Who has two thumbs and totally forgot to post this chapter last night?

This girl.

Hope you enjoy!

"I have to say," I smiled up at the building in front of us, "This is already my favorite operation."

"Would that be because we're staying in a place with actual beds, or because we actually got invited?" Sly asked as he handed me my luggage from the trunk of the car.

I shrugged, "Both. And I don't have to fit my life into a tiny little backpack." I patted my new rolling suitcase affectionately.

He seemed just short of rolling his eyes, "We're only going to be here for a couple of days."

"Sly, I have two parachutes in this bag. Do not make me waste one in smothering you in your sleep."

Before the slightly offended raccoon could reply, a voice hailed us from the doorway of the large hotel, "About time you two got here!"

I grinned at Bentley, "Sly gave the driver bad directions."

"I did not. You don't even speak Dutch, how would you know?"

"I'm pretty sure that particular hand gesture is universal."

"All right, you two, come on." Bentley said, though he rolled his eyes, "Our room is this way."

"Fluffy bed!" I launched myself at the bed nearest the AC and almost went flying into the wall when it bounced. I got a truly amazing amount of air time. "There's chocolates on the pillows!"

"Hey, Jinx, think fast!"

I looked up just in time to be smashed in the face with a pillow.

Bentley shook his head, "Six year olds. I work with six year olds."

"That's not nice, Bentley. I like to think of myself as at least seven!"

"If we can begin," He ignored my last comment, rolling himself over to the table in front of the balcony windows, and tossing a paper-wrapped package to both me and Sly. "There're your disguises. Time to mingle."

The feeling of the beginning of a job is a bit like the feeling of getting in line to ride a roller coaster, you're excited and impatient, but also wary because you're starting to remember that half the fun of it is the direct defiance of your self-preservation instincts.

"Why exactly are we mingling, Bentley?" I asked, casting aside my longer, more comfortable coat in favor of the aviator jacket provided and the pale gold silk scarf.

"You and Sly are the faces of our team in this competition, they'll be looking to size you up. The less focus on the rest of us the better, we need to be as under the radar as possible."

"So we're bait."

"Exactly. Besides, if we're going to succeed in this year's ACEs competition, we're going to need to know who we're fighting against."

"What?" Sly was in the middle of pulling on his own jacket when that comment registered, "They keep the flight roster a secret?"

"Correct. In years past competitors would go out at night and sabotage each other's planes in preparation for the next day's dogfight." Bentley explained.

"I get it, so now they keep the lineup a secret so no one knows who to mess with."

"Precisely." He turned to look at us gravely, "Look guys, you're a good team, but we've only got one plane and you'll be up there against dozens of bogeys."

"Great, we're flying against saboteurs, outnumbered thirty to one, and the flight roster is a secret. Awesome." I wrestled with my scarf in agitation.

"Normally, I'd makes some sarcastic comment about how 'overwhelmed I am by your confidence in me'… but those are some pretty grim odds." Sly admitted, before giving his traditional grin. "And well, you know, I'm always up for some sabotage."

"Glad to hear it," Bentley smirked, adjusting his headset and situating himself at the binocucom station, "Now, the roster is kept secret from the pilots, but not from the event staff."

"Do we have a mole on the inside?"

"Our 'friend' Dimitri, has been hired to give color commentary during the dogfights... he'll know where the roster's hidden. Scout around for him in the hotel lobby, but be careful. If you start a fight with the other competitors, we'll be thrown out of the competition."

"Sure," Sly drawled, "We all play nice until tomorrow, then we blow each other to bits at three hundred feet."

"That's about ten times what it takes to kill you if you fall." I commented, pulling my ever-growing hair into a set of low pigtails so I could tug on my flight cap.

"Thanks for that, Jinx. Thanks a lot."

I grinned, hung my goggles around my neck, and followed him out into the lobby.

"Ah," I inhaled and smiled, "The smell of hot food. Wonderful."

Sly rolled his eyes, smiling, and tapped my head to get my attention, "Don't get distracted. Some of these people are going to be trying to shoot us down tomorrow."

