Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.

Murray had no idea what time it was when his phone startled him awake. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, hand reaching blindly for the thing that was blaring like a siren on his nightstand. Squinting at a number he didn't recognize, the hippo silenced the call before laying it back down, then rolled over towards the wall in the hopes of falling back asleep quickly.

No such luck. After barely twenty seconds of blessed quiet, the phone lit up again just as obnoxiously loud as the first time. Murray groaned in irritation as he realized that this was still that same strange number and they weren't going to go away any time soon. What kind of telemarketers called multiple times in the middle of the night?

The most stubborn ones, apparently.

Against his better judgment, the hippo answered it with a groggy "hello?"

"I need to talk to your coworker right now."

"Whuh…" He sat up with a frown. That voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't for the life of him place it. "I'm sorry, what? Who are you?"

"It's Sly – the, the raccoon with Inspector Fox. You gave me your phone number, remember?"

It took a few moments for him to remember the quiet guy who had come in with Miss Fox several weeks back. He sounded impatient and stressed, and that made Murray sit up in bed just as much as recognizing the caller did.

"Oh, uh, yeah, hi Sly, it's good to hear from you? Why are you calling in the middle of the night?"

"It's not night where I'm at right now," Sly said, still impatient although now he seemed a little apologetic about waking him up. "Look, I need to talk to your coworker. Do you have his number so I can call him?"

"Uh…"

The hippo glanced at his shut bedroom door. He and Bentley were roommates, and it was more than likely that the turtle was still awake and working, but he wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to tell this stranger. Everyone always told him he was too trusting for his own good, and that it wasn't polite to share personal information about other people without asking them first.

"…Why do you want to talk to him, exactly?"

Sly let out a loud, frustrated huff. "It's really important. I need – I – it's – Inspector Fox and I were working on a case together, but she's in danger. I can't help her without your friend's help."

Murray's eyes went wide. He clutched the phone closer to his face. "Wait, Miss Fox is in trouble? Is she okay? What happened?"

"I don't know if she's okay." The stress in the raccoon's voice was even stronger now. "I can't tell you what happened, but the more time I waste, the more likely it is that she's – that I can't help her. So I need to talk to Bentley. Please, Murray."

He bit his lip and began making his way to the door. "Okay, um…hang on just one second, okay?"

Sly made another noise, like he was being strangled, and that got the hippo moving even faster. If it was true that Miss Fox was in danger and only Bentley could help, then he couldn't waste any time!

He headed down the hall to his roommate's room and was relieved to see light filtering through the crack under the door. When he knocked, he heard Bentley jump in his chair.

"Murray?" The turtle asked as he opened the door to squint at him. There were large bags under his eyes beneath his glasses and he looked like he hadn't even tried to go to bed the whole night. "What are you doing up this late?"

There would be time to scold him for not sleeping later, after they dealt with whatever scary thing Miss Fox and her friend were involved in. He shoved his phone into Bentley's hands, making him blink rapidly in surprise.

"That raccoon guy who was with Miss Fox just called me," Murray told him as fast as he could. "He said she's in danger and he needs your help! You gotta help him, Bentley!"

"I – wha – hold on…" He put the phone to his ear. "Hello? This is Bentley. Why did you call Murray in the middle of – what?"

The hippo watched, anxious, as his friend's expression changed from confusion to shock to concern in seconds.

"Well, that's awful, but I don't know how I'm supposed to…her tech? You'll have to be more specific; I don't even know what you have – okay. Uh huh. Shock pistol and a…a jetpack? What model? You need to find the serial number! It – yeah, it should be somewhere on there."

Murray twiddled his thumbs while Bentley began talking about special technology and how to use them and other things that just went completely over his head. He tried very hard not to shuffle in place, afraid that it might distract him.

"…Okay, that covers everything, I think," the turtle finally said after several minutes of back-and-forth. "Are we finished? Cause I'd really like to go back to bed. I know you're worried about Inspector Fox, but I'm sure you'll be able to – pardon?"

He got quiet very suddenly, eyes growing wider and wider over whatever Sly was saying.

"You want to make a – hang on, hang on, I need to –"

With one quick, nervous glance at his roommate, Bentley turned around to disappear back into his room, still on the phone. His door slammed shut before Murray could join him. The hippo stood there in shock for a minute, unsure if he should follow or not, before deciding that his friend had closed the door for a reason and probably wanted some privacy.

