Howdy, guys! Oh man, time flies when school is causing you emotional trauma, doesn't it? You know every single time I write one of these things there's something I mean to mention but I can't quite remember what...

Alrighty this chapter mixes the serious of the first few with the lightheartedness of the last few, a mixture I'm not sure if it works well or not, so you'll have to let me know, okay?

On with the chapter!

"You can't really blame me for this," I finally countered half an hour later as I carefully cleaned a laceration on Sly's upper arm with a cotton ball. "In fact, can we start calling Bentley 'Jinx' now?"

"Not a chance," Sly drawled around the stale pizza crust he had clenched in his teeth, "I'm just going with the idea that your bad luck is not affected by distance." He winced as I slapped a gauze pad on his arm and started to wrap it.

"That shirt is ruined," I said, looking at the poor thing, which had been discarded on the floor as soon as I'd fetched the first aid kit. It had taken great effort to just sit down and start working on the new injuries and not comment on the multitude of scars that decorated Sly's bare torso, particularly the large one on his right shoulder, "You have more?"

"Of course, they're cheap and I have no idea how to sew. I have dozens because of this sort of thing."

"I'm sorry, I should have been more careful," Bentley looked sheepishly up from his laptop.

"Don't worry about it, buddy."

"Your overconfidence is your weakness- OW!" I rubbed at the spot where Sly had elbowed me and glared. "You realize that I'm in control of just how much alcohol is used to clean these cuts, right?"

He gave me the most pitiful look he could muster.

"Alright, you guys," Bentley called our attention to the familiar projector and folding table, "So, according to these decrypted files; Octavio is pumping tar from underneath the foundation of buildings so he can sink them on a whim! He's going-"

"Please explain to me how that works."

"Quiet- He's going to demonstrate this destructive ability to the people of Venice during his opera recital on the first day of Carnivale. To-"

"That's kind of sad."

"Indeed- to counter this threat, we'll first destroy the balloons and signs advertising the recital. If no one shows up, he'll have no reason to sink a building."

"Well, what if he gets mad and-"

"Kaia, are you aware of how much super glue I have in my possession?"

I shut up.

"Thank you. Next, the blueprints to the main tar vacuum have been cleverly split and hidden in local coffee houses owned by Octavio. Unfortunately, they're under constant guard, so you'll need to use a disguise to get us inside. Also, some big Vincenetti goons have been called in as 'insurance' for the recital. Given their size, I think it's prudent to trick Carmelita's ape mercenaries into taking them out for us."

"If only she knew how much she'd unwittingly helped you guys over the years."

Bentley let that comment slide, thankfully, "And finally, we'll have to convince Murray to take to the field. If he's learned the Aboriginal 'ball form', it'll be just the thing for destroying the local tar reservoirs."

"But not right now." I said, looking over at Sly and wondering if he'd managed to fall asleep with his eyes open.

"But not right now," Bentley agreed, peeking outside and seeing the rapidly rising sun. "It'll be better to attempt this in the evening. So get some sleep and we'll rendezvous back here in ten hours to divide up the jobs."

Having to sleep on a couch is bad enough. It's even worse if a nightmare causes you to flail and you fall off of said couch.

I grimaced in consternation at the far-from smooth wooden surface that covered the first floor of the Safehouse and could only hope I hadn't gotten any splinters.

Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I looked around and, seeing that the light coming in from the gaps of the boards that covered the windows was slightly orange, decided that it was close enough to time to get up anyway.

Getting to my feet, I ran a hand through my hair and gingerly stepped over Sly, even though I was pretty sure he wouldn't wake up if Carmelita kicked the door in with a battalion of ape mercenaries and a fanfare of trumpets to announce her arrival.

I went upstairs, unsurprised to find Bentley already up.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I asked rhetorically, yawning heavily, "What time is it?"

"Five," He said, not looking up from his maps, even as he lobbed a small object towards me.

I caught the can of soda gratefully and sat out of the way, smothering another yawn and popping the tab on the can after a few seconds. "What are you up to?" Blessed caffeine…

"Trying to figure out the optimum ways to tackle our set of objectives. Congratulations, you get to hit the field this time."