"Always a killjoy," I sighed, ignoring his protest, "So, where's Dimitri?" Sly nodded in the direction of the bar and I followed his gaze to a huge purple lizard knocking back the liquor like it was water, "What is he wearing? That's horrific."

"Don't tell him that," Sly warned, "I did and he tried to kill me."

"Great, we're going to get crucial information from a sleazy lizard who speaks only bad slang, has the fashion sense of a colorblind toadstool and apparently a drinking problem. There's no way this could possibly go wrong."

"That's the spirit!" Sly said, striding down the stairs and making me have to half-jog in order to catch up to him. Stupid long legs when he's not slinking around in the shadows…

By the time we reached Dimitri, he'd lit a cigarette and had his own personal black cloud orbiting his head.

"Dimitri," Sly took the lead immediately. It must be a guy thing to get that self-satisfied smirk whenever you talk to someone you've recently beaten to a pulp, "Fancy seeing you here. I never pegged you as a flyboy."

"Like a dance floor with many lights, I have many profiles, dig?" Dimitri said as though he were addressing a crowd of adoring fans rather than a mostly-empty room, "Do not even try to understand the silky enigma of Dimitri."

I coughed, half from the secondhand smoke and half to cover my incredulous laughter. It was like this guy learned English by listening to bad rap and pop music. Unfortunately, my cough drew his attention.

"Ah, what has appeared before me like disco shine on the dance floor?" The tall lizard ran a hand through his hair in a way that he probably thought made him look devastatingly handsome, but really just caused me to wonder if he had showered in the last month because of the massive amount of light his hair greasily reflected. Before I could really react, he'd grabbed my hand, "Do not try and resist Dimitri; the magnets, they attract."

It took me a second to realize that he was hitting on me. My expression became that of the unsuspecting person confronted with the smell of curdled milk and I barely had time to yank my hand away before he could plant a kiss on it. Ewwww… there was grease residue on my hand!

I spotted a pint of something undoubtedly alcoholic nearby and dunked my violated hand into it, hoping the cleansing properties of alcohol still applied. I turned to look at Sly, who appeared torn between hysterical laughter, and the urge I shared to punch Dimitri in the face.

He snapped his fingers in front of Dimitri's face. The large lizard flinched and turned to regard Sly irritably. Apparently he didn't like being reminded of the last time they'd met in Paris. Excellent.

"Bentley seemed to think you had a copy of the ACEs flight lineup." Sly said, getting back to business, "That true?"

Dimitri huffed and crossed his arms. "And why should I talk to a two-bit, rooty-poot, cracker box like you? Question mark in bold- why?"

Sly's slightly threatening smile never wavered, but his eyes narrowed, making it a bit more intimidating, "You wouldn't have bothered showing up if you didn't want to talk, so… spill it."

"I know, but to talk is like sitting on electric chair," the forger knocked back another glass of what had to be hard liquor, "The Baron has eye. Eyes and ears. Ears and fists! Dimitri will be discovered, and then the jig is pinched!"

I exchanged looks with Sly, raising an eyebrow. He sighed to himself in something like resignation, and turned his gaze back to our 'informant'. "Come on now, Dimitri. A man like you can deal with this Black Baron. You've got the best fashion sense of anyone I know." He seemed in between laughing and choking on the words.

"Le fashion? Style? You… you're right. If I can outdress him I can certainly outsmart him! All is told through clothes." At that statement, I had to resist the urge to give the most disbelieving glance in the world. This was a giant purple iguana wearing a horrid olive suit over a red shirt and speaking as though he believed himself the god of good sense. "Okay, I'll talk of flight lineup if you agree to owe Dimitri… a favor, which I will collect in a few months of time."

That took Sly by surprise, "A favor?"

"This no small-time favor like: 'Will you water my fish, or feed my plant?' No way, bro! This old school Mafia blood-pact favor, like in movies, big time!"

I was beginning to question Bentley's choice in believing Dimitri to be a good informant, this guy was at least halfway in the deep end and seemed to be enjoying his position.

