Since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality.
It was a long, shameful walk back to the ruined village.
Carmelita trudged through snow and wreckage, only aware enough of her surroundings to avoid the lights of guards and the occasional patch of ice. She was covered in dust, powder, and rubble that together created a grimy film to her clothing and her hair and her pistol. Everything she touched was left dirtied, marked by her presence as well as her failure.
She barely noticed any of it; her mind was still dead-set focused on the encounter she had just had with Cooper. Frustration over him slipping away warred against the discrepancies she had seen that made her analyze every second of their interaction. The way he had acted towards her at first, so unaffected by their falling out, had been an obvious diversion that had nevertheless gotten her blood boiling and falling right into it. His legitimate anger over her assumption that he'd had anything to do with the avalanche was not nearly as surprising, but what had convinced her he wasn't involved – begrudging as she was to admit it – was the legitimate hurt in his eyes that she knew from experience he could not truly fake. And his last words to her…
A distant flash of light caught her attention. She squinted into the dark and realized it was a Morse Code signal from one of her officers, telling her where it was safe to return to. Well, telling her and her team, but guilt sunk in deep as it struck her that she had no idea where they were or if they were safe. She hadn't seen any sign of them since she'd abandoned them on top of that temple to rush after Cooper.
Already-swirling emotions suddenly had a heaping dose of dread in the mix as the fox headed for the blinking light. When she was close enough to start making out buried buildings, she took her own flashlight out and began turning it on and off in a return signal, waiting until the other light changed to affirmation before continuing any further.
The last thing she needed in this shitty night was for one of her own to accidentally shoot her because they thought she was an enemy. That would really just be the cherry on top.
"Inspector Fox!" Three officers approached her with speed, all looking relieved to see her. The one who had called out paused a moment to take in her haggard, dusty appearance. "Are you injured?"
"I'm fine," she managed to say without any bitterness. The same could not be said for exhaustion. "I just got caught up in the outskirts of a collapsing statue. It – I got separated from the team I went in with. Have any of them come back this way?"
They all shook their heads, but the leading officer clarified before her heart could drop into her stomach. "We've been maintaining radio updates from them since your separation. Everyone is accounted for, and they're still working through the Panda King's territory. It's been slow-going success, though, and we were debating whether to send more people in."
Carmelita could hear the fishing in the tone; now that she was back, they were hoping she would make the decision for them. She stalled for time by brushing stone powder off her coat sleeves and peered past them towards the truck where town refuges were still being tended to.
"What's the status here?"
"All injuries have been stabilized, but there's only so much we can do with limited resources. Some of the civilians have started asking if we'll take them down the mountain to a hospital, or at least into the nearest city that isn't under King's direct hold."
She started doing the math in her head. There was enough room for about twenty people in the truck if they were packed shoulder to shoulder, which meant several trips. "How long would it take to ferry everyone down?"
"The driver estimated at least three or four hours with the return trips, but that will depend on road conditions."
Everyone reflexively glanced up at the sky. It was already starting to snow again. Inspector Fox rubbed her gloved hands together to stave off the chill in her stiff fingers.
"Let me go see for myself how they're all doing," she announced after a moment. "Our priority is to get these people to safety. Has anyone called the nearest police department, Interpol or local or otherwise?"
"No, ma'am."
"Someone get on that right away, then." It was easier to walk with less shame when she was giving simple orders. The fox could almost ignore it entirely. "Ask for more manpower to come up the mountain with first responders, but don't mention anything about the Panda King. Just a natural disaster with survivors that need tending to."
"Yes, ma'am!" Two of her subordinates branched off to do as instructed without any hesitation. It made her terrible spirits lift just the tiniest amount. The one who remained stayed at her side as she approached the truck and the makeshift refugee camp surrounding it.
As reported, none of the survivors seemed at immediate risk of death anymore, but they huddled together against the chill of the deepening night and there was not a single face that didn't look absolutely miserable. Carmelita recalculated travel time against the growing snowfall. The conclusion she came to was what her instincts had been leaning towards since the beginning – the lost time searching for King was a loss they were just going to have to take for the sake of these civilians.
"I need someone who can translate for me," she called to the remainder of her team. "Tell everyone here that we'll start taking people down the mountain. Start filling the truck with those that are most injured."