I beamed and did a mini-fist pump, "Yessss…"

"So, why are you up? I thought we'd have to pry you from the couch by force."

I frowned in thought, then answered his question with one of my own, "That scar on Sly's shoulder is from Clockwerk, right?"

He looked at me in slight surprise, "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess."

"… So you had a nightmare?"

"… Not really, more of a bad dream."

"And the difference is…?"

I laughed slightly, "Nightmares freak you out. Bad dreams are just dreams about bad things. I woke up because I was surprised, not because I was scared." That was stretching the truth to a fine line but he didn't have to know that.

"So, what did you dream about?"

I frowned again, focusing on the little bit I could remember, "I think it was about Clockwerk. I know there was metal and copious amounts of blood. Don't know why I dreamed about it, I never have before."

Bentley finally looked up. "But it didn't scare you?"

"No. Clockwerk is dead. I watched all of the parts age and crumble and I saw the hate chip destroyed. No reason to be scared of the past, right?"

He smiled, "Right. All the same, it would probably be best if you didn't-"

"-Tell Sly." I finished with him, "Yeah, I know."

"Speaking of whom, you want to go wake him up? It's about time to get started."

I grinned evilly, "Sure, do you have a water gun I can borrow?"

Bentley waited patiently until he heard a crash, smirking.

"Mwaha, you should have seen the look on your face! Wait- no- back, foul beast! How can you move that fast when you first wake up? No- back!"

A few moments of shrieking laughter and pleas for mercy later, Sly lurched unsteadily up the stairs, one arm locked skillfully around the neck of a struggling Kaia. The look he gave Bentley was nothing short of an indictment as he raised one eyebrow and lifted a bright yellow water pistol into view as though it was diseased.

"You knew this would happen, you traitor." Kaia accused, trying to struggle out of Sly's hold.

The turtle smirked, "I thought it would be a good learning experience. Take a seat you two. Sly, your coffee is over there."

"Do you seriously need the whole pot? Okay, fine, just quit glaring at me."

"Alright, first Sly and I will fan the flames of discontent between the mercenaries and the Vincenetti goons. That'll be an easy enough job for you to wake up, Sly; we won't be doing much but watching the carnage. After that, Kaia, you'll meet me here," He reached out and pointed to a small fireworks stand where the river and a canal met. "And get a bit of training in demolitions. Also," He rummaged a bit through a pile of gadgets before retrieving a long, thin cylinder of metal and a length of nylon, "Since it's your first field mission where it's possible you could get into trouble, you need a means of defending yourself. I assume you know how to use one of these?"

She beamed, taking the baton and extending it with a flick of her wrist, "Sweet. These can do a lot of damage."

"Just for self-defense," Sly said firmly, looking on in something like resignation.

She just smiled and gave him a salute.

I tugged on my fingerless gloves and checked over my outfit. I still had a workout tank top, pale blue this time and darker pants. My thin climbers' shoes had been traded for tennis shoes and a small backpack containing a first-aid kit and a set of lock-picks I didn't know how to use yet.

My binocucom was in a pouch clipped to the back of my pants and my holster hung next to it. I'd never understood why people strapped their weapons to the opposite hip; to me it felt awkward to reach for it that way. But then again, I had weird shoulders in proportion to my body, so that was probably why it was just easier to strap it above and to the right of my tail.

I checked the watch on my wrist, another gadget of Bentley's that automatically synced with his and Sly's, and determined that it was time to head out.

I tugged at the straps of my mini-backpack one last time to make sure I had enough slack to move around, but not so much that it would be sliding around, then headed downstairs.

Unlike my last excursion, I had to walk to avoid suspicion. The day was warm and humid, but the breeze coming off the canals was cool as I made my way along the sidewalk, ducking and weaving out of side streets and alleys to avoid Octavio's guards.

I approached the fireworks stand from the side and rapped on the door with the back of my hand.

