You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me.

It was close to sunset when Carmelita arrived in a town about twenty minutes away from Mesa. A lot of people had fled from here too, fearing the gangster dogs would target the neighboring towns next, and so they were completely alone when she pulled into the parking lot of the place Interpol had paid for her to stay at.

"Here we are," she said, killing the engine as they both stared up at a dingy old motel washed out under neon lights.

Sly didn't move a muscle. His expression was unreadable. "Nice place."

There was nothing in his tone to suggest he was judging her temporary living space, but she felt self-conscious anyway. For some reason, she got the distinct feeling that either he'd never stayed in a motel before, or he was used to much nicer accommodations. Which made little sense, as she glanced over at the sorry state of his clothes and the scruffiness of his fur.

"Well, come on. No use sitting here any longer." The inspector left the car abruptly before he could catch her looking at him. "I've got some phone calls to make, and you should probably – get something to eat, or something."

She hadn't heard him moving behind her as she stepped up to her door, and nearly dropped her keys when his voice came up softly from right over her shoulder.

"Sounds good to me."

"Jesus!" The fox whirled on him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he said sincerely. "Force of habit."

"Habit to give people heart attacks?"

The raccoon shrugged. Carmelita counted to ten in her head as she unlocked the door and let them both inside. She wasn't a paragon of patience on a good day, and this civilian was finding a way to push at all her nerves simultaneously.

The motel room wasn't much better than the outside. Sly looked at the suitcase sitting open but unpacked on the bed, and once again the fox felt heat rising under her fur.

"I went straight into the field as soon as I got here," she rushed to explain for some reason she couldn't name. "Didn't really have time to settle in."

"I thought you said you've been in the area all day."

"...I was."

If she hadn't been painfully aware of his reaction, she might have missed the faint, almost-upturn of the corners of his mouth. It was gone before she could blink, and she was left questioning whether she had imagined it.

Then he glanced back at her suitcase, and suddenly averted his gaze with a clear, uncomfortable shift of his weight. Carmelita started to ask what was wrong, when she too glanced at her open suitcase, and was mortified to see a bra sitting almost innocently on top of everything else.

"Shit!" The fox practically dove for her luggage, slamming the suitcase shut with enough force to make the bed shake. "Shit. Um. Sorry. I'll put everything away immediately."

"All good," Sly replied very quietly as he stared at the nearest wall. His entire face was visibly flushed. "I'll, uh, I'll just wait outside until you're done."

Carmelita wanted to kick herself. "No, it's okay, really. Why don't you just…freshen up in the meantime? The bathroom should be fully stocked and I haven't touched anything in there yet."

She realized, belatedly, how rude she probably sounded by implying he needed a shower. There wasn't anything to suggest he even had spare clothes in that backpack. But the raccoon took the suggestion immediately before she could retract the statement, with nothing more than a quick nod and an even quicker disappearance into the other room.

With speed unparalleled by any other, Inspector Fox unpacked her stuff and put it in the motel drawers in what had to be a new world record. Her ears twitched at the sound of running water, and she sank down on her bed to stare at the closed door.

The events of the last hour hit her all at once, and anxiety spiked in her stomach. Barkley had asked for subtlety on this mission, and here she was with a rescued stranger in her apartment after practically screaming her status to multiple mobsters. She hadn't completely botched the job – she'd gotten a lot of intel before fate and her overwhelming sense of justice interfered – but the thought of calling her boss to relay the sudden change in plans had her clutching the mattress with dread.

Surely, he'd understand that she had no other choice, right? It was one thing to let criminals have their way with an abandoned city without lifting a finger to stop it, but this was someone's life on the line. If she hadn't stepped in when she did, the raccoon could've gotten seriously hurt – or worse. Carmelita knew she would never be able to live with herself if something had happened to him when she could have stopped it.

But she also knew that she'd put the entire mission at risk when she'd been told in no uncertain terms that she couldn't let that happen. If those goons went scurrying back to their leader and Muggshot put two and two together about the kind of law enforcement Inspector Fox represented, things would go very sour very quickly. Barkley was going to have a cow over her failure, and no one in the office would take her seriously ever again.