As the decision was relayed and the villagers started doing as instructed, directed by officers, there was a sudden flash of light in the sky. Everyone turned at once to see a giant mass of fireworks speeding through the air, and immediately the survivors began crying out, understandably terrified that the crime lord was aware of their presence and had decided to finish what he'd started.
Carmelita believed it too for a single heart-stopping moment, right up until she realized that instead of coming towards the buried town, the rockets were heading towards the Panda King's distant fortress instead. As it arced upwards to avoid hitting the head of the statue and exploded harmlessly in a flash of uncoordinated color, she saw a dark shape illuminated by the blaze careen through one of the statue's eyes.
This far away, there was no way to see the same ringed tail that had tipped her off the last time, but she knew it could be no one else. The fireworks strapped to his back had been part of a plan after all, and not just for the sake of stealing from King.
Sly had made it inside the fortress. She was running out of time to catch up before he disappeared again.
Before she could do a single thing about her heart now beating rapidly in her chest, an officer appeared in her line of vision with a confused expression.
"There's a call for you from Interpol HQ, Inspector."
The fox looked over, blinking in surprise at the radio being offered to her. Suddenly afraid that Barkley was waiting on the other end to chew her out for doing something wrong – or for somehow finding out about Sly Cooper – she took it gingerly and held it up to her ear with trepidation.
"This is Inspector Fox."
"Hi Inspector, it's Winthorp!"
Never in her life did she think she'd feel relief at hearing that voice, but here she was. "Winthorp. What time is it over in Paris right now?"
"Not important," he dismissed, sounding excited and impatient. "What's important is that case you asked me to work on – the one about Conner Cooper?"
Carmelita's breath caught in her throat. She turned around to face the destroyed town as if to ward off anyone who might be eavesdropping even though her entire team was busy.
"Uh, yeah. Did you find out what happened to that missing report?"
"No, but I have better news! I got in contact with Inspector Pennington, and she still had her own copy of it! Turns out she always kept records for herself and never tossed anything, even after she'd retired from the force. Crazy, right?"
"With that woman? I can believe it." She pressed the transmitter a little closer against her ear. "What was on it?"
"You're not going to believe this." Winthorp paused, probably for dramatic effect, but all it did was make her want to reach through the radio and strangle him until he finally continued. "Conner Cooper had a kid!"
It took a lot more acting talent than she probably possessed to act shocked. Thank goodness the otter couldn't see her face. "Oh – wow. What happened to hi – to them?"
"According to Inspector Pennington's notes, her team found a birth certificate and a bunch of homeschooling records, as well as several framed pictures. It was a son who had just turned eight when the murder happened. Apparently his legal name was 'Sly', which is just nuts. Who names their kid that?"
("It's just – an unusual name. Unique. 'Sly'. Do you have a last name just as unique to go with it?"
"Nope. And I'm not telling it to you, so don't bother asking."
"Why not?"
"Names have power. Truth be told…I'm not the biggest fan of mine.")
Carmelita bit her lip. "Yeah. Crazy. Was there anything else? Do we know what happened to him?"
"I asked the retired inspector about that, cause nothing was mentioned in the report. She told me she theorized that Cooper's son either escaped the night his parents were killed and ended up on the streets somewhere, or that the intruders found him and killed him too. She said it's always puzzled her why they never found his body, though."
"That's…a lot to process."
"I know, right? Could you imagine if there was another Cooper out there, continuing the family's thieving legacy, and we didn't even know?"
The fox looked back up towards the Panda King's fortress. Then she looked towards the truck, where other officers were pulling infiltration equipment out to make room for more civilians to sit inside.
One of the things that was set out and aside was her jetpack – still fully stocked with fuel.
"Hey, Winthorp? Thanks for the update, but I have to go."
"It's my pleasure! Good luck taking down another Fiendish Five member!"
She hung up and made a beeline for the jetpack. The officers who had put it down in the snow looked up at her approach.
"Ma'am?"
"I have an idea," she said, already picking the jetpack up to strap it against her back. "But I need you all to trust me, and I need to know I can trust you."
The rest of her team grouped around her, hearing the no-nonsense tone to her voice. They all waited patiently for her to elaborate without ever asking their own questions, and she was grateful for it.