"Uh, we're closed! Come back later."

I rolled my eyes, "Bentley, it's me."

There was a brief pause, then a click as the door unlocked, "Come in, quick!"

I slipped inside and looked around with a grin, locking the door behind me, "Well, this looks like fun." Shelves and shelves of explosives lined the back wall and even more shelves lay under a waist-high counter. Bentley was hovering leaning over a device on the counter, connecting some impressive looking wires.

"Could you do me a favor and find the fuses? There should be a roll around here somewhere."

After searching through a bunch of boxes and accidentally inhaling a truly impressive amount of gunpowder, I frowned at the small spool in my hand.

"Uh, Bentley? This is all I could find."

He also frowned when he saw it, "Did you look everywhere?"

"Yeah, this must have been all that was left at the end of the day."

He sighed, "Well, it'll have to do. Come over here."

He showed me the device he'd put together to destroy the anchors of the advertisement balloons and fixed the fuse to it. Just as he finished, a series of three knocks came from the cover on the opposite side of the counter. Bentley opened it instantly and started talking to Sly as I delved into the shelves under the counter in search of more fuses.

"I've taken over this Carnivale fireworks stand as the base of operations for our next job. We need to take out the sign and balloons advertising Octavio's big comeback opera recital."

"I hear ya, if know one shows up for him to extort with his 'building sinking' scheme, then why would he bother with the demonstration? Excavating all that tar seems like a big operation, you'd think he'd hold off until he had an audience."

"Exactly."

"Unless he's prone to temper tantrums." I called, hacking up dust as I came up for air, "Seriously, don't the people who own this stall ever clean?"

Sly smirked while Bentley continued, "Now, I've cobbled together a few explosives powerful enough to destroy the anchors to those balloons. Unfortunately, I'm a little short on fuses."

"Then… I'll be quick." Sly said, tucking the lit package under his arm and taking off at a sprint.

Bentley spoke into the binocucom as Sly disappeared across a bridge, "Be sure to plant the dynamite as soon as you reach the device or – KABOOM – raccoon parts everywhere."

"That's a charming mental image." I said, drawing myself up, "There's really no more fuses, I've looked everywhere."

"Don't worry about it," the turtle said, tapping the tips of his fingers together in thought, "I've got a plan to take out the last two advertisements with one bomb."

Before I could ask how he planned to manage that, Sly ran up panting, "That explosive had some kick!"

"It was a child compared to this ferocious beast!" Bentley sounded positively gleeful, "Don't dilly-dally with this one. It's got a longer fuse, but you've got father to run."

"'Ferocious beast'?"

"Run, Sly, run! Fear the beast!" Bentley said, chucking the TNT like a football as Sly took off running.

"Did you use the rest of the fuses on that?" I yelped when I saw the empty spool.

"Yeah, see?" He asked, pointing at the sound of a large explosion, "Behold stage two, the balloon, carried by the wind, will impact on the Octavio sign. The explosive gases in the balloon will ignite and BAM! Hindenburg part two!"

And yet, it didn't go exactly to plan. Shocking.

"Drat and curses! The wind died. The balloon's caught. Sorry, pal. See if you can climb up there and knock the balloon free. I'll start putting together another explosive."

"With what fuses?"

"I might have to send you back to the Safehouse to get some. Such a shame. I was really looking forward to seeing that balloon burn. Fascinating chemical reaction."

"Uh-huh, you're just secretly a pyromaniac, aren't you?" I asked, unlocking the door and turning the knob.

"Hang on, it looks like- Whoa. Looks like we've got another ferocious beast on this operation!" I looked past Bentley and saw the Octavio sign in flames. How did Sly pull that off? "Come on back and- what?" I jumped when something started pulling on the door I still held the knob of. Bentley rolled over, "Sorry sir, we're currently close-" A huge hand came through the door and clamped onto his wheelchair, "Hey! Let go of me!"