The woman was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she almost missed the quiet click of the bathroom door being unlocked just before it opened. Out stepped Sly with damp fur, albeit in the same clothes he'd worn before. His hood was down and he was tousling his hair with a hand towel.

Carmelita might have thought the tangled, springy mop on his head was a funny sight if she weren't so caught up in a tangle of worry herself.

"Hot water is the greatest invention ever," he announced. She caught the subtle glance he did around the room to make sure there were no more surprises to be had. Seemingly satisfied by the lack of police officer personal garments, the raccoon finally gave up on taming his hair and folded the towel neatly before setting it down.

His backpack was still on him, she noticed.

"Oh, definitely," she murmured distractedly, just to show she had heard him.

Sly looked at her. He didn't comment on whatever he saw. Instead, he said something that surprised her.

"Thank you for rescuing me."

Carmelita blinked and finally gave him her full attention. "You're welcome. I'm here to serve and protect, after all."

He wrinkled his nose in a way she didn't particularly like, but then he relaxed and considered her thoughtfully. "Work must be your passion, huh?"

"It's everything to me." This was something she said with her head high and her eyes full of pride, despite the terrible anticipation in her gut. "Speaking of which, I need to get on that phone call. I'll let you use it as soon as I'm done."

"Kay."

Sly sat down at the single-chair corner table, back to the wall and facing the door as he pulled his backpack around from behind to tuck under his chin as a head rest. His eyes never left her, and he was so quiet and so still that she might have forgotten he was actually there if not for the fact that she was staring straight at him.

Once again, the fox found herself wondering what his story was.

Carmelita shook her head to clear the distracting thoughts and pulled out her phone, stepping over to the other end of the room where she could have some relative privacy. Her finger hovered over Barkley's number without actually pressing it.

She must have been standing there for a good ten seconds like an idiot before Sly cleared his throat, making her jump.

"Everything okay?"

"Y-Yep. Absolutely."

Swallowing the lump in her chest, the inspector wasted no more time and finally dialed her boss.

He picked up after two rings, voice as gruff as always. "This call better be a status report, Inspector."

"It - it is, sir," she said in a low voice, glancing back at the raccoon who didn't seem particularly interested in eavesdropping. "I have a lot to report."

"Get on with it, then."

"As expected, the entire city has been deserted by its citizens and overtaken by criminals. Muggshot has already started setting up shop - I saw a building near the center of Mesa with his name up in big neon letters. I can't be sure yet, but I think he's building a casino."

"Gambling is prohibited in Utah," the badger pointed out. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was doing that. It would be easy revenue for a criminal until he's busted."

"That's what I was thinking, too."

As her mind slipped into the familiar flow of investigation, Carmelita allowed herself to relax just a little bit. She looked out the window at the distant horizon. Mesa City wasn't visible but she knew it was out there.

"A lot of stores have been looted or at least broken into, but most residential houses and apartment buildings were untouched. He's probably planning to entice the civilians to return to their homes and make them into paying customers, either voluntarily or by force."

Sly's eyes prickled the fur on the back of her neck. She half-turned to look his way, but all he did was give her a tilt of his head. He still hadn't moved from his spot.

"– know where this potential casino is located?" Barkley continued, unaware that she'd tuned out for a few seconds.

"Oh – not – not exactly," the fox scrambled to respond before her boss could notice. "I haven't gotten close enough to find the street itself. There were a lot more of his hired men the deeper I went into the city."

"How many would you estimate?"

"Anywhere from thirty to eighty. Maybe even more. I counted about twenty or so today but I could hear alarms going off just about everywhere from break-ins and robberies the entire time. Actually…I have more pressing news related to that."

"Oh yeah?" Barkley's tone shifted from neutral to wary in an instant. "What would that be, inspector?"

She took a deep breath and braced herself.

"Well…about an hour ago, I encountered three criminals looting a jewelry store, and they had a civilian hostage with them. I was able to rescue the hostage."

