of the prosthetic arm was a green binocular-like device. Pulling it free from the grasp of his wheelchair's automated appendage, the shelled reptile brought it to his face and looked through it; fingers working the two dials on either side as he set it to a certain signal.

"Hello, Murray? We need to talk..."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"For the record," the leonine mayor of Zootopia stated as he stood before his desk with his arms raised; his blue jacket folded in half as it hung over the backrest of his leather chair. "This is a terrible, and I mean terrible idea, Miss Bellweather." The fact that he had managed to get her name right spoke volumes of how nervous he was as she strapped a pair of black plastic-coated cords down onto his silk shirt with some duct tape. "And can you hurry this up? The City Council called for an emergency meeting over an hour ago! I don't know how much longer I can reasonably stay away from the meeting room before they send someone! If they catch you adorning me with a wire, we're in deep shit!"

The petite lamb rolled her eyes. Been there, done that, she thought with annoyance as she considered that, for a lion, he sure was a scaredy-cat. "Oh, get a grip, Mayor Lionheart," the sheep said as she continued to wrap the lengthy pair of wires around him, continuing to follow the path with a roll of silver duct tape as she did. "Whatever the Council doesn't know, won't hurt us!" She stated firmly. "With Inspector Fox dead, we need to find out what part they played. What we're doing now may be illegal in Zootopia but I believe Interpol would exonerate us for such a small thing in return for giving them evidence that the Council plotted her murder!"

Sighing, the larger predator nodded his head. "I know but this feels so... so..."

"If we get them all arrested and pulled from their positions of power, you become the primary if not solitary authority of Zootopia," Dawn was quick to remind him.

The grin that spit across the lion's muzzle threatened to split his face in too. "...So very right!" He chirruped, his wide grin showing off his pearly white teeth. "No more being the low-mammal on the totem pole! All we need to do is get the evidence together that a conspiracy to commit murder was involved and POW! I can finally guide this city as it deserves to be!"

A small chuckle escaping her throat, Dawn couldn't help but shake her head good-naturedly. He was just so easy to manipulate sometimes. No different than getting a child to behave by promising a treat. Except when his anger's boiling over, she thought with annoyance. When Lionheart was angry, he truly was the dominant mammal of the pair. Damn specist biology, making me weak and timid as soon as he starts roaring his fool head off!

Still, it was nice that she could direct him where he needed to go and when push came to shove. As much as he annoyed her, she knew he could be trusted.

Well... about as much as any prey mammal could expect to trust a predator at least.

"Almost done, Sir," she chirruped excitedly, a smile on her face as she put on the finishing touches to fasten the wire on him properly. She could only imagine just what the City Council would let slip when they were within their private board room of City Hall.

Nodding his head, the lion watched as the sheep continued to work, setting him up with a wire. When she had finished as much as she could on her own, the mane-adorned feline reached over for his jacket and put it on again, sliding his arms in through the sleeves. He didn't close his blue coat right away as instead, he grasped the battery-operated transponder and stuffed it into one of his interior pockets. Pulling the flap flush over his abdomen, Leodore then began to button it closed... only to frown as he now had a specific box-shape protruding from his right side. "Um..." he trailed off, wondering what he could do to hide this.

"Of for the love of..." shaking her head, the sheep walked over to one of the chairs meant for visiting guests and grabbed her purse. Opening it, she took out both a pack of cigarettes and one of chewing gum before quickly clopping her way back towards the much larger predator and stuffing the front pocket on the other side with them. "There. Now if anyone asks, just share."

Looking down at himself to see that yes, both protrusions were similar, the lion raised his head and nodded to her. "Thank you, Miss Smellweather," he said with genuine gratitude... even if he still butchered her name.

Rolling her eyes, the lamb let off a long-suffering sigh. "Bellweather," she corrected.

"That's what I said!" He protested as he straightened his clothing. "Well, wish me luck. I'm off to face the horde," the feline bureaucrat proclaimed in a theatric fashion... as if by exaggerating the danger he could puff-up how great he was for doing this.

Nodding her head, the petite wool-covered woman happily replied, "Just remember! If you don't come back, I get your comfy chair!"

And the bravado the Mayor had been building up for himself deflated with that comment. Giving the small herbivore a flat look as she smirked up at him, the mane-adorned politician queried, "And why would you get my comfy chair?"

The Assistant Mayor smiled as she made her way behind the desk to climb up into it so she could work the equipment. "Well, if you're dead you won't need it, right?" She replied jokingly as she winked at him.

Leodore merely raised an eyebrow, wondering just how much of that was a, 'joke'. "I have you know that it is listed in my last will and testament that the chair gets buried with me."

Pausing in getting her headset on, the response made the Mayor's petite personal assistant blink her eyes once, twice. "...Seriously?"

