Chapter 5- Uninvited Guests
The first fingers of dawn began to creep over the horizon, illuminating the scene of an early morning Paris with warm golden light. The charred husk of Interpol still smoldered slightly, with only one fire truck to guard the scene. It was all serenely peaceful. Yesterday, it was a blazing inferno the likes of which Paris hadn't seen in years, but today, aside from the ashes of the building, it was like it never happened. The birds chirped obliviously, and the wind rustled the leaves of the trees on all of the street corners.
The curtains of the window in Sly's room had been pulled back, and therefore did little good when the sun began to show its head. The warm tendrils of sunlight began to wander up Carmelita's face, waking her gently. Lifting her head slightly, she slowly opened her eyes. Blinking away the sunlight, she turned her head back into the pillow. 'Pillow,' she thought. Using her arms to prop herself up, she looked around in the bed, but Sly was nowhere to be seen. A warm comforter had been pulled over her, though, which she was grateful for. The room itself was rather cold, and would have been hard to sleep in without the warmth of his body to go along with hers.
Swinging her legs slowly out of bed, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. Yawning deeply, she stretched out her arms. Reaching down, she readjusted the bandage wrapped around her thigh, and then stood up. Walking slowly towards the door, she exited the room and began to make her way down the hallway. The smell of pancakes drifted lazily through the air, tantalizing her sense of smell and drawing her closer to the source. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she placed her hand on the banister and used it to gently lower herself down to the floor. The wood paneling felt cool underneath her feet, which she took a moment to enjoy. Continuing on towards the kitchen, she opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of the freshly cooked breakfast hit the hungry vixen hard, causing her stomach to grumble loudly and alert the rest of the gang to her presence. Sly looked up at her, smiling.
"Sounds like somebody's hungry," he said, drawing out a chair from beneath the table and beckoning for her to sit. She obliged willingly, sitting down in the chair that he had prepared for her. Sly placed a steaming breakfast platter in front of her, which she took to with gusto.
A stack of three homemade pancakes, smothered in butter and syrup sat upon a cradle of bacon strips, cooked to perfection. Two smoked sausages rounded out the edge of the plate, completing the simple meal. Simple it may have been, but having not eaten for almost a full day, it was the best thing that Carmelita had ever tasted. Sly walked over to the fridge and opened the door with a small clack, and drew out a pitcher of orange juice. Grabbing a clean cup from the sink, he poured Carmelita a glass, which she graciously accepted. Sly was amazed at just how quickly she was devouring the contents of her plate.
"The way you are eating," he said with mock astonishment, "you would think that you hadn't eaten in years!"
Carmelita gave him a glare from overtop her glass, and then set it down after finishing off its contents. "I'm used to 3 meals a day, so going a full day without eating anything has left me a little on the hungry side."
"I noticed," said Bentley, chiming in for the first time that morning. Carmelita looked over at him.
"I thought that you said that you didn't have any food?"
"We didn't," replied a smiling Murray. "But Sly made a run to the market a couple hours ago." The burly hippo patted his stomach, as if thanking Sly for getting the food.
Carmelita scanned the room until she found the microwave. Checking the clock on the small digital display, she found it to be 3 in the afternoon. "Are you telling me that I slept for 11 hours?" she said, surprised.
"Yep," said Sly. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to run to the store with me to pick out a few things that you liked, but you were sleeping so peacefully!" he said with a goofy grin on his face. "I didn't want to disturb your beauty rest."
Carmelita snorted. "Right, beauty rest."
"You should have seen yourself," said a still smiling Sly. "You looked like a little angel." Reaching over to a nearby counter, he picked up what looked like a pair of binoculars. Flipping up a small screen on the top of them, he pressed a few buttons and then showed it to Carmelita.
Much to her surprise, and displeasure, it was a picture of her sleeping. She gave Sly a disgusted look. "You took pictures of me when I was sleeping? Creeper." She gave the picture a closer look, and saw that she really did look like an angel. She wasn't being vain, mind you, but she couldn't help but notice how peaceful she looked. She was snuggled up against the pillow with what looked like a small smile on her face, with the afternoon sun filtering through the window creating a halo around her. She was flattered that Sly thought she looked good enough to take a picture of, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "It's not nice to take pictures of someone who is sleeping, Cooper," she said, feigning disgust fairly convincingly.
