Sorry I'm late! I'm really busy this week and posting this just kept slipping my mind!

I hope you enjoy!

We reached the outskirts of Mesa City as the sun set, which was good because I didn't have the highest heat tolerance in the world and it was the middle of June. There was something to be said for dry heat over humid heat, and that was that it was highly preferable, but it was still way, way too hot.

"Same drill as last time," Bentley said, once Murray had parked the van out of sight. I'd asked Bentley how on Earth he'd gotten the van to the states, but he wouldn't answer, so I just assumed it had involved a lot of bribery, "Sly goes in, we monitor from here and provide resources and intel as needed."

Cooper looked way too happy for someone about to head into mob territory. His energy level had risen as the sun set and he'd been doing stretches in the back of the van for the last half hour to warm his muscles up. It would probably have been distracting if I weren't so miserable. Note to self, even if you have motion sickness meds you should never ever try reading in a moving vehicle.

Point being, when the raccoon finally slipped out the back doors of the van, I went with him. The fastest way to get rid of motion sickness is to stand on solid ground, after all.

Unfortunately, the parking space Murray had chosen was far, far too close to the edge of a cliff for my liking.

I thought Cooper was going to sprain something laughing when I turned green and dropped to the ground at the sight of the drop. I would have chewed him out, but I was too busy trying to control my breathing.

He crouched in front of me, "Are you seriously afraid of heights?"

"I'm gonna push you off the side here in a second." It's difficult to get a decent threat out when you can barely breathe.

"You know, the sunset is lovely out over the canyon."

I kicked dirt at him and he laughed and headed for the massive gate that proclaimed Mesa City's presence to the entire desert. I sat on the red rock for a while and looked out at the sky which, to be fair, was really pretty. Besides, the rock was warm and eased muscles that had tensed up from my afternoon trying not to lose my lunch in the back of the van.

I headed back inside the van eventually because I could hear Bentley talking and I was curious. I hadn't mentioned it to the gang, but I had read up on Muggshot before. I'd read up on most of the Fiendish Five, even though there was next to no information on whoever that 'Clockwerk' guy was. And really, I found myself firmly on the side of the gang in this instance. Muggshot deserved whatever Sly did to him, frankly.

This was a position I'd never be able to mention to my father.

"So what's up?" I asked, pulling my legs inside and slamming the van doors behind me.

Bentley frowned at the screen in front of him, "It's weird, and not in a good way. Mesa City is supposed to be loud, busy, crowded. This place is more like a ghost town."

"Really?" I settled myself next to him and folded my legs, "Is there any reason why?"

He shrugged, drumming his fingers rapidly along the side of his laptop as he thought, "At first I thought that maybe there'd been some sort of disaster, but it doesn't look like it. From what I can figure, Muggshot either bought up or bullied the deeds for all the property in the city. He's turned the place into his own personal mob movie."

"Guy sounds like he needs therapy," I muttered distractedly as I watched Cooper finally arrive at the city proper.

Bentley seemed to be thinking along the same lines, thumbing the switch on his microphone as soon as the camera showed a clear view of the city square, "This Muggshot certainly isn't shy." He said, upon seeing the giant neon sign proclaiming the criminal's name, "We know he's here somewhere, but how are we supposed to find him? Mesa City is a big place."

"Given that he's a bulldog..." Sly zoomed in on the large building he stood in front of, "Seems only reasonable to assume that he'd want to live in a giant fire hydrant."

"That's racist." I said, accidentally interrupting whatever sarcastic thing Bentley was going to say.

"You're racist!" The raccoon chirped in return. Bentley sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

"Children, please."

"Sorry, Bentley." Sly and I said in unison, then stared at each other in horror as Bentley tried and failed to hide his evil-brainwashing-villain smirk.

"Right. So. How are you planning to break into the base of that building?"

The thief hummed thoughtfully, using his binocucom to have a look around the square. The shot zoomed in on a car, chained thoroughly up. The smirk in his voice was obviously when he said, "Oh, I'll think of something."

As the connection broke, Bentley and I exchanged long-suffering looks.

"I'll look up directions to the nearest hospital," the turtle muttered, letting his fingers dance lightly over his keyboard.

I huffed, not even bothering to lift my chin from where it rested on my folded arms.

Sly was ransacking a casino in town, Bentley was decoding the clues from said casino, and Murray was outside stretching or something because he was apparently going to help out on the next job.

Put plainly, I'd had nothing to do for far too long.

I prodded at Bentley's elbow half-heartedly, "Bentley, I'm bored."

He gave me a very clear 'well what do you expect me to do about that?' look. I just stared at him, trying my very hardest to look pathetic and miserable and not to blink.