Nodding his head, the leonine politician replied, "It's a really good chair. But you can use it while you're working the other end of this in the meantime." As the man said that, he looked over to the old transistor radio that she had carried up from her office and placed atop his desk. "By the way... you are certain that thing still works, right?"

The fact the attached recorder was the tape kind didn't do much to ease his worries.

"There should be no problems. Analog technology had its issues but it's still useful," she said in all seriousness. "And I have a feeling the Police Chief and Interpol will accept something that is more difficult to fake than digitized technology. We can even let the authorities borrow this whole set-up if they need it. Otherwise? I'm sure they still have the right equipment for stuff like this somewhere."

Oh, if only Bellweather knew that back in at Inspector Fox's office, settled in the Paris branch of the Interpol HQ, there was a working VHS player.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself for the upcoming infiltration, the lion nodded his head in resignation. Waiting a moment for the lamb to get her headset on and the machine running, he tapped on the lump in his jacket with his right paw. When the petite herbivore nodded her head and gave him the thumbs up, he let out a sigh of relief. "Wish me luck." With that, the Mayor of Zootopia went straight for the office door and turned upon exiting. He stood tall and poised, trying to appear as calm and collected as one could, despite how nervous he felt deep down. He had faith in talking his way out of things if they gave him trouble but he couldn't be certain.

Double talk was the craft of a politician–and Leodore considered himself among the best at it–but the City Council were all politicians in one way or another.

However, as soon as he came upon the doors to the meeting room and swung them inward, the mane-adorned mammal found that his tardiness somehow wasn't the main focus... at all. The opulently-decorated lavish board room already filled with his fellow council members was instead abuzz with the bankers and bureaucrats tearing into one another like a pack of predators at an all-you-can-eat bug buffet... so much so, it was at the point where they didn't even notice him enter! So while he was the last one to arrive once more, the lion found that unlike the last time, things were already in full swing.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, YOU SPECIST NAG!?" The Arctic Hare snarled as he jumped onto the table; right paw raised to point an accusatory finger at the equine across the table.

The mare in a blue blazer gasped in shock, her jaw dropping and eyes wide as she appeared scandalized. "How... HOW DARE YOU CALL ME THE 'N' WORD!?"

His eyebrows furrowed in rage, the lapin banker snapped back, "YOU SAID I WAS CUTE AND CALLED ME A DUMB BUNNY! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT, GLUE-STICK!?"

Leaning forward in his seat, the Head of Zootopia's Conservative Party turned his head to look at the two squabbling council member! "Calm down at once, both of you!" Jumbo loans spoke up sternly, ignoring how both glared at him. "Calling each other names will accomplish nothing."

Her upper lip curling back as she let off an angry huff, the equine Liberal glared at the much older herbivore. "Why am I not surprised someone of your position is taking the dumb bunny's side!?" Harshwinny snapped angrily.

The tusked herbivore had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not that at all, Monica." The elephant shook his head in annoyance. "As amusing as it is to see you two insult each other, we have other things to take care of he—" He stopped suddenly as he caught sight of the lion standing at the open entrance. "Ah, Mayor Lionheart!" He greeted with relief, thankful for the timely interruption. "So good of you to finally join us."

Noticing all the eyes turn to him, the leonine politician bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything immediately. Breathing deeply through his nose to puff himself up a bit, the predator politician closed the door behind him before explaining, "My sincerest apologies, Councilman Loans. I spilled some coffee on my jacket and had to get it cleaned. I wanted to be presentable for the city council, you understand."

Jumbo nodded his head in understanding; it was always a pain to clean coffee stains out of clothing if it wasn't taken care of right away. "Quite," the older elephant replied before he reclined back into his seat once more. "Fortunately, you haven't missed much of anything Mayor Lionheart. We've—"

"Been watching Ms. Harshwhinny and Mr. Velveteen bite one another's heads off as if they were a troublesome filly and kit," Mr. Hornaday interrupted as he put his cell phone down atop the table to his left, the elderly cervidae's stare firmly glaring at the elephant for attempting to cut him short. He was the President of the City Council and so he would be the one to take charge of things. "And for the record: I don't care if you spill a whole damned coffee cart on your clothes, Lionheart! If I say I need you here now, then I mean right this very moment!" The African antelope snapped angrily at the leonine politician. "We are in a crisis situation and you waste our time with your primping and preening!?"

"Sorry President Hornaday! It won't happen again!" The predator stated as he quickly made his way into the room and took his seat to the right of the horned council head. "So... I take it this is about the phone call I received earlier this evening? Inspector Fox is..." he trailed off, hoping to get someone to admit to the crime.

The greater kudu snorted angrily. "Well, it sure seems that way!" He shifted his gaze to the seat just past the lion. "And it would also appear that our fellow council-mammal Velveteen was stupid enough to have a paw in it!" Oh, how he wanted to add, 'proving rabbits are indeed dumb bunnies' but held his tongue. After all, one only divided and conquered those beneath them, not their fellow conspirators. How else would they keep control of the dimwitted masses?

