"Carmelita?" Sly's voice is soft, drifting lazily amid the starlight. "Tell me a story."

"…What?"

"A story!" He shuffles around to face her. "I don't know if you noticed – maybe it's buried under my many other talents and interests – but I love stories. I'm a story guy. And I'd love to hear more about you."

"What are you saying?" She tries a smirk. It feels good. "You won't fall asleep unless I read you a fairytale?"

"Something like that."

She thinks it over for a moment, but before she can reply he speaks again.

"Actually, there's always been something I meant to ask you."

"Oh?"

"How did you become an Inspector?" he says, with genuine curiosity. "So fast, I mean. You're, what, three years older than me? Four? And you were already high up at Interpol when we met. There's gotta be a story there."

Carmelita frowns. "Well… maybe not a 'story' so much as a history. I'm not like Neyla-"

"Good."

"-scoring a promotion out of one big victory. It was a lot of hard work. I skipped some years in school thanks to high grades. Got into Sleuth Academy early, and then used that to leverage my way further."

He smirks. "And having four generations of law enforcement behind you helped?"

"I," says Carmelita. Then a pause. "That," she continues, "was admittedly part of it, but–"

"Oh, no, no, of course." She feels Sly tense. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't… Obviously you worked hard."

"Yes. But you're right. My parents helped me from very early on. I had advantages. Ones I used."

"Sure."

There is a pause before he speaks again.

"So there's no cool… Carmelita Fox origin story? Even just a little prequel?"

She catches a note of disappointment in his voice. She chuckles at it – but part of her does feel bad. She doesn't want to leave him empty-handed. Not when he asked her so nicely.

"Okay. Here's a prequel. Like I said, there aren't really any cases that obviously bumped me up a rank, but… my first solo case as an Interpol agent is a good story, I think."

"Yes!" Sly settles in. His grin is wide, but there's a soft gleam to his eyes. "Please. After you."

"Alright. So, to get right into it…"

The bus was practically an oven. Not what she had expected from her January.

The further south you went in Venezuela, the closer you got to the Equator, with the Brazilian border barely missing it - two invisible lines which didn't quite intersect. She was here about different invisible lines, of course, and the all too visible results they had.

She just wished the air-con in this thing worked better.

Carmelita huffed, trying to keep a firm grip on herself. She was still proving herself at Interpol, and this case was going to be vital to that. After graduating from Sleuth Academy so young, many of her superiors simply refused to believe she had the necessary skills to handle solo work. If this went well, then she could finally start tackling cases independently, the way she always knew she was suited for.

Standing in the back of teams and glowering was not working out great so far.

This was an understandable bridge. She had left Europe by herself and would be returning alone as well. She was the sole Interpol agent currently investigating this case. But when she arrived, she would fall in with a local team - relationships that would not be guaranteed to last more than one week. Acceptable terms.

She just had to keep herself from passing out before she got there. She glared a hole in the back of the driver's head, urging him to hit the speed limit and stay there. Instead, the sloth at the wheel was taking every curve with almost zen-like caution.

Carmelita had already prepared herself as best she could. She had read the case file thoroughly enough that she could revisit each part mentally… and she had grown tired of doing that, too, on a bus with little else to occupy her attention. She knew she was ready. She had to be.

At last, the bus trundled into the remote village where she would meet her new colleagues. Her boots were firm on the floor before the vehicle had fully stopped.

It was time to make a first impression.

"So, paint me a picture here," says Sly, with one of his wry smiles. "How adorable were you? Because I'm picturing you as very adorable."

"Sly. I was a fully qualified, active Interpol agent."

"Interpol's cutest agent, yeah." He grins. "Okay, okay. I'll limit myself to one question. Tell me about your–"

please don't say

"hair."

Carmelita winces. "I mean, that's not–"

"Oh, Carmelita. There's no need to be ashamed. What were you rocking? A side-ponytail?"

"No."

"Pixie cut?"

"No."

"Oh wow, it wasn't pigtails?!"

"It isn't," she growls, "important."

But she can't resist the look in his eyes, the twinkling curiosity. He doesn't need to say any more. A few moments under that gaze, and Carmelita relents.

"I…"

Constable Fox stepped from the bus, hard brown eyes taking in her surroundings. One hand stayed on the baton clipped to her belt. With the other, she ran her fingers through her sharp, short mohawk.

"No," breathes Sly, with wonder in his voice and love in his eyes.

"Yes," mumbles Carmelita.

"That's amazing."

"It was a phase."

"Are there pictures?"

"I sincerely hope not."

"Wow." He shakes his head. "You can end the story here, honestly. I don't think you're about to top this."

"I think I'll keep going until I arrest at least one person," says Carmelita miserably. "For my own sake."