Sly shrugged at hearing her say this. "I know, but I just couldn't help it." Picking up his and Carmelita's now empty plates, he walked them over to the counter and placed them next to the sink to await a wash.
Without warning, a loud crash came from upstairs, followed with what sounded like footsteps. Sly gave the rest of the gang, and Carmelita, a worried glance, and then made his way quietly over to the stairs. Leaning over the first few to look up the stair well, he quickly made his way up with nary a sound. He made it to the second story, and took a quick glance down the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he remounted the stairs and headed up to the third floor. As soon as he got up to the top, he pressed his back against the wall and made his way silently along the hallway. Sly's keen eyes picked up a slight movement of a door at the end of the hall. Sliding noiselessly along with his body still pressed to the wall, he made his way towards the room where he saw the door move. Stopping next to the partially open door, he leaned his head closer towards it, perking up his ears to try and detect anything coming from inside. Hearing nothing, he slowly placed his hand on the edge of the door and swung it open far enough for him to fit inside. As soon as he entered the room he heard another small noise, causing him to drop instinctively into a crouch. Looking around from his lowered position, he saw a shadow dart into the room kitchen.
"Stop!" He yelled at the unknown figure. Rising from his crouch, he ran forwards. Leaping over an end table, he slid into the kitchen, the tile floors causing him to momentarily lose his balance and stumble. Had he not stumbled, he would have been struck in the head by a frying pan lobbed by the intruder. His eyes growing wide from the near miss, Sly regained his balance and then shot forwards into the midriff of his attacker, knocking the breath out of him. They both slammed against the counter of the old kitchen, knocking long disused plates and bowls everywhere. Sly gained the upper hand by pinning the hooded figure against a wooden cabinet, causing it to creak loudly. The attacker, who Sly now realized to be a hare, dropped one of his legs in between Sly's and kicked outwards, knocking him to the ground. Hitting the antique tile with a thud, Sly was momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of the shift of control, the hare kicked viciously at Sly's head, causing his nose to start bleeding.
Looking around the small kitchen space, the attacker grabbed a glass bottle and smashed it over the edge of the counter, creating a jagged edge that gleamed dangerously. Leaning down to Sly's barely conscious body, he placed the edge of the glass against his throat. Placing his cloaked face next to Sly's, his voice came out harshly. "Any last words?" He hissed, elongating his 'S' sounds.
Not taking the time to respond, Sly reached up and grabbed the handle of one of the lower cabinet doors, throwing it open and catching his assailant a large crack on the head. Dropping the bottle with a growl of pain, it shattered against the floor in a loud crash. Stumbling backwards, the hare ran his back into the counter.
Quickly wiping the blood from his face, Sly bolted up and struck out at the hare with a clenched fist, which was promptly avoided. Sly's fist struck the side of a cabinet, cracking the wood and sending up a cloud of dust. Reaching out with his other hand, he grabbed the hood that the hare was wearing and tore it off, casting it to the ground.
The hare lashed out again with his long legs, catching Sly a powerful blow in the chest.
Winded, Sly summoned up his remaining energy and shot his head forwards, striking the hare on the chin and shooting him up in the air. Collapsing with a loud crash onto the floor, the hare groaned and lost consciousness; blood flowing freely from his mouth which contrasted greatly with the white tiles.
Wiping off his still bleeding nose, Sly reached into a nearby drawer and took out a dish cloth. Tearing it lengthwise, he took it and bound the hare's hands and feet together; immobilizing him should he come to his senses. Walking unsteadily towards the exit of the room, he stumbled momentarily. 'Some couple of days this has been,' he thought to himself.
After much effort, he finally made it back to the main floor and regained his companions.
"Oh my God Sly, what happened?" Exclaimed a surprised Carmelita, rushing forwards to catch Sly just as he collapsed.
"Murray," said Bentley. "Run upstairs and make sure everything has been taken care of up there."