Why he wanted privacy was a mystery, but there were a lot of things the turtle did that were mysteries to Murray.

Almost half an hour later, Bentley finally came out of his room. He trudged over to the tiny kitchen where the hippo had started making a midnight snack while he waited, and gave the cellphone back with a glazed look in his eye.

"Uh, Bentley? Everything okay?"

"I sincerely hope that was a trusted coworker of Inspector Fox," he said, slow and anxious, "because if he isn't, I might have just done something incredibly illegal."

Murray gasped. "You mean he might have stolen her stuff and you just helped him figure out how it all works?"

"No. Well, yes, but also…"

Bentley gulped.

"…I just helped him build a bomb."

Sly watched the Panda King turn his back and leave the medical room without looking even the slightest bit upset, despite the fact he had just dropped a bomb on the raccoon's life and destroyed it in a single instant. He should have known not to trust one of the people who had attacked his home and killed his family, who had helped kidnap him, but after all these years, he'd thought – he'd hoped – that things had changed. He'd really thought that the panda would protect him when it came down to it.

He should have known better. He should have known that the Panda King was just as much of a monster as –

"You cry over false hope."

The kit froze with tears still streaming down his face.

He had not forgotten who had perched in the far corner during that fight, but that presence had not felt like the most pressing threat while he had been pleading with King to delay his fate. Now, as his wide eyes slid from the door to the yellow gaze burning straight through him, he felt very stupid for ever thinking otherwise.

"The Panda King was never interested in your wellbeing, and you are foolish to have ever believed otherwise," Clockwerk continued. He had not moved a metallic muscle from his spot since speaking. "There are no allies for you here. Even his daughter, who you thought cared for you, has turned her back on you. She was the one who told me that you had fled. She is the reason you were caught."

Sly didn't dare protest; he didn't even think of doing so. This creature had always cut to his core by speaking only the truth. He had taken great pleasure in it on the night he had told the raccoon that he belonged to the Fiendish Five, long before he fully understood what that meant. Even now he could feel it – under the hatred still radiating off of his metal shell, the monster bird was delighted that the few people Sly had cared for in this nightmare had betrayed him.

He took a deep shuddering breath and did his best to remain perfectly still. His chest ached horribly under its bandages. The owl studied him in silence for several agonizing seconds.

"Our conversation from here out does not leave this room."

It was a statement, not a command, and the boy swallowed alongside a stiff, terrified nod. Seemingly satisfied by the agreement, Clockwerk stepped forward until he was standing at the foot of Sly's bed. He had to hunch heavily forward, too big for the room's ceiling; it made him loom even more over the tiny, trapped subject of his attention.

"As the Panda King said, you will join the rest of my team in their criminal exploits beginning next week. The consequences have already been laid out for if you refuse, or attempt escape again. These parameters will always remain in place."

The raccoon didn't close his eyes in despair like he wanted to. He continued to stare at the monster, paying attention for all he was worth.

"It is clear how much you despise us. You would run from us again if given the chance. The only reason you will not is that as much as you hate working for those who killed your parents, you fear death and pain even more."

Clockwerk leaned down until his beak was an inch from Sly's face. Now, there was nothing but hatred in those terrible eyes.

"Make no mistake, Sly Cooper: your survival from my attack was deliberate. I could have killed you as I did your father, and no one – not the Panda King, not the rest of the Fiendish Five, not anyone – would have dared to stop me. You despise all of us, but it is nothing compared to the loathing I have for you. Your name, your blood, your heritage, everything. You live by my word alone, and you will die by my claws. Sooner or later, you will become bold enough to retaliate against the others, or think you are capable enough to slip out of their grasp. And even if it is neither of these things, you are not infallible. You will eventually outgrow your usefulness to my team. They will tire of your presence, and they will ask me to relieve them of the burden that you are. It is not a prediction; it is a fact."

The child could feel his breaths coming out faster, shallower, but it was as though all his panic was locked deep in his body as he stared into that yellow gaze while the owl told him exactly what his fate would be. He couldn't flee, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even blink as the words sank into his brain and his heart. All he could do was clutch the blanket in his lap for all it was worth, waiting for things to end.