The Arctic hare however, remained contrite about the whole ordeal. "THE PRED BITCH HAD IT COMING! THAT DAMN YIFFER MADE A MOCKERY OF MY FAMILY AND MY GOOD NAME!" The white-pelted lapin bellowed at the top of his lungs, the audibility and show of aggressiveness made him seem more like a predator than the lion who he normally sat next to at these meetings.

The female mustang in blue blazer let off a derivative snort. "And that would be the fault of the police for not giving us latitude," Ms. Harshwhinny interjected as she glared at the feline sitting across the table from her. "And I believe that the ZPD falls under your jurisdiction, Mr. Mayor... does it not?" She queried, purposely putting him on the spot.

Raising his right paw to the front of his muzzle in an effort to hide his uneasiness, the feline made a show of coughing into his fist. "Ah~hem," Lionheart cleared his throat, even as all eyes turned to him. "I am deeply sorry about that," he told the equine woman. "As it stands, yes, the police are indeed under my jurisdiction. Sadly, the reports that made their way across my desk showed there was no possibility of spinning this... let's say, 'unfortunate circumstance'," he said for Edward's benefit. "Combined with the fact that the, as Councilman Velveteen put it, 'damn Yiffer' has been rising in popularity with the city populace because of these high profile arrests? There just wasn't much I could do without proving there is a conflict of interest! Had she been a rogue cop or someone that had gotten numerous complaints from the citizens, I could have taken care of any issues you had with her no problem!"

As incriminating as it sounded on his part, he had to play along to get them to say more! The Mayor of Zootopia just hoped that the council would be accepting of his excuse to not get further involved and wind up making himself a target along the way.

Fortunately, it seemed that they would when the Council President was the first to respond. "Yes, we know... politics slice both ways." Hornaday shook his head as he sighed in disgust. "A year. We had been building up those two nitwits for a year so we could use their arrest for our, 'October Surprise'... and she went and booked them both on her first altercations with either of them!" He slapped his right and down on the table, hooved digits leaving indentations in the top-wood, making the others gathered flinch in reaction. "So yes, I freely admit I was rather peeved at her myself and that we were discussing ways of dealing with the damn pelt on the down-low." He began to grit and gnashed his teeth. "BUT YOU ON THE OTHER HOOF!?" He raised the hand he had slammed down and pointed a solitary digit at the rabbit in an accusatory manner. "YOU HAD TO MAKE A GOUDA-DAMNED PUBLIC SPECTACLE OF IT!"

His arms crossed over his chest, the lapin spoke in a quieter tone but remained just as firm. "The Yiffer bitch had it coming," Edward told the council head in a petulant tone. "You have to understand, President Hornaday! She arrested my middle child. I had great plans to get him into politics while I had Edmond working the financial side of the family business. Yes, I have another son but he's five-years-old! He won't be ready to be groomed politically for another decade at the very least when on the other paw I was finally ready with Edwin!" He stamped his right foot on the table, causing the contents of the members' cups–whether they be coffee or tea–to shimmer and wave about if not actually spill over a little. "All that time, all that investment into my son's future... and now his reputation is RUINED! He has a criminal record!"

"And you thought blowing her to Kingdom Come won't get you one? That it won't get us all involved as well!?" The greater kudu snapped angrily, causing his white beard to sway to and fro wildly from his jaw snapped rapidly. "Good Gouda, man! That stunt you pulled could bring the police right to all our doorsteps!"

Realizing that the council really should cover their own behinds, the porcine individual of the group spoke up. "By all means, perhaps it would be best for us to just turn Mr. Velveteen over to the ZPD as a sign of good faith towards the people of Zootopia," Mr. O'Hoggish suggested sincerely, much to the shock of everyone gathered. As the others stared at him, he explained, "It's simple economics! When you have a toxic asset, it's best to cut it free and suffer a little fallout now rather than keep it and deal with much worse backlash later."

The Council President looked just past the now horrified rabbit and to the pig closer to the other end of the table. "Oh yes, a wonderful idea, O'Hoggish!" The horned herbivore snapped out sarcastically. "And then we can sit back and wait for the police to cut a deal with the now-free-agent rabbit! Give him the chance to lessen his sentence or even exonerate him and his son of their crimes! Let them go into witness protection in return for bringing the rest of us down!" He stood up, the quick action pushing his chair back as he looked left and right, gazing at everyone gathered around the table. "I told you all this once before and it seems I need to remind you again! We sink or swim together! We're all in deep at this point; the lesser animals wouldn't understand the numerous sacrifices we make for their benefit!"

Although he said nothing in response, Leodore was more than a little insulted. The City Council were more than willing to threaten to give him the shaft if things on his end of the power structure got out of his control with Officer Fox, yet they were willing to give this little crazy rabbit a lifeline despite his obvious psychotic tendencies!?