"I think I know exactly where the Panda King is, and I want to go after him while we still have the element of surprise." The lie came easily, and with less guilt this time. Carmelita refused to think about why. "If I can trust you all to take care of the survivors here, then I'm going to infiltrate that giant stone statue by myself."
A few glances were shared, but none looked dubious or worried. Just Interpol officers processing their superior's plan.
"You can trust us, Inspector Fox. We can handle things on this end." Someone finally spoke up, sounding confident both in themselves and in her. The nods of agreement to that statement almost made her teary-eyed. "What should we tell the team that's still in the criminal's territory?"
"Tell them to head towards the fortress at its base," the fox answered without hesitation. "If they come in from there and I come in from the top, we'll cut off all of King's escape routes at once."
"Roger."
"Thank you for your belief in me, men. I'm proud to work with you all."
A radio was tossed her way. She caught it with ease and clipped it to her belt beside her holster. Then she lifted her head high, surveying the officers who had finally come to respect her.
"I swear to you: one way or another, this ends tonight."
After successfully losing Inspector Fox, Sly had doubled back three times just to be sure there was no chance for her to pick up his trail again. It had been a tedious but necessary process, and by the time he was certain he was safe from being tailed, he had already started searching for the best place to put his plan into action.
The spot he chose was a tall, secluded bluff that was as close to the stone statue as he could manage without risking a guard's flashlight swinging his way. Snow was falling at a rapid pace, but he paid it no mind as he pulled all seven fireworks off his back. One by one he stacked them on top of each other, binding the fuses together in a tightly-woven knot. Once he was certain all of them were secure, he began carefully positioning the amalgamation of firepower in the direction of the fortress.
It took nearly ten minutes for him to be satisfied with his aim; he wasn't an engineer or even very good at math, but this stunt couldn't afford any cut corners or he'd be dead before he ever reached his target. When the rockets had been pointed as accurately as he could possibly eyeball them, the raccoon took the matchbox out of his pocket and lit the knotted fuse. Then he wrapped his hands around the body of the biggest firework, held it above his head, and sprinted towards the sheer side of the bluff.
He had timed it perfectly – just as the hiss of every fuse disappearing simultaneously into the rockets' bases made his ears perk, he jumped off the edge. There was a single second of freefall before his arms were jerked into the air above him so harshly that it nearly dislocated them. He held onto the homemade jetpack for dear life as it flew in a beautiful, deadly arc straight for the stone head.
And went higher. And higher. And higher.
Sly swung his dangling legs forward and let go of the fireworks, falling in an arc towards the left eye window of the statue. It was barely in time as there was a sudden explosion of noise and heat at his back, propelling him even faster than he'd estimated as the rocket bundle finally blew itself apart in a blinding light display. He was headed towards the window – the closed window – like he himself was a rocket, and he had just enough time to throw his arms over his face as his body shot straight through it. Glass pelted his fur and ripped at his clothes, and he tumbled head-over-heels onto hard, cold ground, skidding to a stop on his side while curled into a ball.
It was with a painful sense of déjà vu that he uncurled and began to stand, reminded of his rough jump into Mz. Ruby's lair as his body immediately protested all movement. Shallow cuts lined the skin of his head that he hadn't been able to shield from the violent entry, evident both in pain and the feeling of wetness in his fur, and he could see tears in his hoodie sleeves when he glanced down to make sure his hands hadn't suffered similar injuries. A pang of remorse ran through him at the sight of the yellow fabric ruined by the broken window. This had been a gift, and here he was destroying it.
Then he forcefully reminded himself that it didn't matter what happened to it; not when the gifter no longer mattered to him.
The room he had landed in was devoid of people or alarms when he finally had the sense to look around. The raccoon counted his blessings for the sudden turn of luck as he did a quick three-sixty spin and saw a large, bulky safe on an opposite wall. Immediately he rushed over, ready to repeat the process of cracking it like he had all the others, but his fingers froze a centimeter from metal as he stared at a keypad instead of a dial. Even worse, the keypad wasn't made up of numbers but of an unusual set of symbols. They nagged at the back of his brain, familiar yet undecipherable, and the raccoon let out a quiet curse as he realized that he'd seen something like them before in the Thievius Raccoonus.