"On it!"
Bentley continued on, "Penelope, come over here and help Ms Fox carry Sly over to the couch. I'll go and get something to stop his nose from bleeding so much."
Penelope walked quickly over to where Sly was and placed his arm over her shoulder to support him. With the aid of Carmelita, they made it to the couch quickly and carefully laid him down.
"Thanks guys," he said softly. "I found the intruder up there, and he put up quite a fight. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't armed."
Carmelita gave him an odd look. "He wasn't armed? Who breaks into a building with no means of protection?"
"Someone who doesn't need it," said Penelope, speaking up for the first time since Sly rejoined them. "He either didn't expect anyone to be in here, or he knew that he would be able to hold his own should things go south."
"He certainly held up," replied Sly, wincing as he gingerly touched the tip of his nose. "I got the best of him out of sheer luck by bashing him under the chin with my head."
"For once that hard head of yours came in handy," joked Carmelita.
Sly gave her a sarcastic grin. "Ha ha, very funny." A sound by the stairs caused him to look up just in time to see Murray coming down them with a gray bundle in his arms.
"Look what I found in one of the rooms," he said. "Sly musta' beat the snot outta this guy, 'cause he ain't moving." Walking over to where the others were seated, he none too gently flopped the limp body of the hare onto the ground, checking his improvised bonds to make sure they were still in place.
The four stared dumbly at each other, unable to think of anything to say. Bentley broke the silence when he wheeled himself back into the room with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a washcloth. "Alright, Sly," he said, "This may hurt bit, but it should help your nose." Placing the cloth on top of the bottle, he upended it to soak a small patch. Screwing the cap back onto the bottle, he came closer to his injured friend and placed the alcohol soaked rag on his snout. He felt bad when Sly cringed in pain, but he knew that he was helping. Dabbing gently around the edge of his snout, he soaked up the blood and disinfected the immediate area.
Unable to take it anymore, Sly pulled his head away and held up his hand to signal Bentley that it was time to stop. Heeding his friend's plea, Bentley folded up the blood stained cloth and placed it on the floor next to the couch. "Alright, I'm feeling better now," he said. "Let's go and see if we can't wake up our little friend over there." He gestured over to the bound form on the floor that was beginning to moan softly.
Standing up unsteadily, he made his way over to the hare and leaned over him. Patting him firmly a few times on the face, he tried to get him to come to. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he said sarcastically. After a few more slaps on the face, the hare's eyes flew open and began to dart around the room, finally coming to a rest on Sly.
"Kill me now," he said, his voice dripping contempt.
"Why?" Replied Sly, returning the unflinching look of his adversary.
"Ambroise will be most displeased that I have failed," he replied, his voice hard. "I may have tried to kill you," he hissed, "but now I must ask you to kill me so that I do not have to face the fury of my master, and to retain my honor to the numbers."
Sly furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?" he said. "Who is Ambroise and what are the numbers?"
"That is of no concern to you, insolent bastard."
"Well he certainly has a temper to him," came the voice of Carmelita from somewhere behind him.
Sly nodded in agreement, and then pinned the hare's bound hands to the floor to keep him from struggling in his binds.
"I will not repeat myself, raccoon, kill me now," he hissed.
"Not until we get answers," Sly replied, not once losing his cool. "And even then, I'm not really the type of person to kill somebody, so you would really have to do some convincing."
As soon as he finished saying this, a loud bang came from behind them, and the struggling form underneath Sly's hands became limp. Blood began to flow freely from a large hole that had appeared on the hare's forehead.
The entire gang turned around quickly to see an elderly bat holding a pistol, the barrel of which was still smoking.
"Sorry fellas," he said with a shrug, holstering his weapon. "But he did have it coming, no?"
Sly stood bolt upright, prepared for a fight. The rest of the gang, including Carmelita, joined him by his side. Much to their surprise, the bat stepped forwards and extended his wing beckoning for Sly to shake his hand.
"Don't you worry yourselves," he said, "I'm not here to kill you like that fool was. I'm here to ask for your help."
Sly gave him an uneasy look. "Yeah, well someone we don't know busting in here and killing another person that we don't know doesn't exactly sit well with us."