Ronald couldn't help but snorted. "And you seem to forget something important yourself Council President," the porcine banker replied and stood up as well; the armrests of his chair kept the seat stuck to his rather wide rear before it finally fell free from his oversized porcine posterior due to gravity. "It's the weak link that breaks the chain of command! Even if we kept him on, the ZPD could still make arrests with enough evidence and he could still go turncoat on us to save his own worthless fluffy hide! At least by turning him in ourselves, WE look better in the eyes of the public and can claim plausible deniability later!"

Seeing that tempers beginning to flare once more, the petite mustelidae in pink attire began to diffuse the situation with her motherly touch. "Now, now, calm down. Everyone just calm down... you should realize we could be sunk either way." Mrs. Beaver then looked pointedly at the Arctic hare. "That being said, both Councilman O'Hoggish and President Hornaday have good points. So, Mr. Velveteen, can you give us a good reason to both keep you on and cover up this little... shall we say, little indiscretion of yours?" She furrowed her eyebrows as he opened his mouth. "And don't think that you could hide from us if you went into witness protection either. There wouldn't be a single corner of the globe you could run to where we wouldn't find you." She then smiled sweetly as she reminded him, "It would take time for our names to lose clout and we still have many favors to cash in return for information on you and your family."

The rabbit trembled with barely restrained rage at the thinly veiled threat to his wife and children. "And need I remind you that the Snow Bank is the sole legitimate financial institution in all of the Tundratown District? And don't any of you bring up that Zootenial racketeering crap the Russians preds are trying to pull either! My investment agents don't go breaking good prey mammals' legs if there's a late payment!" Left unsaid was they also broke predator's legs if they fell behind but being carnivores, the lapin felt they deserved it.

Nodding his head, the elderly African antelope replied, "Of course not." He then settled himself back into his chair before adding, "You'll merely compound the interest... and once it's too much for them, you and your firm will take everything they own as collateral." He smirked. "Whether legally above board or not, you're still just as much of a racketeer... like everyone else here, with the exceptions of Mayor Lionheart and Councilman Punjob."

"Hey, I'm okay with that!" The camel sitting at the end of the table opposite Hornaday called out, speaking up for the first time since the meeting had started. "In this case, I'm more than glad to be an exception!" He grinned wider as he otherwise kept silent. After all, if things did end up go South, he could always make a plea to his family's partners in OPEC to give him a hoof with things.

The rabbit snorted. "Needless to say, without me, a lot of things will go wrong when it comes to the flow of money in the Tundratown District. My family and I are the thin line that keeps that section of Zootopia civilized! Without us Velveteens, the criminals like Mr. Big or Mr. Cold will take over!" He clenched his tiny paws into fists. "That is part of WHY I am so upset! With a dirtied name and reputation, these small-minded people might start going to these criminals instead, allowing them the clout they need to take control!"

Considering that for a moment, the greater kudu finally relented and nodded his head. "You do have a point," Hornaday replied before he brought his hooved hand up and rubbed his eyes for a moment. "Ladies and gentlemammals, while I admit this is troublesome, I feel the need to be said that even though this will set our plans back, there are other avenues we can use."

The long-eared prey mammal snorted. "Yeah...especially with that blasted Yiffer out of the way," the rabbit replied bitterly. At least I took vengeance for my humiliation, he thought with unabashed pride. It made him feel like a big mammal for once, despite how much his choice annoyed the other members.

The female mustang glared at the hare across the table from her. "While I'm not a fan of preds either, even I must admit I find your blatant specism is becoming irritating, Edward," Harshwinny spat at him in annoyance. She then rolled her eyes at the looks she got from the others. "What? Even if she was a worthless predator, Officer Fox was a female minority and I find his constant bashing to be an annoyance."

The Arctic hare grit his buck teeth. "Oh gee, standing up for women again? I shouldn't be surprised you'd be so hypocritical since you had no problem whatsoever calling me a, 'dumb bunny' you stupid Na—"

"ENOUGH!" Hornaday yelled, slamming his hands on the table once more, causing the present cups to rattle a second time that day. "If either of you start this shit up again, I'm going to have you both escorted out of here by security! Do you understand!?"

Both the Liberal equine and the Conservative lapin stared at the president of the city council for a moment before calming themselves down. Monica chose to cross her arms over her chest as she leaned back into her chair while Edward turned about and jumped back down onto his own swivel-base recliner before settling himself down onto his specially sized raised seat cushion.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Hornaday nodded his head in satisfaction. "Good. Now that these useless tantrums are out of the way, we can get things back on track. We're still waiting for the ZPD to confirm the body as Inspector Fox's but we all know it was set to go off as soon as the condo door was opened. So unless the pelt gave anyone an extra key, she's as good as toasted. This is going to cause a bit of an upset with the populace. She was already making an all-too-overly positive impression with the populace with those high-scale arrests and we need to get their little minds off of this so-called, 'tragedy' and back onto what's important: that they are citizens of Zootopia, the single greatest city to ever grace the face of this miserable backwards planet!"