I had my baton out quickly and smacked at the intruder's arm as hard as I could left handed, which, with the not inconsiderable weight of the baton, was pretty dang hard. It retracted immediately and I threw my weight against the door, locking it. "Sly!" I called, hoping Bentley's mic was still on as the turtle in question closed the window as fast as he could, "Get back here, quick!"

My earbud crackled to life, "I'm on my way, just hang on!"

If he said anything else, it was drowned out by the heavy impact on the side door. "Hurry, Sly!" Bentley yelped out, "This guy is crazy! We've got him locked out, but-Oh no!" The door shook on its frame and I backed up, pushing Bentley as far from the door as possible and standing in front of him with my baton out. It wasn't like it would do much good in the close quarters, but I had to do something.

When the door started to split, I set my jaw and planted my feet and Bentley turned back to his binocucom, "Sly- he's breaking down the door, where are you? Please help!"

In an explosion of sawdust and splinters, the door flew open. I leapt, hoping to get a good hit in the split second before the giant figure in the doorway could focus on where everything was in the shop.

I drove my elbow into his gut and was bringing my baton up when something hit me with all the force of a semi. I went flying against the far wall and saw stars.

The world went quiet.

I struggled back to consciousness with difficulty. My head pounded and my eyes didn't seem to want to focus once I'd succeeded in pulling the lids apart.

I'd just barely managed to prop myself up my elbows when I heard footsteps running in the direction of the stand where I lay in the midst of the shattered wood of the door, the shelves that had been on the wall, and gunpowder.

The sound of the approaching steps had me panicking, so I dragged myself over to a wall and got my back to it, holding tightly to the baton I'd found along the way.

My eyes slipped in and out of focus, but I involuntarily relaxed when I saw the figure in the door was mostly blue, "What took you so long?" Wow, my voice sounded like I'd taken to drinking sand.

Sly came over hurriedly, kneeling in the multicolored powders at my side and reaching out gingerly, "You okay? Where are you hurt?"

"Where's Bentley?" I asked as his hand slid behind my neck in support. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine; he's on his way to the Safehouse. You hit your head, right? Let me see."

His voice was mercifully soft and my head flopped forward in response. I felt his fingers running through my hair gently in search of blood and felt obligated to mumble, "I'm fine."

He actually laughed, "You liar." He sounded relieved and amused; his fingers continuing to probe around until they found the site of impact. "Well, it didn't break the skin, but you've got quite an impressive bump. We're talking Guinness World Record breaking."

"I'm rich, I'm rich!" I mock cheered. I waited until Sly was laughing again before asking, "Who was that guy anyway?"

"You got into a scrape with the man himself. It was Octavio. On that note, what on Earth were you thinking? He's four times your size."

"Well, mostly I was thinking 'Oh crap, oh crap, he's breaking down the door. Oh crap, oh crap, where's Sly? Oh crap, oh crap, protect the cripple. Oh crap, oh crap.'" I managed to dredge up a small smile at Sly's grimace and asked, "That was Octavio? He's got one heck of a right hook."

"He hit you? I thought he just shoved you out of the way and you hit your head!"

"Nope, he knocked me clear across the room. That impressive bump came from the far wall. Or one of the shelves, I can't really remember." My eyes finally decided to focus when Sly started growling and I caught sight of my left arm, "Oh, hey. Blood."

Sly's unoccupied hand immediately came around and curled under my wrist, lifting it so he could inspect the damage. He hissed, whether in sympathy or rage I couldn't tell, "Ouch."

"I actually just now felt it." Ouch was an understatement.

"You have a first aid kit, right?"

"Yeah, in my backpack." I shrugged it off with his help and a pad and few strips of gauze later, he'd constructed a temporary bandage.

"We've got to go back to the Safehouse and wash the dye powder out of your fur before we can clean that properly," He explained, getting his feet under him, "Can you walk?" He asked, hooking a hand under my elbow.

"Of course." My voice was confident, but I was more than a little wobbly once I got to my feet, not in the least because my head was protesting violently. Thankfully, Sly didn't let go of me, even once we started walking. After a few minutes, the words came without my conscious permission, "I'm sorry."

He actually did a double take, "What for?"