Finally, miraculously, Clockwerk pulled away, giving just enough space for Sly to feel in control of himself again. He let out one single, quiet choked sob, trying desperately to keep his body from falling apart for how much it had started shaking. Never once, though, did he take his eyes off of the threat still standing before him.

"There is one exception to this outcome, however." The monster shifted so that he could lift one of his clawed feet into the air. Sly's eyes locked onto the Cooper cane he was holding. "I told you, five years ago, that we would see how well you would measure up to your father. The Fiendish Five all believe that this referred to how useful you would be to them as a criminal, but that is not my true intent. Only you will have that knowledge. You have made yourself known as a Cooper, now, and thus you have earned my utmost honesty. Do not take it for granted."

The raccoon gave another stilted nod, unsure if he was even supposed to respond but not willing to risk it.

"You see, I play a very different game than the rest of them. When we stole the Thievius Raccoonus, they saw it only as a means to an end; they have been using the book as a mere tool without understanding what it truly does. It does not simply give you a better way to achieve your criminal goals, but instead makes you a better criminal. The fools in your bloodline have flaunted this book of secrets, of betterment, for centuries upon centuries with no struggles in their lives. They inherited it through the ages, as if not thieves but kings, until this chain of arrogance and ego was finally broken with your very existence."

Clockwerk placed the cane on the bed in front of Sly. He leaned forward again, scrutinizing the boy as if daring him to take it. The kit didn't move.

"Let's make a deal, Sly Cooper. You and I," the owl said. His tone was unreadable. "I want to see what becomes of a Cooper who is forced to rely on his own raw talent instead of the Thievius Raccoonus. I want to see if you can keep up with the Fiendish Five, but more than that, I want to see if you can surpass them. I want to see if you can prove that a Cooper is worth more than the falsehoods and thievery that they are known for."

He tilted his head, and the expectation was clear. Sly Cooper picked up the cane.

"I want you to steal back your Thievius Raccoonus from every member of my team. If you are caught in your attempts to do this, it will be treated as a betrayal, and we will kill you. However, if you succeed in restoring the book completely…you will be free. Free of the life you are living, and free of the name that you carry. Do you accept these terms?"

The very idea of freedom from all of this made his heart beat out of his still-bloody chest. He thought about the deal this monster was offering. This monster who had killed his father – the strongest person he'd ever known – and had hurt him so terribly. He was no more trustworthy than the rest of the Fiendish Five, and yet…

And yet, what other choice did the raccoon have? He was condemned no matter what. At least in this way, there was the tiniest bit of hope for a future he no longer dared to have.

Sly Cooper took one deep breath, then another, and held the cane out towards Clockwerk. His voice, thin and raspy from screaming, did not waver.

"I accept."

Clockwerk took the offered hook by two talons. He shook it with deadly honesty, gentle as could be, then released it and turned towards the door.

"I have left my portion of the Thievius Raccoonus here with the Panda King to give you a sporting chance," he said, staring at Sly as though he was a powerful rival and not an injured child. "My home is in the Krakarov Volcano, but I do not expect you to make it that far. In fact, let us assume that the only time you will ever see it is if and when you fail in this game we have begun. I think it would be a fitting place for the death of the very last Cooper."

When Carmelita woke up, it was to the loud, constant hum of machinery.

She groaned as she gingerly sat up, aching from head to toe as if she'd just been hit by a car. The ground beneath her was metallic, but deceptively warmer than she would have expected. When she looked up, she was surprised to see the slightest reflection of light in front of her. She did a slow three-sixty to the exact same sight at every turn.

She was in a large, glass…thing.

The inspector pressed one hand against the glass. It felt warm as well. Realization set in that it wasn't just the container that was like this; the very air itself was thick with heat, despite the room she was in having no obvious source for it beyond the half dozen computers and their ridiculously-sized monitors lining the walls. From every top corner, four cameras were trained on her, and she could see heavy-duty vents embedded all over the floor outside her odd cage seemingly at random.

The single exception to all the fancy technology was one wall-to-ceiling mirror, which mocked her as she stared at it and her own face stared back. Her winter coat was in tatters – probably ripped to shreds by the talons of whatever had carried her off. Her hair was a knotted mess of a braid, and there were tiny grey flecks scattered about in it that was definitely not snow. Carmelita began lifting her arm to investigate and immediately regretted it as her body protested with pain.