Sly apparently thought the same, since he did his best to weasel out of promising. "Would a few coins maybe change your mind? I find it's a lot easier to talk when I'm 'rich'."

"Bribe money? Bling? Cash will not help me get done what needs getting done. I need gang of thieves, not federal reserve."

What on Earth couldn't be accomplished with money? I opened my mouth to voice that thought, but Sly cut me off.

"No dice. I'm not in the habit of racking up debts and I don't plan to start now."

"'No dice', 'no debts', no ACEs flight lineup! The choice is yours… take debt and flight roster, otherwise walk away with nothing."

Well crap, not only was it next to impossible to understand him, but he was one of those people who had a response no matter what was said. Wonderful.

I was slightly surprised to find Sly looking at me, one eyebrow raised. Was… was he asking my permission? Why would he do that? He was the leader, being part of the gang meant being able to follow his lead when he inevitably deviated from the plan Bentley laid out.

I shrugged, showing my relative neutrality. Dimitri seemed immovable on the subject. It was obvious he already had something in mind, but just didn't feel like telling us. I knew that whatever it was, we'd have to do it for the sake of the gang's reputation, but what choice did we really have?

"Alright, Dimitri. You hook me up with the flight roster and we'll owe you one."

The iguana looked positively ecstatic, "Done! The bargain, she is struck! To find flight roster, look behind one of the tacky paintings in Black Baron's hangar. It's hidden in secret safe."

"Art decryption lock, huh?" Sly eyes flicked up to our hotel room, "I know just the guy for the job."

"Stand cool! Here comes Big Cheese!"

I followed the attention of the room to the lobby entrance, where a broad-shouldered mole came into view. Large goggles covered his eyes and an even bigger mustache hid his face. He was sharply dressed and carried himself with a self-assured authority that the others in the room instinctively responded to.

"I bid you all a most flamboyant welcome my esteemed comrades of the skies!" He said loudly, spreading his arms. "Welcome, welcome to another year of the ACEs competition. We've got teams here from across the globe: Canada, Belgium, Ecuador, Iceland, Korea, and many, many more! Not the least of which is last year's deadly runner-up, Team Muggshot!"

"This year we're gonna drill you jokers fulla holes!" Shouted an oversized bulldog from the upstairs balcony.

It took Sly stiffening at my side to remember where I'd heard that name before. Muggshot was one of the Fiendish Five who Sly defeated three years back, one of the people who'd broken into his house when he was eight and killed his father.

There wasn't anything I could say, though I racked my brain for something, anything. Instead I took a half-step to my right, so our shoulders brushed. It wasn't much, but I wanted to let him know I was there for him.

I was not expecting for his gloved hand to steal into mine and give it a brief, gentle squeeze. I think that was his way of saying he knew what I was trying to do and thanking me for it, but I really couldn't say for sure.

The Baron was speaking again, "Now, we all know that in years past, some teams have engaged in a little good natured late night hi-jinx."

"Like when Team Canada stole Ecuador's parachutes." Shouted one of the competitors.

"Or when Team Iceland sawed the landing gear off Korea's planes!" That guy sounded more than a little high.

"Or when Portugal put rat poison in Team Muggshot's coffee machine!"

"This all sounds so very 'good natured'," I said satirically out of the corner of my mouth.

"I don't know, that last one was practically a public service." He sounded a little bitter, but otherwise fine, which made me all the more confused. That didn't line up with what Bentley had told me at all, but if he really was upset, why couldn't I tell? Did I really even know him at all?

His hand was warm and heavy in mine.

"Yes, yes, that was all so very funny, but no more!" The Baron seemed far from amused as he rose to his fullest height and clenched his fists at his sides, "You know the rules, no one, absolutely no one, is to leave the hotel after sunset. If my guards catch you outside, you will be beaten to within an inch of your life." I was pretty sure that wasn't legal, "No exceptions! This is will be a fair competition!"

The high guy spoke up again, "Same as last year and the year before, I've got the scars to prove it!"