"And what do you think we should do, President Hornaday, Sir?" Lionheart calmly asked, trying to lead the conversation to coerce more evidence... yet being as polite and meek as he could while doing it as to not upset the council head or key him onto the fact that he was fishing for information. I just hope Smellweather has enough tape on her end of the wire.

Turning his head to the right to gaze upon the token predator serving as the city's mayor, the antelope explained, "Once Mr. Pig was arrested, I immediately started looking for other avenues to not only gain the awe and adoration of the Zootopia populous but to reaffirm their trust in us. I don't have anything set in stone at the moment but I should have something of substance to announce in a couple of days. Speaking of which..." his eyes gazed over to the right of the leonine subordinate. "Councilman Velveteen!"

The Arctic hare sat up in his seat once more. "Yes?" He queried, sounding the calmest Leodore had heard him be since he first entered this meeting.

"Do you want to make up for what you did, flying off the handle and getting TUSK to blow the damned pred to Kingdom Come?" Although it was phrased as a question, the commanding tone to the horned herbivore's voice let him know that this was anything but a request. "Then I would like for you to loan out your bank for an evening soiree I'm planning... as well as pay for the festivities. Can the City Council depend on you for at least that much?"

The hare mentally grimaced. He knew from the tone that it wasn't a request and that he would lose money out of it... but if it kept him in the good graces of the council? "I'll need to know what day and I'll need time to set things up properly, of course. I just want to warn you, daytime events are almost impossible to pull off. I still need to run my business."

"Hence why what I want isn't for the day but the evening," the greater kudu reiterated. The head of Zootopia's Liberal Party leaned forward in his seat to stare at the lapin whose loyalties lay with the opposite side of the political spectrum. "Your bank is quite spacious... multi-tiered... an absolutely stunning example of Tundratown architecture."

Nodding his head in agreement, the lapin replied, "Well, of course it is. It used to be the site of the Zootopia Preservation Society... before they finally got a space within City Hall proper and moved out of the Tundratown District. My father got it for a steal thanks to his connection with the then city council. What of it?"

A smile slowly spread across the aged herbivore's muzzle, somehow making him appear even more decrepit that he usually did. "Precisely the point I wished to make," he told the smaller prey mammal calmly. "A place like the Snow Bank has history within Zootopia, making it a prime locale for the event I wish to hold. A dinner party and auction for the upper class of society: Zootopia's one-percent and then some. A chance to rub elbows and make new allies."

The feline politician had to resist the urge to fidget; the mane-adorned mammal fighting to keep his anxiousness internalized. "May I ask what is being auctioned?" Mayor Lionheart asked, hoping that more incriminating information would come out.

The greater kudu raised an eyebrow at the predator's obvious interest. "You seem awfully inquisitive, Lionheart..." he trailed off, the fact he dropped the elected mammal's title hinted towards the fact he wasn't please by a pred being uppity like this.

Giving the council president a nervous smile, the leonine bureaucrat then calmly explained, "Well, maybe I would like to buy something, you know? At least something to donate to the famed Zootopia Museum of Natural History in my name..." he trailed off as the antelope smirked at him. "...What?"

Shaking his head, the horned herbivore scoffed at the lion's suggestion. "Please! I doubt you of all mammals could afford anything without a kickback, Leodore." He chuckled at his own joke for a moment. "But if you must know, I am currently making inquiries to numerous international vendors to sell some... shall we say, unique articles. Relics and artifacts of historical significance... that we can then turn around and donate to the city, appearing altruistic while getting a hefty tax break atop of getting a portion of all final sales afterwards."

That explanation made Mr. Loans blink his eyes in shock. "Excuse me... but did you just say we would get a portion of the sales as well?" The elderly elephant's trunk moved to grasp the side of his glasses frame, readjusting his spectacles where they were settled on the base of his trunk. "That doesn't make any sense."

Turning to look at his old political rival, Hornaday gave the tusked man a knowing grin but didn't go into specifics. "Let's just say the mammals I found that are willing to sell pieces of history... do so because aren't normally able to go to more upscale venues to sell their wares... for various reasons, of course. So we give them the not only the chance to appear legitimate but the opportunity to unload their wares and they will give us a cut of the final profits in return."

Although it had been unsaid, the others gathered got the implications of what the president of the city council was saying: these were black market contacts. "What day were you expecting to set this up?" Velveteen asked, the rabbit hoping it would be for a later date rather than sooner. He knew with what happened to his family, numerous sets of eyes would be on them for a while.

