Prologue: The Pointdexter's Promise

Knock-knock-knock.

Uh oh. That can't be good.

An innocent sound like that shouldn't make my heart leap into my throat. It's far too late. At this hour, it's strictly either the law or the lawless. And it's not like Murray and I are expecting another criminal to come knocking right now.

There can only be one other soul who'd be visiting at this time, and the thought's starting to make my asthma act up.

Okay, Bentley. You have seconds to answer the door, pretend you're clueless, and not act like a criminal who knows more than what's good for him.

I sigh. For my family, I'll always be a man of my word. But this situation isn't favorable for me. In fact, it's astronomically bad. And it's a Monday.

I crack the door. Visually it's hard to tell who this is bundled up in a huge winter coat, hood pulled down, with their face concealed in a tangle of scarves. Their voice is faint in an attempt to not draw attention. "Hi, Bentley."

Oh, no. It's Carmelita.

Regardless of what I've said prior, I have been half-expecting her for awhile. Expecting, but also secretly hoping she wouldn't take the invitation. You may ask, why, Bentley, and you'd sent her the location of your most recent safehouse?

Well with the former tragedy of Sly being lost in space-time, we wanted to provide Carmelita with some sort of outlet, though only if she took the opportunity. Murray and I would've been the only ones to truly understand what she'd gone through, after all. We thought it'd be better than nothing.

Yes, that idea of ours is 100% illogical and risky. And while Murray's more open about it, I'm allowed to have conflicting emotions. I just hadn't expected her to visit tonight of all nights. Timing is everything.

And…there's some things you happen to find out before people want you to.

Hence, me pretending not to know why Carmelita is unusually nervous. Then again she is an Interpol officer who's been in willing contact with criminals. Just don't remind her.

"…ah, Bentley? Are you going to just stand there?" Carmelita realizes what she's said and cringes, "I mean, not stand, but…"

I open the door all the way. "It's nothing. You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard it already."

The safehouse isn't pretty, but it is presentable. I'd have everything immaculate if I didn't live with a bull in a china shop, figuratively speaking. Carmelita pulls back her hood, frowning as she scans around for something. I have a feeling she isn't judging the peeling wallpaper or the rickety furniture.

I nervously fidget with my hands. "S-So, I was beginning to think you wouldn't accept the invitation," I say quickly. "You know, I thought maybe you'd be too busy with work."

Carmelita answers plainly, still casing the room. "I haven't been busy. Not how I want to be."

Even knowing what I did and why she'd answered that, I still almost fall out of my wheelchair. Carmelita, admitting she wasn't busy?

"Nothing much to…do, eh?" I try. She suddenly looks over her shoulder and I jump, lowering my hands. "Uh, you, I…"

Carmelita really is unlike herself. She sits on the battered couch, now looking distracted. "Yeah," she answers, melancholy. "Where's Murray?"

"In the back. He's gaming."

"Do you mind getting him for me?"

There's no point in dragging this on. I watch Carmelita out the corner of my eye as I wheel past. She might not be here to arrest us, but the reality of casually having a cop in our living room is throwing me off.

When I summon Murray from his hours-long binge of food and entertainment then explain the situation, he lights up like the Hollywood Sign.

"Oh, so she's here now?" he asks excitedly, trying to move past. I shush him, blocking the door frame with my mechanical arms.

"Easy, Murray, take it slow." I whisper. "We're supposed to be playing dumb, remember?"

"I'm good at that, Bentley. Shouldn't you have trouble playing dumb since you're the smart one?"

"Ah…I…ah…"

Well, technically he's right?

Murray's been excited and it's been driving me crazy. I hope he doesn't say anything incriminating—contextually, not legally.

He's left me behind and is already making his move. "Hey, Carmelita, it's been a while! This is kinda crazy. You're really not here to arrest us, are you?"

Silence. I zoom back into the living room. Murray's wearing a bright smile as Carmelita stares him down in annoyance. What'd I say about reminding her how illegal her actions are now?

"Murray…no, I'm not here to do that. This is loco," she admits.

"What is it? Do you have something to say?" Murray gushes. "Ooh, can we get you anything?"

"No, no, it's okay. Thanks. I can't be here for long, anyway."

Carmelita goes back to looking around, like she's trying to find something else to distract herself with. "Well, I have to say…something surprising, maybe. I decided to tell you guys even though technically I'm not supposed to be here."

"Huh? Why?" Murray asks blindly.

I sigh to myself, lightly shaking my head. I'm unsure how he forgets she's a cop sometimes. Carmelita's darting her eyes. I'm secretly impressed and grateful she took the risk to come see us, even if it is for a momentous reason.