She pulled up the rim of her shirt, mysterious hair dirt momentarily forgotten, and grimaced when she found a dark purple bruise wrapped around her entire midsection. It was visible through her fur, in the exact shape of the crushing grip that had stolen her breath and knocked her unconscious. Holding back the full-body shudder that threatened to overtake her at the memory took more willpower than she would ever admit.

Aside from the bruising, she was unharmed. The fox viewed it as a silver lining in this terrible situation she had found herself in, and next began cataloguing what she had available for escape.

Her jetpack and shock pistol were missing; it took a moment to remember that she had removed them while talking Sly down from his near-homicide and hadn't picked them back up before finding him outside of the observatory. Taking them off was something she didn't regret, even though she kicked herself for her lack of foresight after the immediate threat had ended. The only thing still on her was her radio, but, as she scrambled to turn it on, it was a hope quickly dashed when all it spit out was static.

Without the radio working, she had no way to contact Interpol. Her GPS tracker had been left in the truck with most of the rest of her stuff for the sake of mobility and speed over anything else. None of her team knew where she was; she doubted any of them had even seen her get carried off. Clockwerk – because it had to be Clockwerk, who else would it have been? – had ambushed her and Sly so silently that she hadn't even heard his approach until it was too late. No one else would have thought to look up while they were preoccupied with securing the Panda King's fortress. The inspector was on her own when it came to getting out of here.

She had the thought, for a moment, of her former partner – and then firmly pushed it away before it could give her false hope. There was a good chance he had no idea where she'd been taken, and even if he did know, he was terrified of the Five's leader. Expecting him to follow her to the ends of the earth with his worst nightmare waiting there was expecting far, far too much.

Even if he didn't hate her anymore.

Mind made up, Carmelita began testing the glass to see if it was thin enough to shatter with her feet or even the radio. It didn't give no matter how much force she hit it with, so instead she turned to the floor where it met metal. There wasn't the slightest weakness she could find in the entire circle. The glass rose high above her, capped by a metal cover, but the diameter of her container was too wide for her to climb up the cylindrical walls.

Frustrated and sweating up a storm, she began taking off her shredded coat, then paused as she realized there was a slight weight to one of the pockets that she hadn't noticed before. The inspector pulled the thing out quickly, hoping it was something she could use.

It was Sly's camera she held in her hands.

Carmelita's mind stalled with surprise. She hadn't seen this thing since Wales. She remembered it, of course – the raccoon had gotten it somewhere between the USA and Haiti, and she'd often catch him taking pictures of just about any novelty he saw while they traveled, which had been a lot.

In hindsight, maybe she should have taken more note of the fact that he considered mini-marts and migrating birds to be among such novelties.

Thinking about Sly and his terrible lot in life made a rush of righteous anger flow right through her. The fox tucked the camera safely away back in her coat, deeming it a mystery to solve at a later time, and turned towards the open room beyond her odd prison.

"Hey!" She yelled up at the ceiling. "Is anyone there? What's the meaning of this?"

There was no response except for that continued, constant hum of machinery. Carmelita worked her mouth before taking a step closer to the nearest barrier.

"I know you're watching me. I can see those cameras. What do you want? Is this a ransom for Interpol? Some kind of retaliation? What demands do you have?"

Still nothing. The inspector let out a frustrated growl and kicked at the reinforced glass. All it gave her for her troubles was a smarting toe.

"You're Clockwerk, aren't you?" She called out one last time, hoping to get a reply through that. "Kidnapping doesn't fit your known MO. Is it because I've arrested all your colleagues? If you were afraid of getting caught too or wanted revenge, why not just kill me?"

The cameras all stared at her in mocking silence. She bit her lip, running over the few facts she had. Clockwerk didn't do things like this. He worked in the shadows, never revealing himself except to help his fellow Five escape at the very end of a heist. The bird was as elusive a criminal as Conner Cooper had been.

Cooper.

Inspector Fox stiffened as she remembered that night in Kunlun. Sly, dejected and certain his life was over. Offering to let her arrest him because he thought it was the only choice of fate that he could make for himself. The pure horror on his face as he looked up at what had felt like the grim reaper bearing down on them both, and then even worse – the resignation that he had clearly fallen into without even trying to run.