There was a pregnant pause between them, and Carmelita could practically hear the badger putting the pieces together.

"Fox," he finally growled, "please tell me you didn't blow your cover and jeopardize your mission for that. Please tell me you were still able to remain unnoticed."

The inspector closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't stand by and watch an innocent person get hurt without doing anything."

Across the room, Sly's eyebrows shot up. She didn't see it.

Inspector Barkley was silent for a scarily long amount of time. The only way she knew he hadn't hung up on her was by the short, angry puffs she could still hear through the phone. When he spoke again, every word was clipped and cross.

"...Inspector, you had specific orders not to reveal yourself. This was a covert operation until we had enough information to move forward with the lowest possible risk."

"I know, sir."

"You've only been there for one day and you've already done exactly what I asked you not to do." The badger's voice steadily grew louder and louder, as did his anger. "Not only have you jeopardized your position and the lives of every Interpol officer who's supposed to help take back the city, but also the nearly five-hundred thousand residents of Mesa!"

"I - I know, sir."

"Don't "I know, sir" me! I trusted you to do your job right when I assigned you to this case – I put my neck out on the line when almost all of my colleagues believed you weren't suited for such a delicate undercover mission! Do you have any idea how many ways this whole situation could go sour just because you got caught up in the moment playing hero?! A hell of a lot of ways, Fox!"

Carmelita clutched the cellphone close to her ear, flinching at every reprimand – and not just because her superior was screaming louder than a howler monkey. She inhaled and exhaled in practiced measures.

"Sir, I swear, I can fix it –" she started to plead.

"You're damn right you're going to fix it!" He yelled. "I'm sending a team out this instant, and if you don't have a direct line straight to Muggshot himself when they arrive, consider yourself officially demoted!"

Barkley hung up before she could even think to say anything to that, and she was left staring at her phone as it beeped mockingly at her. Her vision started swimming as panic set in at the threat of losing the title she had worked so hard to reach. If she was demoted, that fleeting respect she had fought for would be gone forever. If she was demoted, those high-profile cases she finally had access to would only reach her desk when they needed extra bodies for backup.

If she was demoted, then everything she had ever done up until this point was –

"Well, he sure has a set of lungs, huh?"

The voice came a meter from her right side but it felt like it had been a millimeter. Carmelita whirled on emotional, startled instinct, swinging her fist wide in a sucker punch. Her target – the raccoon, the civilian – barely danced out of its range by the end of his fur, eyes wide and hands up in a gesture of surrender as it only just missed colliding with his face.

She realized what she'd done the very next moment in a mix of shame and anger. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"It's fine," Sly said in a careful, neutral tone. He still had his hands up and was watching her like she might take another swipe at him. "I scared you again."

"Of course you scared me again! Hostia, I could have broken your nose! Why on earth did you sneak up on me like that when I was making a confidential call?!"

"In my defense, I didn't actually come up to you until it was over."

"Doesn't make it any better," she retorted bitterly, turning away from him to hide the embarrassed blush under her fur. The disastrous call with Barkley came back full force and she sagged, completely overwhelmed. "God, this might be one of the worst days of my entire life."

"Why, just cause your boss yelled at you for one mistake?" He gave her a look that was definitely judgmental. "I'd say your life's been pretty great if that's the worst thing that's happened to you."

The fox shook her head. "You don't understand. I wasn't supposed to risk my cover for anything. It was a recon mission to learn as much about Muggshot and his hired hands as possible; just flashing my badge could put our entire plan to take back Mesa in jeopardy. I'll probably get demoted at best and fired at worst for what I did today."

"Huh. So…why did you do it?"

"Because I saw you in trouble," she said honestly, turning back to him. "I couldn't sit back and watch someone innocent get hurt."

"Think you said that already when you were talking to your boss," he replied. "Still doesn't explain why you'd risk your 'mission' for it."

"The whole point of my mission, my job, is to protect those that aren't able to protect themselves from criminals like Muggshot. Even if I failed in the bigger picture, turning a blind eye to injustice isn't something I can just ignore. You don't deserve that."