"Octavio must have followed me to the fireworks stand. I should have been more careful not to be followed."

"Don't be stupid." Sly's voice was surprisingly firm, "If he'd followed you, he could have gotten in when you did, before I even got there. He mentioned an inside man in the police, he could have insiders anywhere. It's far more likely that one of them saw me running one of the bombs from the fireworks stand and tipped him off."

I couldn't really think of anything to say to that, so instead I asked, "He has an insider in the police?"

"Yeah, they intercepted the pictures we sent to the police of Octavio being behind the tar. That must be why Carmelita hired mercenaries instead of trusting the locals."

"Makes sense. Oh, thank God, salvation is near." I said as we reached the Safehouse. Sly got the door open and I lurched unsteadily up the stairs and into the main room.

"Kaia!" Bentley wheeled over as fast as his skinny arms could take him, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, nothing to worry about!" I gave him my best 'I'm-totally-peachy' grin. "What about you, are you hurt?"

"My ego's bruised, but it'll heal." He drawled dryly, giving a small smile.

Sly came up after bolting the door and immediately set about undermining my attempt to brush off the encounter. "She hit her head pretty hard and she's got some cuts where Octavio's claws got her. Figured we needed to get the dye out of her fur before we could clean them properly."

"Thanks, Sly."

"You figured right. It's the third day since she put it on, a hot shower should do it."

"Great. Shower through here?" I ducked inside the bathroom and slammed and locked the door behind me.

"Kaia! Get back out here; I need to check you for a concussion!"

"No! I'll come out once I get out the dye and gunpowder. And I think there's copper flakes in here too." I said, looking over the funny colored glints in my fur. "I'll be out in a bit!"

Bentley sighed, sitting back in his chair and turning to his friend, "What do you think?"

The raccoon sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. "It's hard to say. She was coherent by the time I got there, but I don't know if she was knocked out or just knocked for a loop. I don't think she has a concussion because her speech is fine and she didn't seem to get dizzy on the way to the Safehouse, but those cuts on her arm do not look good."

The turtle nodded, "I agree. I think we should keep an eye on her through the night and arrange for her to be woken up every few hours, just in case. But, Sly," Here Bentley looked away, finding a miniscule chip in the wood of the table very fascinating, "She winded him and I think fractured something in his arm. And I couldn't do anything. I just panicked; I should have tried to hit him with one of my darts or something."

"Hey, don't worry about it, buddy." Sly said, "Everyone panics sometimes. What's important is that you know what it feels like and fight it off next time, right?"

Bentley took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out, "Right, thanks."

Not long after, Bentley headed out to go talk to Murray about taking out the tar reservoirs and Sly started to read the Thievius Raccoonus for the nth time.

It was silent until Kaia called out from behind the bathroom door, "Uh, guys?"

…

Well, crap.

Note to self, in future; think it through before locking yourself in the bathroom.

"Uh, guys?" I called, holding the towel tightly around myself and listening intently for a reply.

"Something wrong, Jinx?"

I fought the urge to beat my head against the door. Somehow this would have been less awkward if Bentley had answered, "Could you do me a favor?"

I heard him get up and walk in the direction of the bathroom, "What's up?"

"Could you go get my bag for me? I forgot to grab a change of clothes before heading in here."

There was heartbeat of silence, "Yeah, sure."

As he headed downstairs, I inspected my arm. With all the black gone, the gashes were red and angry against the white of my fur. There were three that were fairly deep and a fourth that was barely more than a scratch. I wrapped a hand towel loosely around it while I waited.

I didn't have to wait long before a knock came at the door. "Got your bag, Jinx."

I gripped my towel a little tighter with my right hand and opened the door as little as possible, reaching through it with my left. A weight was settled into it, but just as I was about to withdraw it, I felt the towel I'd wrapped around it slip off.

My wrist was seized firmly. I swallowed hard, "Sly, can I have my hand back?"