She thought about Jing's story of his failed escape and the price he had paid for it. His strange shift from just wanting to get away for good, to going back over and over to steal his family's book back for no rational reason.

"This isn't about me at all, is it?" She asked, as much to herself as to her absent captor. "It's about Sly Cooper."

It was like the name alone had flipped a switch of a long-dormant machine. The computer screens all over the room turned on, and Carmelita was suddenly, finally, face to face with the dark silhouette of the leader of the Fiendish Five.

"It has always been about Cooper." The giant owl said. His voice was cold. Emotionless. Robotic, even. It sent a shiver up her spine. "From the very beginning to the very end."

"But why?" She questioned, understanding the actions but not the motive. "You killed a rival criminal in Conner Cooper, and then kept his son alive because he was useful. But why the – why toy with him all this time? I know he was trying to take back what you'd all stolen from him, but…he doesn't actually care about that, does he?"

Clockwerk didn't respond. He simply stared at Carmelita, his yellow eyes the only detail she could fully make out in his shrouded visage.

"I asked him why he kept risking getting caught by you guys, and all he could say was that he needed to get his book back. He told me right before you attacked us that he had to do that, and then he'd be able to 'escape for real.' It sounds like someone obsessed with fixing their family's reputation, but that's not what was going on at all, was it?"

Her voice came out louder and louder as the revelation hit her in full, terrible force.

"All he's ever wanted was to be free, but he knew you'd come after him. He's terrified of you because he fully believed it wasn't possible to escape while you were out there. You made him think that you – that you'd let him go if he stole his book back? That you wouldn't chase after him if he, what, if he humiliated your team enough? Is that what this is all about?"

The owl's head twitched to the side in a perfect forty-five-degree angle. "I suppose I can indulge in this thread you've managed to untangle, just this once. It has been a very long time since someone who wasn't a Cooper discovered one of my plans, after all, and you are certainly not in a position to do anything about it for much longer."

Carmelita suppressed another shiver, and refused to look anything other than the confident, collected Inspector she had become over the course of this entire affair.

"While it is true that I allowed Cooper to believe he had any fate but death waiting for him by recovering the Thievius Raccoonus, you are only half-correct about my motives. I do not care about such shallow, insignificant things as the Fiendish Five's reputation. Any failure on their part to protect their stolen pages of that book was entirely on them, but I would never allow the world to assume that I would let Cooper go if he were successful. It is not possible for him to succeed, you see. Even though the rest of my cohorts disappointed me, I expected it. I planned for it.

"I wanted to show the world that without their precious book, the Cooper line was nothing. It has been their crutch for thievery for as long as I have known them, and now that I have taken it away, the proof of that is known to all. Sly Cooper was not even able to get this far on his own; he was so weak that he was forced to seek aid from you."

The dark glee in his voice made her skin crawl. Her tail twitched without consent while she absorbed his twisted words and motives.

"I don't understand," she said, very slowly, as every alarm in her mind suddenly went off at once. "You keep talking about the Cooper family, like – like you've been around as long as they have. How old are you?"

Clockwerk regarded her for a long, silent minute. Eventually he tilted his head in the opposite direction, almost as if amused by the inquiry – or perhaps deciding she was worth an honest answer for her part in the game he had been playing without anyone else knowing.

"Perfection has no age," he finally said. "I have kept myself alive for hundreds of years with a steady diet of jealousy and hate."

Carmelita couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What are you saying? That you're…immortal?"

"Revenge is the prime ingredient in the fountain of youth. I have been patiently awaiting the day when I would finally eclipse the Cooper family's thieving reputation."

The glee was gone. All that was left was the darkness and the spite. It was so powerful that the inspector nearly averted her gaze even though she wasn't the target of it.

"Those arrogant Coopers dared to claim they held the title of master thieves, but they were always inferior. I am a master thief. I was the master thief. The original. The antecedent. And I have proved it, time and time again."

"How…how would you prove something like that?" She asked, dreading the answer but compelled to learn.

"By achieving the ultimate crime."

Soulless yellow eyes burned into hers. The eyes of a predator.

"To steal the lives of such master thieves – that is how I prove my superiority."