The turtle rolled his eyes and shuffled around some of the papers he had out, handing me a map and some photos I assumed he'd hijacked a satellite to acquire. "You want something to do? Help me with this. Here," he jabbed one part of the map, "is the gate into the area where they're keeping the key Sly and Murray will be going for. Here," he pointed at the other side of the map, "is where the key actually is. What I need you to do is make a path from point A to point B that is least likely to get Murray killed. Sly will be covering him with a turret from here."

I raised my eyebrow at the word 'turret', but didn't comment, taking the papers instead. I'd pretty much stopped being surprised by Bentley's resources at this point.

Commandeering the lid of a Tupperware container full of cords to serve as my desk, I absentmindedly stuck the end of the pencil Bentley had given me in my mouth and started pouring over the various papers in front of me.

I wasn't really too stressed about making sure I did a super good job because I was about ninety-eight percent sure Bentley had just thrown this stuff at me to keep me from annoying him, but I would take what entertainment I could get at this point.

It was kind of like a puzzle. A weird puzzle with real world, explode-y consequences.

It kept me busy for half an hour, though, so there's that to be said for it.

When I was done, I tapped Bentley on the shoulder and handed him the papers. It felt oddly similar to handing my dad my report card.

He glanced at it quickly, confirming my suspicion that he'd just given me the job to keep me from bothering him, but then paused and did a double take, looking it over more slowly.

Then, he pushed his headset down to hang around his neck and turned back to me, "Explain your logic."

Sly breathed a sigh of relief as Murray reached him safely. Sure, he knew they were pretty much home free as soon as Murray reached the key, but that hadn't stopped him from following the hippo with the sights of the turret until he was safely out of the train yard.

"Nice run, pal," he said with a grin, clapping his friend on the shoulder and taking the key, "Couldn't have done it without you."

Murray smiled shyly back, rubbing the back of his neck, "Aw, it was all Bentley, he's the one that told me the path to take."

"Well then thanks to you too Bentley," Sly said into his binocucom, spinning the key around his cane. He was in a good mood, things were going really well.

"If you're gonna thank me, be sure to thank Kaia too. She was bored, so I put her to work, she's the one that came up with the route. She's craftier than we gave her credit for."

Both Sly's train of thought and his good mood came to a screeching halt at this declaration, but Bentley continued right on, oblivious to the raccoon's meltdown.

"Anyway, I'm going to set up a satellite dish on this rock outcropping, it'll hopefully help me get a good look at the higher levels of Muggshot's hideout. Murray, if you want to head on back, Kaia's been bugging me for food for awhile now and I'm pretty sure there's a hotdog place not too far from here."

"Awesome! I'm on my way! See ya later, Sly!"

And the thief just stood there as the connection ended and Murray ran off because it felt like his brain had broken a little.

It was one thing to not be outright malicious to Jinx, it wasn't her fault anymore that she was stuck with them, but it was another entirely to bring her in on planning a job!

Anger and incredulity were warring in Sly's head. How could Bentley do that without talking to him first? Besides, just because she wasn't actively calling the cops on them didn't mean she was trustworthy. How could she be trusted with their lives just like that?

He still wasn't sure she wasn't planning anything and before he knew what he was doing, he was taking off after Murray.

I wasn't much of a fan of hot dogs myself, but a mediocre understanding of American culture dictated that just because a place was a hot dog stand didn't mean it only sold hot dogs, so I tagged along with Murray in the hopes of some cheesy fries, or at least a soda and some chips.

Yeah, probably should have thought through the fact that the entire city was populated solely by the mob.

It didn't help that Murray was about 6'4" and looked like he could be a fighter. He wasn't, he was more like an overgrown five-year-old, but he looked like he could be.

I was pretty sure that the guys who approached Murray and I as we sat at a picnic table waiting for our food were intending some kind of fight, but somehow the conversation became about cars. I wasn't really following it, I was peering around the group and trying to figure out if that really was a Mariachi band over there.

It was, by the way.

The guys came over with that generic pleasantry that anyone who's ever been bullied would recognize as 'DANGER DANGER BACK AWAY', but Murray was just so goshdarn enthusiastic about his van when it came up that, rather than challenging him to a fight, they challenged him to a race.

Which was, y'know, good for the fact that I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to avoid the fight and, standing at 5'5" and surrounded by thugs, I was fairly certain I wouldn't be much help either.

But a race? Really? I didn't know how fast the van was, but I wouldn't put money on it in a race.

At least, that was what I thought before the entire Mariachi band piled into one convertible, an old vintage, purple car pulled up next to them, and even a freaking ambulance with flashing lights. Then I pretty much just wondered if someone had slipped a hallucinogen into my Slurpee.

"Murray!" I jumped when the binocucom station lit up, I didn't even know it got power if it was separated from Bentley. "What's going on down there?"