"I understand that you may be a little surprised, Monsieur Cooper," said the bat, "but I will gladly answer any questions that it may take for you to trust me even in the slightest. Time is of the essence, mind you, but I have time to spare."
"Ok," said Sly, standing back up straight and relaxing his muscles a little. "Who are you? That seems like a good place as any to start."
The bat took an elegant bow, flourishing with his right wing. "Luc Artimidoreous Gaud, former Number 13 at your service, monsieur."
"Former Number 13, what do you mean?" asked Penelope.
"Exactly what I said, mademoiselle," he said with a wink. "I am, as of today, a former member of the Numbers Organization, the private security and special operations force of one Ambroise Roush. Any more questions?"
"A few, yes," replied Bentley. "Now that we know who you are, or at least who you say you are, who is that man that you just killed?" He gestured towards the still bleeding hare in the middle of the floor, who had a look of surprise frozen upon his features.
"Ah, of course. You all may still be a little surprised at my killing of him, but I give you my word that the world is one step closer to being a better place with him out of it." The bat walked over to the dead hare and lowered himself into a kneeling position. Reaching out, he placed his hand on its muzzle and drew back its lips, revealing a golden tooth where one of the canine teeth should have been. Inscribed onto it was the number 7. After he was sure that the entire gang had gotten a good look at it, he lowered the lips back into place. "Number 7," he continued. "Lucas Marlan, recon specialist, and although I never got to witness it in person I hear that he is an accomplished hand to hand fighter as well."
"You can say that again," said Sly, stepping forwards. "You said that you are a member of the Numbers,"
"Former member," quipped the dark colored bat.
"Right, former member," Sly continued. "And the hare, Lucas, was also a member."
"Correct."
"Ok then, what exactly are the Numbers?"
"I do believe I answered that in a previous statement, but no matter. The Numbers are the private security force and special operations team of Ambroise Roush. A very dangerous, highly trained group of individuals that were all sought out for our skills and talents, mine being psychological warfare and fear tactics." He gave the gang a few glances, noting there expressions. "I may be old, gentlemen, but I could easily best any one of you in a fight." He smiled before continuing; revealing his sharp, white teeth. "You would be too scared to move for the next week…"
"Next question," said Sly, trying to avoid thinking of what the old bat had meant by that last phrase. "Who is this Ambroise, and why should it concern us?"
Luc neatly folded his wings behind him and began to pace. "Ambroise is the most powerful person on the planet. I mean that not in terms of who he controls, but literally."
"Literally?" asked Murray.
"Yes. He is ten times as old as I, ten times as wise, and one hundred times as powerful. He could rip every single one of us to pieces in the blink of an eye."
Bentley adopted an expression of confusion. "How old are you, Mr Gaud?"
"One hundred and seven," He said with a smile and a tilt of the head. "Yet still as active as any one of you young ones."
"Wait wait wait," said Sly, "You said that this Ambroise guy is ten times as old as you?"
"You did not hear me wrong, Cooper."
"But that would make him over a thousand years old," came Penelope's squeaky voice.
Luc gave her a nod. "Yes young lady, that would make him over a thousand years old. Older than that, truthfully, but I only count someone alive if they know what is going on around them." He once again noted the expressions on all of the faces around him. "He is a saber tooth tiger," he added, almost nonchalantly.
"But those went extinct over eleven thousand years ago!" said Bentley in surprise. "How could one have survived for that long?"
"I believe an owl that you have had some encounters with in the past could answer that question."
"Clockwerk?" Said Sly, stepping over the body of Lucas and towards the bat. "Are you telling me that he used the same technique as Clockwerk to live this long?"
"Yes and no," replied Luc. "You see, Clockwerk was the one that made him how he is…"
A/N
Ok wow, this chapter jumps all over the place; it starts out fairly peaceful, then a massive fist fight breaks out, then the next thing you know a guy is laying dead in the floor and you are being slowly dragged into a giant conspiracy. I rewrote this chapter several times, and this is the one that sounded best to me. I hope you enjoyed reading!11!
-Jake