The Black Baron ignored him, "I bid you all an exuberant and exaggerated farewell, pilots… Tonight, sleep like geese. And tomorrow, soar like eagles! Ha-ha! What-what!" He turned and sauntered outside to the sound of the obligatory laughter.

We stood there for a couple of seconds until Bentley's voice came over the binocucom and seemed to break the spell, "They don't lock the front door to the hotel, this isn't a jail. But you heard the Baron. Once outside, things will get dangerous."

Our hands separated so Sly could activate his mic, "Don't worry so much, pal. Besides, you know how much I love a little danger." I did not miss that his gaze flashed up to the balcony, but Muggshot had disappeared.

"Very funny, Sly. Be careful. The Baron has a ton of guards on duty and it's a long way up to his castle on the hill. Kaia, head back up to the Safehouse. This is going to be a long night and I'll be out for most of it, I need someone manning the binocucom station."

"You got it, Bentley. I'm on my way." I gave one last glance to Sly, who was making his way toward the front door, then headed upstairs.

A few hours later, I was staying awake with the help of a very friendly cup of coffee as Bentley rigged up the old slide machine. I asked him why he'd never switched to Power Point and he looked at me like I'd just take away his favorite toy, so I shut up and sat back, ignoring the way my hand still seemed to tingle with static electricity.

"Okay guys, according to the ACEs flight roster, we'll be flying against Team Iceland and Team Belgium in tomorrow's semi-final round. As you're all aware, we've only got a single plane, while our opponents will be flying fifteen apiece."

"Thirty to one odds," I stirred my coffee needlessly, "Swell."

"Exactly. In order to give ourselves a fighting chance, we'll need to pit these two teams against each other. First, Murray and Kaia will paddle through the sewers to gain access to a hotel vent that leads to Team Iceland's hotel room."

"They have a vent to the sewers in their hotel room?"

"Kaia?"

"Yes?"

"Quiet."

I threw a sugar cube at him.

"Steal one of their trademark Viking helmets and sneak over to Team Belgium's hangar. Vandalize one of their planes and plant the helmet to frame Team Iceland for the damage. Next, Murray and I will steal one of Team Belgium's monogrammed handkerchiefs. Meanwhile the Guru will break into Team Iceland's supply truck carrying their lucky ice sculpture. Sly will steal the art and place the handkerchief insinuating Team Belgium for the crime!" Bentley sounded deliriously excited about his plan, "Get it? We frame both teams so they'll be gunning for each other and not Sly and Kaia in the semifinals. All the while I'll be setting up some defenses around the Team Cooper hangar. You never know when one of the other teams will come looking to do us some harm."

"How come you never have to go through the smelly places?" I grumbled, eyeing the steaming manhole with distaste "And if you say that your nose is more sensitive than mine, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

Sly grinned, lounging on the balcony railing, "Alright, I won't say it. Here they come." He vaulted over the railing and jogged up to Bentley and Murray, who had just exited the hotel, and I followed.

Bentley handed off the handkerchief to Sly and turned to Murray and I as the raccoon ran off, "It looks like hard-partying Team Iceland has already gone to sleep. Time to 'borrow' one of their Viking helmets."

"Why do you need me?" Murray asked with genuine confusion, "Just have Kaia pick the lock to the door and steal the thing."

"You have much more faith in my lock-picking abilities than I do," I pointed out with amusement and chagrin.

"This is a delicate business," Bentley explained, "We're trying to frame Team Iceland for a crime they haven't committed. If there's any evidence of their door being forced, people might believe they're innocent."

"Man, you've gotten devious over the years!" Murray said.

"Slytherin…" I sing-songed.

"So, uh, how are we supposed to get inside?"

"We've scrounged a raft and inflated it down there," the three of us shared an apprehensive look at the manhole, "But be careful, other pilots have cause trouble down there in the past and the Baron's sure to have set up some security."

"I get to row a boat? Nautical!"

I sighed as Murray jumped into the sewers, turning to Bentley, "If I don't return, I blame you."