"Sly!" Murray tried to twist around to look at the station, but since he was still driving, I quickly just picked up the mic and held it up so he could talk into it. "We just stopped by this hot dog stand for a snack and the next thing we know, we're being challenged to a race by these gangster dogs!"

Sly was obviously watching us from somewhere high up, but I had no idea where. His eyes were flicking all over place, like he was thinking really hard about something before he asked, sort of strangled, "Is there a key in it for the winner?"

"Yeah," Murray seemed to follow his friend's logic, "Three times around the track.

Cooper nodded sharply, "It's all you man. If you can get any of those nitro cans around the track, they'll give the van a boost."

"And how are we supposed to get the nitro mid-race?" I interrupted, "I sincerely doubt that unless it makes the van fly, it'll be worth stopping for."

"Some vehicles are equipped specially to pick them up, but Bentley's only gotten around to putting a loading port for them in the van. So I guess you're just gonna have to hang out the back of the van and pick 'em up as you go."

I honestly could not tell if he was kidding or not. I narrowed my eyes at him, "You just want me to fall out and get run over."

"Yes, that's totally it."

There was not nearly enough sarcasm in that sentence for me to be comfortable. The raccoon grinned with all his teeth.

"Pretty sure there's a harness somewhere in the back if you're that worried about it."

The connection ended and I had less than a minute to decide what I wanted to do

On the one hand, the sane part of my brain that dealt with self-preservation and breathing and stuff wanted me to sit shotgun and freak out with Murray. On the other, the emotional part of my brain was seething and I had no idea why. That part wanted me to give Cooper the metaphorical finger, strap myself into the van, and hang out the back doors.

Unfortunately, impulsivity had sort of been the theme for the last week.

I grimaced at the mic in my hand before replacing it and tearing up the floorboards to get to the compartments underneath.

Sure enough, I located a harness and a length of rope.

"Here," I handed one end of the rope to Murray, "Hold this."

"I need two hands to drive!"

Of course he did.

"Then tie it to the steering wheel or something," I frowned down at the tangle of heavy fabric in my hands, "Now, how does this thing work?"

Sly watched from his vantage point, perched on the edge of a fence, one hand curled around the wood at his feet.

This whole situation was making him uneasy even before Jinx unwittingly took herself on an actual job. Hopefully she'd just stay out of the way while Murray drove and they could keep her far, far away from any jobs in the future.

Which, of course, meant that one of the back doors of the van swung open as soon as the massive vehicle pulled up to the starting line.

He was able to make out a smudge of grey, but when he pulled out his binocucom for a closer look and recognized Jinx, crouched in the opening with one hand on the door and the other stretched out over the dirt road, he gaped.

He hadn't been serious!

Apparently, that didn't matter, because the whistle blew and the cars took off.

I may have gotten terrible motion sickness and I may have been afraid of heights, but for some reason I got a thrill when the Murray floored it.

Maybe it was because I could feel the air whipping past us and hear the van tearing over the dirt road, but it was probably the adrenaline. I'd never thought of myself as an adrenaline junkie, but I might have to start.

"On the right!" Murray called.

I scooted to my left and flattened myself to the floorboards, reaching one arm out the door and towards the track. The wheel of the van was throwing up dirt and small rocks, but they didn't hurt enough when they hit my arm that I couldn't ignore them, so I did.

At the first flash of red, I threw my arm out.

My fingers skimmed the top of the can, but I couldn't catch a grip on it. I swore to myself as we drove away from it and called back to Murray, "Barely missed it!"

"Another one coming down the middle!" was my answer.

This one fell neatly into my palm and stayed there.

"Got it!" I said, lunging over to deposit it into Murray's waiting hand.

"Great!" he hollered as we finished off the first lap, "Two more to go!"

I got back in position.

The racetrack was made up of turns, some long curves and some sharp 180s. Sly couldn't see a single completely straight tract of dirt and even if he could, the track was so uneven that it wouldn't have mattered.

The amount of airtime some of the racers were getting would have been really entertaining if Jinx wasn't hanging out the back of the van. It was like she gloried in tempting fate.

Which, come to think of it, was probably true.

Her nickname was getting more and more apt.

He'd just barely finished that thought when the van careened over a large bump and lifted at least a foot off the ground.

Jinx had been hanging out the back to grab an upcoming can and went flying.

The split second of weightlessness was actually fun before I realized what was happening.

I flung my arms out purely on instinct to find something to grip as my body plummeted toward the track. The harness around my chest and shoulders snapped taut, keeping me from falling any farther out of the van and my feet and legs caught on the floorboards inside it.

My left hand found purchase on the inside of the open door and my right fingertips caught at the other, leaving my body suspended between three not especially strong points.