Notes from his ancestors of an ancient language that was just as incomprehensible to them as it was now to him. Speculation of it being some kind of bird dialect that was lost to time and lack of speakers. Rioichi and a few other intellectual-type Coopers had tried to interpret it, but they hadn't gotten very far without basic sentences or even a full alphabet to go off of.
There was no doubt in Sly's mind who this language benefited, or why he was seeing it on the massive safe here and now, and it made that cold fear creep up his spine again. He stuffed it down before it could paralyze him for a second time.
Frustrated but not deterred, his eyes landed on the single door leading to the rest of the fortress, and he checked it without any hesitation. When it proved unlocked, he quietly slipped through with his cane in-hand, choosing a direction at random to search for the Panda King's private chambers. If there was ever a place that held the code to open that safe, it would be there, and if he were really lucky then the panda's own stolen pages would be right next to that code.
King's, and Clockwerk's. Only two left and then this would all be over. It would be worth the heartache, and the pain, and the constant terror of being caught. Sly clung to that sentiment as tightly as he did his weapon as he crept through the heart of his enemy's lair.
There were no guards to be found in the fortress. Even the staff had been reduced to a skeleton crew, making it all too easy to avoid them while the raccoon picked locks and searched rooms and overturned every conceivable hiding place. There was no rhyme or reason to the layout of the place, and his memory of everything was foggy, but he consoled himself with the reminder that he didn't have a timer on his back like when he'd been with the Inspector. Sure, she was already traipsing about King's territory, but the chances of her knowing he was inside the statue – and finding a way up herself without getting caught, to boot – were slim to none. It was better that he'd shed the dead weight of her presence for this last stretch. It made things so much less complicated.
He clung to that sentiment, too.
Another turn or two, and Sly was finally in familiar territory. He nearly stumbled as he halted in place, staring at the wallpaper and hanging portraits and Chinese décor that hadn't changed since the last time he'd been here five years ago. Entranced, he pressed his left hand to the wall and traced the groove there where a ten-year-old him had punched it in a fit of anger. No one had been there to witness it, and apparently no one had noticed the dent it had left. It was probably one of the only remaining reminders of his life here. No doubt King had removed everything else after the raccoon had gone to officially work for the Five.
A few meters down, he could see the door to his old room. Sly shuffled over to gape at it with a pit in his stomach that he couldn't identify. The door was devoid of the heavy-duty lock that had kept him trapped inside at night to prevent escape; more evidence to his theory that the panda hadn't wanted Sly's past presence to linger in his precious stronghold.
Against his better judgement, he began to quietly slide the door open – and then stopped immediately as his keen eyes caught the dark interior.
Jing was in his room.
Sly stilled halfway through the doorway, but she had not noticed him. She was facing away from him, kneeling in front of a small shrine she had placed on his old dresser to which she seemed to be praying to by the clasp of her hands and the bowing of her head. Her eyes were closed, but he could see clearly the troubled pinch of her face as her lips moved rapidly in a silent request.
For a long moment, he simply watched the panda while she prayed with his foot still hovering where he had been about to place it in his old room. It wasn't fear of disrupting her actions that kept him from getting her attention, nor was it why he remained perfectly still as he studied every centimeter of her body language, committing it to memory as best he could.
When he finally did move, it was only to slip carefully back out into the hall and silently slide the door closed behind him again so that she would be none the wiser to his presence. The raccoon stared at the shadow cast by her silhouette through the thin wall. Then he turned on his heel and continued onward, fighting every fiber in his body to go back.
It was better this way. For both of them.
When Carmelita touched down on the other side of the shattered window and powered down her jetpack, she was a little surprised to find a completely-intact safe sitting in the room with her. Sly Cooper had definitely come through this way, so why had he left such an enticing prize alone when it was in such easy reach?
She shook her head and refused to examine the bulky thing. There was no use trying to rationalize the irrational mind of a criminal. Finding the answer to that question could come after she had apprehended both him and the Panda King, and they had too much of a head start for her to stop and scrutinize every discrepancy in the environment. Instead, she left the empty room to begin prowling the grounds in search of the ringtail.