"Other than my Chief, you two are the only ones to hear it directly from me, but..." Carmelita throws her hands up in a flourish and finally admits, "I'm pregnant."

Keep the act up, Bentley. "Well! I never—" I begin, as Murray lunges and hefts her up in a hug.

"That's awesome! I almost can't believe it!" he yells. "Carmelita, could I be the godfather of your child?!"

"Murray, be careful," I caution. Carmelita manages to awkwardly put her arms around his neck.

"Uh…maybe," she answers.

Murray pulls back, putting his hands together. "Oh, pleeease?"

"Murray, remember you're a criminal? It'll be a bit hard for that to work out, don't you think?"

"What if I wear a disguise? Oh, yeah! I could be the godmother and Bentley could be the godfather!"

Carmelita glances at me. I put on a wide smile.

"…well, how about we think about that a little later?" I chirp, rolling over and extending my hand. "Congratulations, Carmelita! I mean…wow! I don't even know what to think. It's great you let us know."

She slowly takes my hand, studying me. Oh, no. I over-acted, didn't I?

"Well...you know I wouldn't have made the effort to tell you if Sly wasn't the papi," Carmelita answers. Rage suddenly explodes in her eyes and she pulls her muzzle into a vengeful snarl. I back off so fast that I don't even remember moving.

"Even though it's stupid anyone would think some other man was the father," Carmelita snaps, writhing her tail.

"Yeah, that's pretty dumb. Who'd think that?" asks Murray. "Some other Interpol officers?"

"Ugh, yeah, I heard rumors. I'm beginning to think Chief thinks the same way…well—no. I think he believes Cooper ran off as some deadbeat dad."

"Ah. That's unfortunate." I drone. Even though Sly isn't that kind of man I can understand why Chief Barkley would interpret things that way.

"Whatever. They can talk about what they want," Carmelita says. "I just wish Sly were here. He would be so happy."

I firmly keep my mouth shut. Please Murray, don't do us in.

"I was kinda wondering something. How're they talking about him there?" asks Murray carefully. "Did they ever figure out he was, ya know, faking it?"

Carmelita sags, looking pained. "...no. I've been coming up with excuses and lies to cover for him," she answers, surprising us both. "But I don't know how long I can keep doing it. It's wrong. But I can't bring myself to say the truth. Not while he's still gone."

She snarls, baring her teeth. "And I WON'T go through it alone! If the truth were ever to come out, Sly will be there with me. We both have something to be guilty of and I won't be taking the wrap by myself."

I adjust my glasses carefully. "Okay. I can understand that, Carmelita. I'm surprised you held out this long. You sure there's nothing we can do?"

"Do about what, Bentley? Keep lying in the face of the law?"

She sinks back, covering her face with her hands. Murray looks disappointed and sad. It's probably sunk in how unrealistic it is for him to be a godfather to her child. Erm, godmother.

I feel sad too, admittedly. It's a mess, but she's right. The foundation of her and Sly's relationship sits on a dangerous network of lies. They had to untangle their problems together and it most likely won't end well. Mostly for her, really.

"Well, in spite of all that, I wanna do something to help, Carmelita," Murray said, scratching his head. "I don't want you feeling lonely or like you don't have any support."

She doesn't budge or say anything. It's hard to comfort someone in her position without sounding naïve, or…if I were to try, superficial. There's other ways of showing support, though.

"Want a cup of tea, Carmelita?" I ask, wheeling around. "Just for the road home. Does peppermint sound good?"

She doesn't uncover her face but nods.

Then as I'm rolling towards the kitchen, humming to myself, Murray speaks up.

"Maybe it won't be so bad when Sly comes back, Carmelita. He told us it wouldn't take him too long."

I freeze, paling from head to toe. Danger levels have suddenly gone from nonexistent to lethal.

"…what?" Carmelita asks, still talking from behind her hands.

"Yeah! He said so. He was in a big rush when he left earlier."

I turn, shaking and horrified. Murray already forgot. Truly, honestly, forgot. I can hear it in his voice. Carmelita lowers her hands, staring at him in disbelief.

"…what?" she snaps. "What do you mean earlier, when's the last time you talked to him?"

"Maybe this morning. Or no, it was last night. It was last night, right Bentley?"

After a few seconds Carmelita swivels her head to me, looking completely blank.

Well, then.

Like I said before, I'll do my part and keep certain promises. Also, the option to run and not look back isn't feasible right now.

So, I'm cooked. I always knew I'd die a martyr's death.