My muscles were screaming at me, but to listen to them would mean to fall out of the van and get road hauled seeing as how I was still attached to the harness. Instead, I gritted my teeth, flexed muscles that were far too weak for this sort of thing, and pulled.

I tumbled backward and thought I was home free until Murray took a sharp turn and the van's back door slammed shut- or would have if my arm hadn't been in the way.

I'd broken my arm once, when I was little and took gymnastics. My mom had enrolled me in the course because, as such a weirdly proportioned hybrid, she hoped the flexibility training would help me learn how my specific body was supposed to move. She was right, it had helped tremendously, but when I first started the classes my balance was so bad that by the third week I took a header off the balance beam and landed on my left arm wrong.

The pain then and the pain now were surprisingly similar, in spite of the near decade between incidents, with two major differences: first, it was my right arm and not my left, and second, I hadn't heard bone snapping.

I'd just yanked my arm back and cradled it to my chest when Murray practically slammed on the brakes, nearly starting the whole process over again.

"We won!"

Sly made it back to their camp first solely by virtue of being very determined.

Leaning against the rock outcropping where Bentley was configuring his 'parabolic dish', the raccoon felt his fingers drum a nervous rhythm against the fur of his arm.

He wasn't even sure why he was so out of sorts, he just knew he was a tight, uncomfortable coil of energy and could barely fake the appropriate enthusiasm when Murray pulled up and immediately stumbled out of his van to show off the key he won. The second the hippo ran off to show Bentley, Sly was crossing around to the back of the van.

Jinx's feet barely touched the dusty ground before he had handfuls of her shirt and was crowding her back against the now-closed van doors.

She let out an odd-sounding yelp that he ignored in favor of invading her personal space and glaring right into her eyes. She must have ditched the contacts at some point because they were a bright, vibrant green so light it was practically gold.

"What are you doing?" he growled, feeling his fists press into her collarbone as he pushed probably harder than was strictly necessary.

Her eyes were wide and surprised for all of two seconds before they narrowed into annoyed, angry slits, "What am I doing? You're the one who decided to assault me after I helped your little gang! Twice!"

"Exactly!" The thief resisted the urge to give her a good shake, "Why? Why are you helping?"

"Oh for the love of- Is that what's got your panties in a twist?" The hybrid beat her head backwards against the van twice, "I felt like it, okay?!"

"No, it's not okay! No one helps for no reason!" Sly felt his fingers tighten around the fabric he had such a hard grip on it was nearly painful. Some part of his brain dimly realized that this was a shirt he'd bought for the hybrid himself. It was pale green and boasted a picture of the Eiffel tower, he'd bought it just to see if she would wear it, it was more feminine than anything he'd seen her express interest in before. But she was wearing it now; there were still crease marks in it from the harness she'd used in the race not even an hour ago.

Jinx rolled her eyes so hard he was curious if she could actually sprain an eye-rolling muscle, "Okay, the first time I was bored, the second time I just wanted to, okay? That's all there is to it, I definitely didn't think as hard about this as you are. Now could you please let go?"

It was the 'please' that caught his attention more than anything.

Sly blinked, feeling the anger and confusion and suspicion roll off him like water. There was something off about Jinx's expression.

He took a step back, but didn't let go, and looked her over. She was leaning against the van more than standing under her own power and her face had that loose quality, like she was far too distracted to worry about what expression she currently had.

He'd seen it before and recognized it as something he'd always thought of as 'too much pain, must cut some corners'.

His eyes zeroed in on her left arm, which was being clutched by her right in a death grip.

Without his consent, his fingers uncurled until they released the fabric of the hybrid's shirt and came up to instead clutch her shoulders firmly, but gently, "What's wrong with your arm?"

Jinx's eyes darted sideways and she licked her lips, "It got slammed in the door toward the end of the race."

Really, Sly couldn't do anything but open the back door of the van and have her sit on the edge while he went to go get Bentley, who was the only one on the gang with any first aid training.

As he walked away, he shuddered and ran a hand through his hair as a deep sense of shame and guilt settled in his chest. He hadn't exploded like that since he was fifteen. Hell, Jinx was only fifteen. And he'd gone off on her like she was one of his targets.

Biting his lip, he looked over his shoulder at her. She wasn't looking at him at all, she was staring down at her injured arm, running her fingertips over where it probably hurt the worst, squeezing her hand into a small fist over and over, mouth twisted into a pensive frown, like she was trying to figure out whether or not it was broken all on her own.

Clenching his jaw, he started to climb the outcropping. The sooner he reached Bentley, the sooner the turtle could help Jinx.

Then he could focus on finding some sort of way to apologize.

Sorry again about being late this week! Feel free to check out the blog and I'll see you in a couple of weeks!