Sly cocked his head, studying her in that specific way that made her feel like he was peering into her very soul. She couldn't read the emotion behind his eyes.

"...You're the weirdest cop I've ever met," he finally said.

Carmelita resisted the urge to ask him what he meant by that, and instead decided to take the compliment for what sincerity he seemed to offer it with.

"Thanks? I'm just doing my job." She grimaced. "My job which is now on the line."

"Oh, yeah, that guy was yelling so loud I heard that whole last bit at the end there. Something about clearing a path straight to Muggshot, right?"

"Basically." The inspector rubbed her face, feeling exhausted just at the thought of doing something like that. "But considering the heart of the city is crawling with criminals and I don't even know where their leader is, I might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack. A haystack where every piece of hay has a weapon."

The raccoon snorted. "Not far off with that analogy."

Then he went silent for a moment, and she had the sudden sense not to say anything else just yet. There was that same calculation there that she'd seen in him right before he'd risked his life to run for her. Now that she was getting a really good look at it, it was almost chilling. It looked like the kind of calculation she might see in a criminal.

Ridiculous. She needed to get out of this damn city before it made her suspicious of everything.

"I think I can help you."

His quiet, certain words snapped her out of her thoughts. "What?"

"I could help you reach Muggshot," Sly repeated, looking her dead in the eye. "If you want."

Carmelita stared at him. The offer was so out of left field that she was struggling to even comprehend it. Instead of a reasonable response like "I'm not going to let a civilian get involved in an Interpol case", what came out of her mouth was –

"I thought you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Changed my mind," he said without missing a beat.

"Why?" She pressed.

"Think of it as returning the favor for rescuing me." The raccoon lifted his backpack up from where it had been sitting on the ground at his feet and tugged it over his back. Carmelita hadn't even noticed it there. "Besides, it's not every day you meet a co - an officer with actual integrity these days. It would suck to see you kicked out of such a respectable, honorable organization like Interpol."

Something about how he said that last part had her squinting at him, but all he did was smile at her in a way she couldn't quite pick apart. The fox sighed and gave a resigned nod.

"Alright, fine. It's not like I'm risking anything else at this point."

"That's the spirit."

The dogs searched the streets, the alleys, and every abandoned building they could break into for nearly an hour with no luck. It was like the raccoon and the cop who'd stolen him had disappeared into thin air. By the time they regrouped by the racetracks, Spark was a nervous wreck, Inkspot was struggling to light a cigar with trembling hands, and even Tony could feel his unshakeable confidence starting to crumble.

"What do we do? What do we do?!" Spark whined, pacing in a panicked circle and pulling at his ears. "That kid is important! When the boss finds out he's gonna skin us alive!"

"Stop talking. Let me think." The mastiff pinched the bridge of his snout.

"What's there to think about?! We're screwed! Muggshot is going to fit us with cement shoes if he doesn't just shoot us first!"

Tony began to growl in warning. It went unnoticed by his wound-up companion.

"I never should've let you two talk me into this! Oh god, I'm not ready to die yet! I had so many plans for my life, I never even got the chance to –"

"Shut your sniveling trap!" The mastiff roared, whirling around to jab a finger at his chest. The force of it nearly sent the smaller dog falling backwards. "If you're just gonna whine about it like a newborn pup then yer in the wrong damn job, pal."

The terrier closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth. The only sound between them was the distant siren of the cop car someone had hotwired for testing the track down below.

Finally, Inkspot broke the silence with a shaky exhale of smoke. "What if we just don't tell him?"

They shot him mirroring looks of disbelief.

"I'm serious. There aren't any cameras in the hotel, and no one saw us leave with the kid. We can tell Muggshot that we ran into a cop, and just…not say anything else."

"That –" Tony stopped himself from saying it sounded like a stupid idea. Honestly, it was awfully tempting. "That's…we could work with that. And if the boss is all focused on a cop sniffing around, he's not gonna notice his living lockpick going missing too, right?"