"Yes, and we'll have a touching moment of silence in your honor. Get going."

"This isn't a sewer." I said into my mic as I clambered out of the boat and onto the small dock, "This is some kind of medieval dungeon. And this stuff has got to be toxic waste."

"Yeah, yeah. Just make your way to the hotel ventilation system. Murray, you stay and guard the boat."

"You got it, little buddy!"

"Oh great," I said, looking at the task before me. "Swirling pinwheels of death." I jumped on one and almost fell off, "And they're slippery. Fantastic!"

I made my way across precariously balanced platforms until I found a ladder leading me into the ventilation shaft, which Bentley guided me through quietly.

"Alright, you're almost there. Be careful not to wake these guys up. They're a paranoid group and have probably set up some crude burglar alarms."

"You got it." I hissed, pulling myself out of the ventilation shaft and into the room. I almost ran right into a card house and carefully stepped around it, being wary of the passed out moose on the bed and the couch nearby.

I was midway through the room when I heard voices in the hall and froze.

"… keys to the room."

"Uh…" Here there was incomprehensible mumbling, "Don't you have 'em?"

I crept away from the door. If they managed to get in, it would be better for me to have a place to hide than to be standing out in the open.

"No! You're the responsible one. Let's just bang on the door." I almost dove for cover right then.

"No way, man! Everyone in there is asleep and I'm not gonna wake 'em up. Those guys are gonna shoot at us tomorrow if we do that." Heheh, actually…

"Fine! We'll just go down to the front desk for a spare, and you can forget about me being your wingman tomorrow…"

As their voices faded, I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to step lightly over the thin ropes strung across the hall, held up precariously by teetering cans that would make quite the racket were the air to blow the wrong way.

I finally found the helmet just sitting conveniently in the open. After checking to make sure it wasn't rigged to a foghorn or something, I tucked it into my backpack and made my way slowly back to the ventilation shaft, not daring to do much more than breathe until I was safely back in the sewers.

"Bentley, I got the helmet."

"Nice work! Head back to Murray and the raft."

Carefully making my way back through the gauntlet of unnecessary complexity, I found Murray on the opposite side of the dock from before.

"Sorry pal, the vent gates changed position, we need to escape through another tunnel, but fear not! 'The Murray' has an unnatural sense of direction."

I sighed and settled in to the raft for a long ride.

"… Jinx."

I was really comfy, which was weird, considering I seemed to be slumped in a chair and resting my head on my arms. Oh… my neck was going to hurt when I moved.

"Jinx… come on, it's time to wake up."

I cracked my eyes open and saw the binocucom station, flickering with Sly's amused face in the lower right hand corner. Then I realized what had happened and sat straight up, immediately wincing and grabbing my neck. Yeah, that hurt.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Not that long." Bentley showed up on the screen as well, "But it's time for the ACEs semifinals and we need you by the hangar."

"Oh yes, not that long," I grumbled, pulling on my boots, winding my scarf around my neck and glancing at the clock, "Just six hours! You should have woken me up, guys!" Embarrassed did not even begin to cover what I was feeling right then. Way to be part of the gang, falling asleep on the job.

"But it was so entertaining! Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

I groaned, heading outside and vaulting off the balcony, "Yes, I've been told that before, but considering that in that instance I asked for orange juice and my dream was about a flaming skeleton riding a motorcycle, I wouldn't put too much stock in whatever you heard. I'm on my way."

"You were speaking fluent Russian."

"... I don't know Russian."

"Apparently you do. And I'm insulted."

"I'm not going to ask what I said."

"Also flattered."

"Still not asking."

I got to the Cooper hangar in just a few minutes and handed Bentley a manila envelope.

"What's this?"

"My will. I trust you to execute it in the event of my untimely demise."

"Such lack of faith." Sly said from over by the ramp, where the plane was getting ready to be raised into position, "Get over here, we've got a competition to win!"

And that's a wrap! I don't have a lot of faith in my ability to write Dimitri, so let me know if I failed as hard as I think I did.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought and be sure to check out the blog!