"Who'd you arrest?"

"Let me tell the story and you'll find out."

Constable Fox bid farewell to the driver and then left the bus behind her, striding for the largest building in what could charitably be described as 'town'. She had been told that, so far from the cities, settlements would be sparse and simple. Nothing about this street, populated by an uneven series of tired, dusty buildings, contradicted that briefing.

There were locals here, going about their daily lives, but it didn't take her long to pick out her liaison. There, watching her with the intent scrutiny of a fellow officer, was another fox.

He was shorter than her, but something about the way he carried himself projected the steady, silent surety borne of experience. His dark grey fur contrasted neatly with the blue of his uniform, and there was obvious intelligence in the black eyes meeting her gaze.

"Woah. Should I be jealous?"

"Hush."

"So you're the Interpol observer." There was no question mark; he didn't seem the type to ask questions he knew the answer to. He approached her and offered a hand. "Primer Inspector José Ramírez Cerdocyono. Good to have you here."

"Constable Carmelita Montoya Fox."

He had a firm handshake. It didn't last long, either. "Very good. I take it you're familiar with the case?"

"Of course."

"Then you won't mind telling me what you know, in your own words."

Carmelita raised an eyebrow, already on the defensive. Already wondering if this local team really thought so little of her that-

"Forgive me," he said simply, "but policing in Venezuela… let's just say organisation can be a challenge. I'm in the habit of making sure everyone on my team knows exactly what we're doing and who we're dealing with."

She made herself nod. "Understandable policy… Fine, then."

He gestured for her to follow him as she spoke. They fell into step.

"I'm here to provide support, where possible, and to file a full report to Interpol's South American headquarters on you and your team. You've put together a group of officers from unconnected departments into an independent task-force…"

Her tone must have made her feelings too clear. "As I said, the precision you're used to at Interpol is not common here."

"I see. In any case, your team has been working for almost a year on one goal." Now, at least, she could let her tone harden as much as she pleased. "The immediate arrest of the criminal kingpin known to authorities as 'El Diablo'."

"Ooooh. " Sly wiggles his fingers theatrically. "El Diablo! The same terrifying moniker chosen by every other dirtbag south of Texas."

"This was a while ago, to be fair. It wasn't quite as overused yet." She sighs. "Now there's an entire folder at Interpol for defining which 'El Diablo' you mean…"

"And what does the folder say about this guy?"

"What anyone else would tell you."

"He's a brutal, unpredictable, but intelligent kingpin operating out of the dense jungles of the south. He built his power base in the usual ways - drug-running, smuggling, intimidation rackets - but lately he's expanded considerably into illegal mining activity."

"That's all correct. There's a lot of untapped resources in this part of the world, and plenty of people in richer countries who don't care where their gold comes from. This could easily become a cornerstone of criminal activity in the region in the new millennium."

"All the more reason to make an example of this perp."

Ramírez laughed, but it was sharp. Hollow. "Certainly."

Carmelita didn't like the weariness she heard beneath his laughter. It felt too much like an admission of defeat. But this was his case, and she was committed to following his example. For now, at least.

He led her out to what could notionally be called an airstrip, given it was a small stretch of open dirt with a dusty black helicopter on it. An eclectic collection of animals was standing around it, waiting for them to draw close.

"Constable Carmelita Montoya Fox, of the European Interpol office," said Ramírez, loudly enough that she realised she had just been efficiently introduced, "meet the team."

Four pairs of eyes were watching her, sizing her up. She always hated moments like this. She knew how to project herself around criminals, and civilians - cold, hard, certain, steely. Those are important qualities to project when dealing with superiors, too, and anyone else who might doubt her. Considering what police stations were generally like, she was already used to compensating for her gender, age, species, ethnicity, or some combination thereof.

But these officers were clearly at ease with each other. That almost felt like a worse challenge, perversely.

"'Carmelita Montoya'?" echoed the shortest one, a lizard with black and gold stripes. "Feh! I see why they picked her to ship off to here! I assume you can keep up with the local Spanish, huh chica? "

"That's Miguel," said Ramírez. "I know he doesn't look it-"

"Eh, bite me!"

"-but he's the toughest of all of us. Intel suggests that El Diablo is currently working with at least two lieutenants and two to three dozen hired thugs, so we might need crowd control if things go wrong. If they do, there's no-one better."

"Damn right!"

"That intel," added Ramírez, "came from Edixon there. That's how we know we can trust it."

He indicated a giant otter standing in the back of the group, hunching his shoulders in a way that looked awkward, but habitual. He adjusted the thick, often-repaired spectacles he was wearing and gave Carmelita a nod.