Taking a deep breath, the head mammal replied, "I will let you know when I am closer to making my plans reality. I need to find out who is available to attend, when they can, and what they plan to offer. But you can bet this won't happen until two or three weeks at the earliest."

The hare grunted but otherwise nodded his head in acceptance. That was still sooner than he would have preferred but at least it wasn't next week. "That's acceptable," the lapin banker replied cautiously as he looked around the table at everyone. "And I take it since the banks have the big bucks, you'll want us to be the heavy buyers for the big ticket items?"

"I said you would be getting a tax break on it. And with your share of the proceeds, you can see it as receiving an immediate partial refund. What more do you want?" The greater kudu asked in annoyance. "We're in this together, Edward and you personally have a lot to make up for. Dare I say, as it stands you're in hotter water than Lionheart is for having brought that damned Fox to our fair city in the first place!"

The mayor gulped nervously at that comment. He didn't like the sound of that. Still, he kept his mouth shut. The amount of stuff the council members were admitting here was rather impressive. Apparently they truly believed they were untouchable here in the board room...

His ears drooping down to drape across his back, the Arctic hare growled. "Fine. Whatever it takes to get you people to look past my... indiscretion, I'll do it." His eyebrows then furrowed as he told them, "But once I do, don't you all act like you can hold this over my head for the rest of my life! It's not like anyone here hasn't made mistakes!"

"Of course not, dear," Mr. Beaver cooed sweetly... almost patronizingly. "We'll just remind you of it if you ever start to act out of line, that's all." She kept up her smile as she heard her fellow smaller Liberal mammal, Mr. Chipper chuckle at the Conservative's expensive.

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Built during 1867 in Paris' Southern suburb of Montparnasse, there stood the La Santé Prison, a veritable fortress to hold those who broke French law. As decades and even a century went on, France tried to hide this aspect of its law enforcement from the masses by pointedly erecting high-rise buildings around it, changing to skyline to better camouflage this bitter truth about the City of Lights. Those that knew understood that for all its beautiful culture, France had a literal prison district within the borders in its capital city. Overall, the maximum security prison was said to be an inescapable facility... something that hundreds of prisoners found out the hard way. Understandably, it became one of Europe's most infamous prisons thanks to the convicted housed within both its high security and VIP wings.

The VIP wing in particular was what gave La Santé Prison its notoriety. The maximum security wing was specifically designed to imprison what the correctional facility administration referred to as, 'convicts of personality'. It was a special solitary confinement area where proper precautions could be taken to contain various criminals that were more particular in their capabilities than the general facilities could handle; where specific precautions could be taken. Currently, one entire section of the VIP wing was dedicated solely to its most recent resident: Cyrille Le Paradox.

Once renown the world over as a famed collector of rare objects and purveyor of fine art, in reality it turned out the mustached mephitidae was using his museum as a cover for trafficking black market items, priceless relics and treasures illegally taken from their countries of origin and brought to France where he could fabricate a paper trail for them to create legitimacy to their presence. However, merely having these objects in his ownership wasn't enough to satisfy the skunk's ego as his family had been a clan of Master Thieves... and he wanted the recognition for it. So instead of resting on his laurels, the megalomaniacal mammal used his ill-gotten wealth to purchase the technology of the famed criminal genius–and former equally infamous Black Baron–Penelope Maus to construct an aerial fortress that could bend time and space; allowing him to travel through time itself! He had planned to alter history to both create a false royal ancestry to live like a king in the modern era as well as destroy the rival Cooper legacy by neutralizing the thieving family's most prominent ancestors before they could make their mark in history that made them legends.

Ultimately, Le Paradox realized far too late that he had bitten off far more than he could chew and utterly failed at both. Worse still, besides being charged with kidnapping Inspector Fox, he had also been slapped with the charge of murdering an officer of the law as the missing Sly Cooper had been working as a Sargent for Interpol at the time. Needless to say, the mephitidae had all of his assets seized–particularly his extensive art collection–and everything had been donated to the city of Paris. Not that it would have inconvenienced him to have lost everything; the mammal doubted he would live long enough to fulfill his life sentence. All the sinister skunk could do was sit within the minimal Spartan confines his odor-proof cell in the VIP section of the La Santé Prison, wondering where he went wrong.

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to get out of here, set things right, and get some sweet vengeance on that damnable Inspector Fox..." he hissed through gritted teeth. He hadn't killed Cooper–although he wished he had–but getting them to believe him had been impossible. Oh yes, if he was going to rot for someone dying, then he wanted to make sure that it was for someone he actually had the pleasure of killing!

Needless to say, the criminal mammal was taken aback when his rhetorical offer actually got a response. "You might not be able to kill Inspector Fox but I believe you and I could be of use to one another," a voice called out, the tone altered by a hollowed out reverberation.