Carmelita recoiled, appalled and horrified by the thing she was talking to. "Criminal" was too kind a word to describe him, even among his Fiendish companions. He was nothing less than a monster.

"How many?" The question came out in a whisper against her own will.

"Nearly all of them. Those who did not succumb to sickness, or injury, or unfortunate circumstances. I hunted entire family trees through the generations. I diluted their sprawling lineage across the entire world, narrowing it down meticulously until only one pitiful, struggling bloodline remained. I nearly completed my goal with Conner Cooper, but he evaded me for too long and became too well-known through his exploits and his book. So, I found fulfillment in his son instead."

She finally let herself shudder. Sometime in their "conversation", her fur had begun standing on end and hadn't stopped. It was no wonder Sly had believed himself out of options the last time she had seen him. She had no doubt that if she hadn't intervened, he would not have survived the trip to wherever Clockwerk had taken her.

That thought gave her pause.

"…What about me?" The fox dared to ask. "I stopped you from doing what you wanted to with him, and now I'm…here. Why let me live when I wasn't even your target to begin with?"

"Your actions are inconsequential. Your life is inconsequential. You are alive only because I found a use for it."

"And what use is that?" She demanded, drawing her shoulders up as high as she could to hide the way her fur was still puffed out in fear.

"Bait."

The word caught the inspector completely off guard. Her bravado faltered just a little bit in the wake of confusion.

"I'm…what?" She blinked. "For Sly?"

Clockwerk's answer was the slightest tilt of his head back to a vertical position. Carmelita would have pretended to scoff if not for the sick pit growing in her stomach.

"That's not going to work. We were only partners for a month before I found out who he was, and I've been trying to arrest him since. He hates me."

"Does he?" It was asked with something actually bordering on an emotion other than hatred and delight; the first he'd shown. The fox had been starting to wonder whether he was even capable of it.

And yet, that emotion was one she couldn't identify at all.

"Of course he does!" For some reason, convincing Clockwerk of this suddenly felt very important. "He nearly killed me in Wales. And – and in Kunlun, I tried to gun him down when we ran into each other again."

She pushed the last interaction they'd had out of her mind. Even if they had made some tentative form of reconciliation in the moment, it wasn't enough to repair the chasm of hurt she'd caused him. Surely not enough for the raccoon to risk his life for her.

"If you truly think so, then perhaps I'll simply kill you right now."

Carmelita froze. The owl continued.

"You won't survive either way, of course, but maybe a different lure would work better if you're so certain you won't be enough to draw him out. Considering the Panda King was the only of my former colleagues he had any attachment to, and has since been…compromised, his daughter may be an ideal substitute."

"Don't you dare harm that girl!" The inspector slammed her hands on the glass in thunderous, instinctive fury. "She has nothing to do with any of this!"

Clockwerk cocked his head. "What a peculiar response. I would have thought you'd beg for me to spare your life if I were to switch your places."

"I will not let you threaten an innocent person," she growled. "Not her, not Sly, not anyone."

He chuckled. It was a low, terrible sound. "It's too late for empty platitudes, Inspector Fox. We shall see whether Sly Cooper is willing to come and save you. If he does not, then I will dispose of you and find a better lure."

And with that promise made, the ancient leader of the Fiendish Five disappeared from every screen. Carmelita collapsed to her knees, knowing she was still being watched but pretending otherwise as she stared at the giant mirror across the room and wondered whether it was worse to wish for Sly to save her or not.

Eventually, almost without thinking, she reached for her discarded winter coat and found the camera within. She ran her hands over it but didn't turn it on, thinking over everything that Clockwerk had just confessed to. Her mind spun over the utter depravity of the creature she was trapped by. Knowing that Sly, or Jing, or any other number of people would be at his mercy was as bitter a pill to swallow as knowing that regardless of what happened from here on out, her life would probably not last long enough to witness the aftermath.

For the first time in a very long time, Inspector Carmelita Fox felt well and truly helpless.

She didn't know when she finally began looking through the camera. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but at some point, her brain snapped out of its stupor long enough to realize that this inconspicuous little device was all she had left of her former partner. She didn't know how it had gotten into her coat pocket, but she didn't care – right now it was the most precious thing she had ever owned, right next to her lost shock pistol.