I felt his fingers tracing something on my forearm, "These weren't here last year." It took me a second to figure out that he was talking about the thin scars I'd obtained from an unfortunate encounter with a tiger with the blood alcohol content of a small army of off-duty medical personnel. They were nearly invisible… unless the viewer was up close and personal and my fur was still fluffed up from my shower.

I bit the inside of my lip, "Very observant. Hand?"

His grip tightened infinitesimally, "What happened?"

I felt like punching him, "I'll tell you while you're patching me up, okay?"

He seemed to realize just how uncomfortable this situation was making me and dropped my arm. I drew it and the bag it held in quickly, closing the door again. I heard him clear his throat, "Wear something casual, Bentley's next job for you requires you to blend in."

They were letting me go out again? Awesome! I thought they were going to lock me in the Safehouse for a couple of months before letting me try again. I rummaged through my bag and found an older pair of jeans and a pale pink T-shirt. I towel-dried my hair violently before slipping into my clothes, then ran a comb through it, hoping it would behave for a while.

When I stepped out, Sly was sitting sideways to the table, where a medley of bandages was spread out. I rolled my eyes when he waved me to the chair across from him, but sat and offered him my arm.

He took it and lifted an alcohol swab with a devious glint in his eyes, "Payback."

"Don't you dare." I said, but my lips twitched in response. This was more like it.

Contrary to his words, he was extremely careful in cleaning the cuts. "So," he said casually, "What happened?"

I sighed, "Last September I was downtown with some friends. I'd wandered off out of boredom. I saw a tiger, completely plastered even though it was barely noon, yelling at his kid. After I saw him hit the boy, I don't even remember crossing the street, just throwing a punch. Yeah, I know, it was stupid and I was outmatched and should have gone to get help, but I was able to take him down with a kidney shot and I went to get help after that."

"But not before he gave you these," He remarked, running his fingers lightly over the thin scars, taking my other arm and locating the ones there too.

"That's it in one."

He pressed a gauze pad to the fresh cuts and began the tedious process of wrapping them up, "But what made you do that? It seems like a very concentrated reaction."

I cursed him mentally in several languages for choosing now to be perceptive, "When I was little, I went over to a friend's house. Her dad was an alcoholic and I was there on one of the bad days. I told my dad when he came to pick me up, but I always felt bad that I couldn't do anything to stop it at the time."

"How old were you?"

I had to think about that for a second, watching as he fastened the bandage in place, "It was third grade so… I must have been eight."

As he was so fond of doing, he dropped his hand on my head and gave the hair there a gentle tousle, being carefully of the bump.

"Hey, I just brushed my hair!" I complained, glaring at him from under the newly-apparent fringe.

Instead of retorting, he just grinned down at me, "Seems like every time you open your mouth nowadays, you're surprising me."

I was spared having to come up with a response by the Safehouse door opening and admitting Bentley, who used his lovely spring invention to scale the stairs.

"Oh, that's nice," He drawled, rolling into view. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at the sight of his shell and blue bicycle helmet splattered with little drops of tar, "I'm out, battling environmental crisis, and you two are sitting in here, bonding. No, by all means, don't get up, I've got it."

I laughed, sitting back in my chair, "So I take it the operation was a success?"

"Yup, they were nothing before 'The Murray'," He quoted, scrubbing his helmet clean with a washcloth. "Just one more job to pull for the day."

"The blueprints, right?" I asked, calling the slideshow to mind, "The ones in the coffee shops. Mmm… coffee…"

"The shops are closed down for Carnivale," Bentley said in amusement. "Sly is going to disguise himself as a guard and pretend to be the relief shift so I can get inside and find the blueprints."

"What about me?" I asked, looking down at my outfit.

"You are going to cause a little ruckus to draw attention away from the coffee shops," he said, hefting a wicked looking wrench with a smile, "How do you feel about sabotage?"

And that's a wrap! I only did a skim-proofread of this (thank you for your edits Mandy, you're the greatest) because it's 1:30 in the morning and I don't feel like reading the whole think at the moment.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought and don't forget to check out the series's blog for fanart, commentary, bios, etc. Link's on my profile page.