Such made the skunk bolt forward atop his cot and turn his head to look towards the bulletproof glass door; the barrier long-since covered with a green tint thanks to constant exposure to his natural mephitidae musk. While very opaque, Cyrille could see the form of... well, something standing outside his cell. "Well, well... what do we have here?"

The form outside the confined space took a step closer... allowing the convict to make out that it was an animal more on par with his own height but other than that, the former darling of the art world couldn't make out much through the warped visage that stained the door of his cell. "Someone willing to let you out if you're cooperative, Le Paradox."

"...I'm listening," the former criminal mastermind replied. Hey, it wasn't like he had anything better to do at that moment.

The shape atop the form bobbed, letting the skunk know the animal nodded their head. "I know you've lost not only your personal wealth but your collection of antiquities to Interpol's investigation with the latter being confiscated by the city of Paris as part of the usual European socialist bent in politics. However, that doesn't mean you have to suffer here in the darkness of your cell. I might be willing to release you if you have anything else that Interpol might not have been able to get their hands on."

Getting up from his flimsy bedding, the mephitidae in a bright orange prison jumpsuit turned to face the cell doors. Crossing his arms over his chest, the skunk answered, "...Perhaps I might. Why should I trust you though?"

"I am someone who can manipulate the system," the unknown animal on the other side of the bulletproof door replied. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here talking in person. You're normally posted a pair of correctional officers to guard your cell twenty-four/seven."

That caught Cyrille by surprise. True. He had gotten so used to the silence as neither officer would talk to him when posted on guard duty that, at times, he forgot they were actually there. Part of the whole, 'solitary confinement' issue meant to ebb away at his soul. "So... it's just you and me right now?"

Again, there was the motion of the figure that could be construed as someone bobbing their head in a nod. "Correct," the voice replied.

The former art gallery fancier brought a hand up to rub his chin in thought. "Interesting..." the black and white mammal murmured with a tone of voice that was piqued with intrigue. Someone with this level of connections was usually someone very high up in the government or had enough favors that they could do whatever they wanted. "And what makes you think the authorities haven't taken everything of mine already?"

"I've looked over the various police reports of Inspector Fox concerning your murder of Sargent Cooper," the distorted voice replied. "She mentioned in one of her reports that time travel of all things was involved. Let's be honest, such a thing is a flight of fancy and I doubt she actually did... however I wouldn't have put it past you to have drugged her in some way or another."

Rolling his eyes, Cyrille snorted in annoyance but otherwise held his tongue. Damn all these small-minded fools! Unable to bring themselves to accept that there could be things beyond that of animal imagination. "Still," he began softly. "Be that as it may, it still doesn't answer my question." His eyebrow furrowed. "I ask again: what makes you so sure the authorities haven't taken everything of worth already?"

The form obscured by the door stood there silently for a moment. "The Inspector's reports mentioned something along the lines of, 'counterfeit cave art'," the animal said in all seriousness. "Of all the relics confiscated as evidence and were reassigned to the city, there was nothing older than three-thousand B.C. in the lot. We found no, 'cave art' whatsoever."

Although he knew the other mammal wouldn't see it, a small smile twitched at the right corner of Le Paradox's muzzle. "Ah yes... I knew I was forgetting something. I never got to recover that stash to bring to my museum." He uncrossed his arms and tapped his fingertips together, feeling confident that he could get the upper-hand now that he had a real bargaining chip. "Although why would I ever tell you where it is?"

Although he couldn't make out details through the tainted visibility of his prison cell door, the skunk could tell the form of his visitor shifted to that of a more agitated stance. "And being released is not enough?" The figure demanded to know.

"Well, let's be honest," the mustached mephite began in a rather nonchalant manner. "What's to actually stop you from putting me back in here after you get those paintings?"

"Because what I need those relics for, your presence would aid in their legitimacy," the voice replied.

Now the skunk clad in an orange prison jumpsuit raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh?" He chirruped as he brought his right hand up to the side of his muzzle, slowly preening his mustache. "Is that so? And just how would my presence add legitimacy to the art?"

There was an audible puff of air, revealing the animal on the outside was wearing a gas mask as he changed tanks–it certainly explained why the voice was muffled and reverberating all this time. "While you are criminal, you were known to get authentic artifacts no matter the consequences. You were willing to break the laws to attain whatever you desired and you got it. If the buyers see that you're involved, then there will be no questions asked and we'll both stand to make a considerable amount of coin," the animal outside of the cell explained.

Cyrille immediately perked up. "Buyers? What buyers?"

The animal obscured by the green-tinted barrier chuckled. "Why, these would be the upper-crust elite of Zootopia."

The black and white-furred mammal blinked his eyes as and he ran the name of the city over in the back of his head a few times. "Zootopia, you say... isn't that the city-state that's all, 'goody-goody' and preachy about being tolerant to one another or something?"