"Getting us to the mine will be our pilot, Hugo…"

"Great to meet ya, Miss Interpol!" A black vulture, standing protectively near the cockpit, shot her a grin. "Looking forward to seeing what you can do!"

"And lastly, of course, we have Rosa."

The one remaining officer was a crocodile with a notably thin snout - the Orinoco subspecies, meaning she was indisputably a local. She towered over the rest, but her smile was both gentle and nervous. "Hi! It's great to have another girl with us!"

"Uh. Nice to meet you all."

That didn't sound exactly right, but Carmelita had no idea what would. She focused on putting one foot ahead of the other, so to speak.

"Weren't there supposed to be six of you?"

"Francisco," confirmed Ramírez. "He's our bird on the inside. He's managed to infiltrate El Diablo's operation and give us a fighting chance of cornering him. Unless there's a change in plans, we'll be meeting him at the mine."

"Understood. Will El Diablo be there as well?"

"That's what he tells us. We're going to drop into the primary mine unannounced. Judging from what we've already learned, it should be easy to prove that the whole thing is in violation of both regional and international safety laws. Today's our chance to directly link all of that to the monster we've been chasing."

Carmelita's eye was caught by movement - Rosa had a camera around her neck, which she was waving around with a smile.

"Any final questions, Constable?"

"Just one, Primer Inspector."

"Please," he said. "As you may have noticed, we tend to go by names, not rank. You can call me Ramírez if you'd like."

Carmelita didn't fail to notice the look Miguel shot behind his commander's back to Hugo, who returned an even wider grin in response. Presumably some unspoken joke about her calling him José in the right circumstances. Carmelita was a professional, despite the conclusions others may have often jumped to, and was harbouring no such thoughts about the dark, quietly intense fox in front of her.

"I am once again asking if I should be jealous."

"And I'm telling you, again, to hush."

"One thing that's obvious about El Diablo, even to someone like me who has only read the reports, is his brutality. He's responsible for the deaths of a sickening number of people, whether they're rivals, innocent civilians… or law enforcement."

Miguel barked out another laugh. "Don't tell me you're scared, little girl?"

She met him with a vicious glare. "I can handle myself just fine. It's the rest of you I'm worried about. Assuming your informant links in with us, that's still just seven officers against roughly thirty armed and dangerous criminals. Is that really going to be enough to handle someone of El Diablo's stature?"

Miguel looked like he was going to make another comment - but, at a gesture from Ramírez, he dutifully went quiet.

She noticed that all of them followed his lead like that. That aura of calm competence she had noticed as soon as she saw him must have been why… Or, perhaps, knowing that his team was behind him was what gave him such confidence in the first place.

"You make a good point, Constable. But this isn't going to be a full raid on his compound. Our mission today is to conclusively tie El Diablo to a provably illegal mine. From there, we have to trust that the gears of justice will turn. That's never a guarantee, especially here, so I'd be grateful for Interpol's continuing support."

Part of her remained unconvinced, but it was a part of her that was extremely difficult for anyone to budge. For the most part, that had been a good answer. She nodded. "Alright, then. I'll be happy to assist however I can."

"Thank you. I'm sure my team and I have this handled, but I'm glad you're here, too."

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Ramírez seemed to pause there for a moment. Something unknowable passed through those dark eyes. Whether it was just a momentary lapse of thought, or something he wanted to say left unspoken, she had no idea.

It came and went in an instant. Ramírez turned on his heel, voice sharp and focused. "Alright, no more wasting time! Everyone in the helicopter. Hugo, get those rotors moving."

"On it. I'll try to keep things smooth for our guest, too…"

Guest, indeed. Seeing the team fall so quickly into practised movement, despite their disparate sizes, reminded Carmelita that she was an outsider here. She did her best to stay out of the way of their flurry of motion, quickly nabbing one of the seats on the helicopter and neatly folding herself into it.

It was a little hard not to feel like luggage.

She pushed aside those thoughts. She was here to prove her competence, and more importantly, to help a local team solve a serious problem. This was the goal of an organisation like Interpol, when it operated at its best: to bring together talent from many places, and provide leverage where it was needed. She just had to play her role in that to the best of her ability. Ramírez and his team would get their arrest, El Diablo and his minions would face justice, the people of Venezuela would be safer. Compared to all that, her career progression was secondary… though also on the cards.

Sitting in Hugo's helicopter, her eyes taking in the others, it all seemed so simple. Even the lurch in her stomach as they jerkily took to the air didn't dent her confidence. The stakes were high, but this would be a productive, straightforward assignment.

"…It wasn't, was it?"

"I'm afraid I'm only getting started."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Sly is clearly comfortable, and his eyes are still warm. "Please, take your time. I want to hear everything."

"Well… If you say so."