At first, they were exactly as she expected: pictures of stores and streets and cities, pictures of scenery, pictures of the occasional oddity that stuck out more than usual. But as they moved from the U.S. to Haiti to Wales, she began noticing herself popping up more and more. What had started as a sporadic appearance of blue hair or orange jacket in the background started moving to the foreground, and then became the focus completely.

There were pictures of her admiring the street vendors at a farmer's market; pictures of her arguing with an officer over whether her parked car was a registered police vehicle; pictures of her up close, clearly looking at Sly behind the camera with a bemused yet open smile. Almost every single one was without the fox knowing the picture was being taken, and the few that weren't featured the same slightly confused, honest happiness as Past-Her seemed to find it funny that her partner had wanted photos of her.

She'd had no idea. All the time they'd spent traveling together, that month or so of his snark and irritability and gradual trust, she had thought he surely couldn't have felt the same way about her as she had started to feel about him. Whether he was aware of it or whether it was a subconscious thing, Sly Cooper had gone from seeing her as the cop who could be his means to an end, to someone he seemed to truly care for.

Carmelita cycled through all of them slowly, drinking in every detail so that she could commit them all to memory as she sat curled up against the wall of her glass prison and waited for her fate to be decided. This camera and its contents had been a candid snapshot into the raccoon's mindset; she wanted to hold on tight to the feathery feeling in her chest every time a new picture of herself came up for as long as she possibly could.

And then, very suddenly, all pictures of her were gone. It was back to scenery and cities again, as it had started out, although she recognized very few of these locations. The personality he had started to grow in his photography – both with her as the subject or without – disappeared just as abruptly. All the new photos were almost clinical; no longer snapshots of lives and what it was like to live, but simply back to the basics of seeing something and taking a picture of it just to show he did.

Understanding hit the fox like a freight train, but she still gave the new batch her full attention. There were hundreds of them stored on the thing from when Sly had first bought it all the way to Kunlun; she recognized some of the scenery at the base of the mountain as the exact same that she had passed with her Interpol team probably days later. By the time she reached the end, her throat was dry from lack of water and her muscles nearly cramped every time she shifted.

And then, she came to the last one.

It was Sly – the only picture of him across the entire gallery – sitting on a bed, in a room that Carmelita didn't recognize. He had his chin propped up in his hand and he was staring out the nearby open window at the night sky, obviously unaware of the camera aimed his way. There were bags under his eyes and he looked both contemplative and melancholy.

She could see historical Chinese décor all over the room, and the reason for the picture clicked in her head – as well as how the camera had ended up here with her. Either the raccoon had left it out where Jing had gotten ahold of it, or he had given it to her directly. She wondered when the teenager had slipped it into her coat pocket and couldn't help but be impressed for not noticing it. Clearly, she had not been lying about learning a few things from her surrogate brother regarding sleight of hand.

Just as the inspector began working her way through the photos a second time, the screens in the room booted to life again, startling her to her feet in preparation for fight, flight, or another harrowing conversation.

This time, Clockwerk did not waste any time before cutting to the chase.

"Sly Cooper is here."

Carmelita swallowed and flexed her hands at her side. She fought the icy panic and the dangerous hope that were both creeping across her mind, pretending instead to be indifferent to the announcement.

"He knows you are alive, but not where you are. I am curious if he will be able to find you before my security measures overpower him." If the owl had seen through her bluff, or was worried that Sly would succeed, he did not show it. His metal countenance was as unreadable as always.

"I believe in him. He's made it this far on his own," she dared to say over the fear that her captor would take it as a challenge that he was underestimating her former partner.

"Indeed, he has. His luck has certainly held out longer than expected."

Clockwerk leaned forward, and she very much did not like the sudden gleam in his eye.

"But this time, Inspector, you are not going to be his savior. You are going to be his doom."

A/N: I love villains. I love monologues. I love villain monologues. I may love these things a little TOO much because I think I made Clockwerk awfully chatty compared to canon, oops. The cat is finally out of the bag, the truth is finally revealed, and now we know exactly why Sly was so single-mindedly obsessed with recovering the Thievius Raccoonus instead of simply disappearing into the dead of night.

Also, kudos to everyone who predicted that Bentley and Murray would make another appearance! There were quite a few of you and I was delighted at how many remembered that Sly had a way to contact them.