"On the surface, yes..." the obscured animal admitted. "And someone in their hierarchy is currently reaching out on ThiefNet to anyone willing to provide them inventory for a special closed auction among the jet-setters... in return for a ten-percent cut of the profits, it gives black marketeers a venue to finally unload hot merchandise they've been holding onto up to now. The perfect place to get paid to unload a lot of cave art, wouldn't you say?"

The skunk couldn't help but smirk. "Cave art from ten-thousand B.C. to be precise."

"AH!" The voice chimed out, sounding positively delighted. "So you do have artifacts that Interpol managed to miss."

The mephitidae barked out a laugh. "Yes, but only because I didn't have the chance to dig it up from the Antarctic ice!" He replied. Oh yes, the stuff was counterfeit, but only in the fact he had that idiot, 'The Grizz' create it back in the day. Carbon-dating would prove it was all authentic in both the materials used and the time it was created. Le Paradox merely had the thug artist bury it where he could find it easily enough in present day.

The figure outside the prison cell mulled over that for a moment. "That far South, huh? That would be a good place to hide it. Even the most dedicated among Interpol wouldn't go down there to find it if they didn't know the exact location."

"While I, on the other paw, do," Le Paradox cooed, an utterly devious expression gracing his features. "So if you don't mind taking a trip to the South Pole with me... and supplying some excavation equipment..." he added as an afterthought. "We might be able to pawn those ice age artifacts off to some rich, over-privileged snobs at Zootopia... and you said they get a ten-percent cut. What about us?"

"We split the remaining ninety percent, fifty-fifty," the mammal adorned in a gas mask replied.

Bringing his right hand to his chin, the mephitidae scratched it in thought. "Huh... so I'' be left with a forty-five percent cut." While it wasn't bad, he certainly could do better. "However, you do realize this is all I have left, right? If I'm going to sell my goods to the highest bidder then I'm going to need the biggest bang for my buck to start over. I want at least the full fifty-percent of the sale and you can have the forty-percent leftover from the Zootopia bigwigs and I."

"...We split what's left fifty-fifty," the mammal on the other side of the filthy door repeated with a steely edge to the reverberating voice. "You said it yourself. I'm going to have to have to pay to get us down to Antarctic as well supply the equipment to uncover your treasures as well as find us some willing muscle to aid us. I will be the one handling the majority of the workload so find receiving an equal share to be reasonable." The unknown animal then snorted. "Besides, without me you would have no chance of escaping, let alone even know about the auction."

The musky mammal's muzzle pulled back in a frown. That much was certainly true, and he didn't want to blow this shot at freedom. "Still... there is one concession from you that I want."

"And that is?"

"I haven't had a slice of limburger cheese in forever!" The skunk wailed. "We've at least got to stop to get some before we head off to the Godforsaken Antarctic!"

The unseen form on the side of the glass opposite the criminal shuddered, as if trying to suppress a chuckle. "Fine. Easy enough."

Cyrille's grin was wide enough that he put fictional psychotic hyena clowns that harassed equally fictitious vengeance-obsessed mask and cape-adorned bats to shame. "Then I'm glad to say that we have a deal."

As he said that, there suddenly came the hiss of hydraulics releasing as the bullet proof door slide forwards off from where it plugged into the wall and away from the skunk before sliding off to the right, allowing much of the old noxious fumes that had filled the room to escape out into the halls of solitary confinement.

Seeing the mammal adorned in a gas-mask standing before his exit to freedom, Le Paradox blinked his eyes in surprise before letting off a laugh. "Ah... I see it is you. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

The mammal nodded his head. "That it has. Now come, we have much work to do."

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Author's Notes: Holy shnikes. I never thought I would finish this chapter. I apologize for the six month wait but I really made sure to give this my best shot to hopefully make up for it.

I do apologize for the delay. I ended up having to babysit my then four-month-old baby niece for two and a half months after both proud parents used up their paternal leave. It left me with little free time and really threw me off the groove I had writing this story in the first place.

Sure, I tried to get back to it sooner than this, but after dealing with a baby in the new year, I ended up very busy, mostly helping my old man with winter... New England is a terrible place to live during winter.

Basically, I wasn't able to really get back to writing until April, and even then this chapter took two months. I needed to reread the story and my notes again to get back into the 'feel' for this story. I'm hopeful I can get back on track again. I'm still very busy... especially since now is the time to help my older niece with getting her driver's license BUT I can assure you, dear readers, that the next chapter will not take as long at all.

In other news? I've been busy with something good as well. Been making preparations to go to TerrifiCon this August at the Mohegan Sun Casino & Resort. After a long time of work, I plan to enjoy myself. I work hard and play hard.

And finally... I want to give a special thanks to Nanya and Innortal. They helped keep me to task as best I could over the past two months and it's thanks to them that I had the drive and the assistance to get this chapter out before the story officially turned a year old rather than... well, with the rate I was going, probably in September.

I hope this is worth the wait.

Try Everything!