"Exactly." Inkspot took another puff of his smoke, much steadier than the last one. "So how's about this – you two go make sure the kid's door looks just like it was when we got there, and I'll break the news to Muggshot."

"Hang on, hang on!" The terrier squinted at him suspiciously. "How do we know you aren't just gonna rat us out, huh? Would be pretty easy to do when you got the boss alone."

"Because if we get the kid back, he might snitch on all of us," Inkspot snapped. "Who do you think Muggshot'll believe more - the three of us against a ringtail, or just me when he's already got proof of two dogs who stole from him?"

Spark huffed and Tony let out a low rumble, but neither could think of a good argument to that. Even so, the mastiff stepped forward to get in Inkspot's face.

"Fine. We'll go ahead with your plan, but if you sell us out, you'll be sorry you ever double-crossed Tony "The Killer" B. Got that?"

"Loud and clear, pal," the dalmatian replied coolly without so much as a twitch. Tony growled and backed away from him. Stupid poker player and his stupid poker face.

"Come on, wimp," the mastiff pushed Spark ahead of him, but not without sparing another glare at Inkspot. "We got a job ta do."

For such a large city, it wasn't hard to find Muggshot if you knew where to look. If he wasn't in his penthouse suite, then he was either watching homemade race cars burning rubber at the track or overseeing the conversion of the neighboring building into his shiny new casino.

Case in point – when Inkspot entered said casino, he could see his leader clear as day. The bulldog was standing in the middle of a carpeted bridge, arms folded as he watched a nervous construction team carefully screw a giant wooden cutout of himself over a doorway.

"Hey, boss." The dalmatian sauntered up to him with his hands in his pockets, trying to play off the bead of sweat along his brow. "Sorry to bother ya while you're busy, but there's something I gotta tell ya."

The massive dog didn't even glance his way.

"If it ain't about how to get paying customers coming in or that someone finally fixed the plumbin' and electric in here, then beat it. I got more important things to do right now."

Inkspot steeled himself. "What if it's about a cop?"

"Cop?" Muggshot craned his head back to stare him down with narrowed eyes. "Whaddya mean, cop?"

"Me and a few of the guys ran into one on Main. Came out of nowhere screamin' for us to put our hands up. Had a badge and a gun and everything."

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees in an instant. The construction crew all froze mid hammer swing. Muggshot turned fully around, and the dalmatian was reminded of how the top dog had become top dog as he was suddenly face to face with a wall of muscle.

"When was that?" The bulldog asked, all growl.

Inkspot had to fight to keep the unbothered expression on his face. "About an hour or two ago. We chased her through half the town but she got the slip on us, so I figured I should let ya know."

"Yer damn right you should've!" One giant hand shot out and grabbed the dalmatian by the shoulder, dragging him along as Muggshot stalked off in the direction of the exit. "You mooks keep building. It better be done when I come back!"

He practically half-carried Inkspot out of the casino, across the parking lot, and into the hotel that had become his personal base of operations. They passed Tony and Spark on the first-floor stairway, who shuffled nervously but went completely ignored by their boss. Inkspot struggled just to keep his feet under him as Muggshot crammed them both into his secret elevator.

They reached the top floor and the dalmatian nearly had a heart attack as his leader made a beeline for the raccoon's room – which, thankfully, had the giant plank placed back across its front. Instead of opening it, however, the bulldog pounded on the door several times.

"Hey, runt!" He shouted through the heavy wood. "Guess what! You're getting an extended time out till I deal with some personal biz."

Without even waiting for a response, which Inkspot was incredibly grateful for, Muggshot continued on towards his own room. He shoved his crony inside and slammed the door behind him.

"Now, you better tell me every detail about this cop of yours," he said, standing over Inkspot like the impenetrable barrier that he was. "Because lemme tell ya, pally - I'm all ears."

A/N: I actually looked up the population of Mesa City and it is currently at just over 500K people. Back in 2001 it was 400K. Really puts into perspective how significant Muggshot's actions are.

Not really much else to say here - cool-down chapter is necessary but slow. We'll pick up on the action next week though, don't you worry ;)