Unfortunately, it wasn't long before she found herself hopelessly lost. Inspector Fox didn't know whether the long hallway she turned a corner into was one she'd already been in before, or if the layout was simply identical to the last four she'd passed, but it was doing nothing to help her nerves or her confidence as she continued to find the exact same décor over and over again while encountering not a soul. Not a hide nor hair of Cooper, or King, or any of the latter's employees. It was eerie, like she'd stepped into a nightmare or the setting of a ghost story.
Just as she was starting to wonder whether there was any merit to backtracking to the room with the safe to regain her bearings, the sudden heavy arrival of multiple footsteps somewhere nearby had her tensing up. She had forgotten to reload her shock pistol before running off for the statue, blinded by her determination to stay on the raccoon's trail while it was fresh, and while she wasn't at risk of running out of bullets any time soon, it still meant she had to be frugal with her shots until at least the Panda King was incapacitated.
A large group of guards, or staff, or whoever was coming this way would only deplete her resources and cause enough of a ruckus to bring even more along. Carmelita quickly found the nearest unlocked door and slipped past it, closing it behind her and holding her breath as she listened to the unknown gang travel by unaware on the other side of the wall.
The fur on the back of her neck prickled. Someone else was in this room.
The fox whirled around with her weapon at the ready, prepared to bark orders for surrender at whoever she came face to face with. Then the words died abruptly on her tongue as she stared at who had startled her.
A teenage girl stared back.
"Who are you?" The young panda asked in a quiet voice with the same accent that Sly had, albeit much stronger. She clutched her hands to her chest as if to protect herself from the weapon pointed at her.
"I'm – I –" Carmelita lowered her pistol, dumbfounded by the turn of events and struggling to figure out the best course of action. Of all the things she'd expected to find in King's personal hideout, it wasn't anything close to this. "I'm an Inspector from Interpol."
The girl tilted her head at the title but otherwise didn't seem surprised. She looked Inspector Fox up and down as though she were staring directly into her heart. "You're the woman from Sly's pictures."
That statement jolted her so badly that her weapon came right back up, on full alert again. Amazingly, the panda didn't even flinch.
"What the hell does that mean? How do you know him?" Carmelita growled, unable to help herself. She was sick of getting more questions than answers when it came to that damn raccoon. "Who are you?"
The teen stared at the gun before her eyes slowly lifted to meet Carmelita's. "My name is Jing King. I assume you are here to arrest my father."
Father bounced around inside the fox's skull like a lit firework. For some reason, it didn't stun her as badly as the knowledge that this girl – the Panda King's daughter, apparently – knew Sly.
"Okay. Jing. Yes, I'm here to arrest your f-father." The word was strange to say. Never in her life would she have pictured the homicidal, pyro-loving criminal to have a child. "But you still haven't answered my other question; how do you know Sly Cooper?"
There was a long pause, and the inspector could practically see the calculations running through the panda's head – determining how much information to reveal about herself that wouldn't put her at risk. It was a hesitancy Carmelita knew all too well from a very different source.
"…He is my brother," she finally said. "In a manner of speaking."
Inspector Fox blanched. "What?"
"It was not by his choice, however." Despite her shock, Carmelita caught the hard, protective edge to the younger girl's voice. "Sly was brought here against his will and raised by my father for a time. If he had been allowed to choose his own path, he never would have gone down this one."
Jing was speaking rapidly, sounding almost desperate to say her piece before the fox could recover from being blindsided. The inspector registered her words on a level separate from the rest of her mind; a mind that was currently spinning so badly she was amazed it hadn't flown right off.
"– actually in his old room," the teenager continued, unaware that she had been almost completely tuned out. "You are welcome to look around to confirm my words if that would help you believe his innocence."
Innocence. It was like a magic password had been spoken – Carmelita blinked back to herself, face setting into a pinched frown as she finally glanced around the room for the first time. There was no believing in any innocence when it came to Sly Cooper. He had already shown his true colors.
But still, she humored the girl, if only to lower the risk of her alerting her father to the inspector's presence.
They were in a bedroom, almost completely cleared of anything except for a stripped futon on the floor and an old dresser covered in photo frames. She could feel the panda's eyes on her as she carefully padded over to see what was in those frames, curiosity momentarily overriding her callousness, and picked up one to wipe away the dust obscuring the picture inside.
She nearly dropped the thing.
It was Sly – the young Sly she had seen in that single cracked photo frame from the crime scene of the Cooper home, but that was where the similarities ended. Instead of smiling with a balloon in his hand and his parents on either side, this Sly – around the same age, as far as she could tell – was standing straight-backed with bags under his eyes and a scowl on his face. He seemed to not have realized the picture was being taken, as his gaze was off to the left side towards something out of frame. One arm was curled around his middle, and the other was wrapped protectively around a much younger Jing King, who was peering over his shoulder at whatever had caught his attention. She looked tired but not unhappy; a stark contrast to the raccoon beside her.
Carmelita was so engrossed by the details in the photo that she didn't even hear the teenager come up next to her, and almost dropped the frame again when she spoke.
"That picture was taken about a year after he came to live with us." Jing's voice was mournful and tinged with wistfulness. "I had just recovered from being very sick, and that was the first time I was allowed out of my room in weeks. Sly refused to leave my side the whole day."
The fox looked down at the photo again. The anger in the young raccoon's eyes was visible; just as potent back then as it was in the brief glimpses that she'd seen from him in the present.
A missing body at a crime scene. Missing records from a secure case file. An entire missing existence that should have been documented as soon as it was known. A few things clicked into place all at once.
"…You said something about him being here against his will," Carmelita began slowly, not because she was having trouble putting the pieces together but because she could already see the picture it was forming, and it was starting to make her sick. "How old was – how long ago did that happen?"
"It was eleven years ago that he was brought here. He was eight."
She wanted to scream. She wanted to shoot something. She wanted to march right back to Interpol and demand to know how they had lost the knowledge of the continuation of Cooper's bloodline. Why they hadn't worked harder to find him all those years ago.
How deep did this go? Who had removed confidential reports just to ensure Sly remained off the radar? How many people did the Fiendish Five have on the inside? Why had they gone out of their way to keep a child alive for all these years when it had never, ever aligned with their modus operandi?
How much did Sly know? Why did he risk getting caught by his kidnappers with every step he took back into their domain? What exactly was it –
"They all took something from me. And with you, I knew there was a chance to get it back."
– that he was so desperate to get back?
Inspector Fox whirled on Jing King so fast it made the teenager flinch, but there wasn't enough time to care. She grabbed the girl by the shoulders, staring up at wide, startled eyes that reflected her own wide, manic ones.
"Whatever you know, tell me." She demanded. "About Sly and your father and his cohorts and anything else."
Jing was frozen, gaze darting back and forth across the older woman's face in a desperate attempt to read it. "What…what would you do with such knowledge?"
"Everything I can to see that justice is done." The fox lifted her chin, deadly serious in every line of her body. She had never been so sure of anything in her life as she was in what she was promising now. "To right every wrong that has been done by the Panda King, and the Fiendish Five, and even beyond that. I will not rest until they can never harm anyone ever again, but to do that, I need to know exactly what is going on. I need to know about Sly Cooper."
The girl still looked uncertain. Carmelita closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and finally let out what she had not dared to since the confession that had shattered her heart.
"Please, Jing." When she opened her eyes again, the wetness there was as real as her conviction. "You mentioned his innocence. I want to believe that, but I'm not – I can't – I'm an officer of the law, and I've seen him break it several times over. I need to be convinced that there's a good enough reason he's done all of that. You have to convince me, or else I can't help either of you. Please convince me."
Her fingers tightened against Jing's shoulders.
"Please."
There was a sharp intake of breath from the panda as they stared at each other; one who deeply loved Sly Cooper because of her upbringing, and one who wanted to in spite of it.
"…Okay."
Giant hands reached up to grasp her own. The look in Jing's eyes was haunted, and yet there was an iron will hiding behind it; the same unyielding spirit that Sly had held in all the time Carmelita had known him.
"Okay. I'll tell you everything."
A/N: The alternate title of this chapter is "The Author Struggles with Time-Blindness at the Best of Times and the Holidays Ruined Her Routine Entirely". I'm just glad I was able to get it done and posted before Christmas double-whammied me. Fingers crossed I can get back into my original weekly rhythm, cause next chapter is going to be a doozy and a half.
Anywho, thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoyed!