Chapter 1: Don't Do As The Romans Do

"Gotcha!" I scream, spinning into a kick and hitting absolutely nothing but air.

This bastard catches me before I hit the floor. "Careful. I wouldn't want you to ruin your hair. It looks like it takes quite a while to perfect."

"Get off me," I snap, breaking away. "You did this, didn't you?"

I catch some sort of sweeping movement behind this shadow figure. He's waving a large, bushy tail, and his tan eyes are glowing in the dark.

"Answer me. And what moron stays at the scene of the crime?" I snarl.

"You might want to keep your voice down." He makes a point to dial his whisper down even lower somehow, and then appears to hold a finger up to his ear. "I don't think we're the only ones out on a nightly stroll."

I draw my shock pistol. He stops moving his tail and goes still.

"I'll ask you one more time before I absolutely lose my shit," I hiss. "WHERE is the mosaic's ruby?"

"I don't have it."

"Then where is it?"

"I don't know."

"So you're saying you didn't steal it and have no idea who did?"

"Yep."

I can hear the smile in his voice and want to strangle him. "Explain to me why you're loitering around the area, then?" I ask icily, trying to trip him up over his lies.

"Probably for the same reason you are. Looks like we've got similar tastes. If I'd known you were here, I would've been slower getting into position. Even then we both would've still been beat."

Was he calling me slow? I'm not some thug who goes around shooting people who diss me, but if I didn't want to do that now!

"You're not a police officer," he decides.

"Congratulations. Do you want a diploma?" I ask, finally piecing together his most distinct features. I think this bastard is a raccoon, going by his general shape and how his tail seems to be ring-patterned. He's at a slant, resting his weight on something long and thin. Was it a rifle? No, wait. I can catch a glint coming off of it…something gold? A stick? A baton? Or—

Wait.

Oh my God. Oh, my God.

"…what is that?" I ask wearily.

"Pardon?"

I gesture in the general direction of the thing he's leaning on. "That! What is that?"

"My arm."

I swear I'm going to kill him. "What you're leaning on, bozo."

"Oh, that?" His grin twinkles in the dark. "It's my family cane."

Murder me now.

Of all the times and places I had to run into this bastard Sly Cooper here? This sure as hell means that everything he's said has to be a lie.

"Ah ha," I exclaim, gripping my shock pistol tighter. "You just ratted yourself out. You want me to believe you didn't steal a single thing here? I know who you are, Cooper. You might be new blood, but don't you realize how fast your name traveled through the network?"

"What kind of network are we talking about? Good or bad?"

"Well, it'd be more than one. How about all of them? From the crap I've heard, someone like you has to be on the radar of the International Police already."

Wait. That sounded like a compliment. He takes it as one, judging by how he bows his head and adjusts his cap to avoid answering. I'd never thought I'd meet the kid, but I'd had a sore spot concerning him and his gang. I was jealous at how quickly they'd become known worldwide. They gained infamy and fame at the same time! And if the rumors were true the ringtail is notoriously young, but still successful, for an international criminal. Who builds a rap sheet the length of the Amazon River before they've even graduated high school?

"We've been thinking that someone may've had a faster tip line," he says, clearly trying to steer the subject. "Or maybe someone with inside information could've pulled the quickest magic trick in history."

"Who's we? Your pals are here too? I bet you have some sort of fancy communication line going with 'em, huh?"

"Uh huh. And I'm sure you've spotted them and just didn't realize it. We specialize at being hidden in plain sight. Uh." Cooper tilts his head in reconsideration. "Well, at least two of us are."

"Okay, enough of this. You have the ruby and you're trying to spit game."

"You're half-right on that, yes."

"I'm not leaving until I get it."

"What are you going to do, search me?"

Oh hell. Yes.

What? I have his permission! You see it's in writing.

"Fine," I reply evenly. "We can play cops and robbers. How old are you?"

"Almost eighteen. You?"

"I'm—twenty. Don't go telling anyone else, either."

"I like keeping secrets. Care to give me another one?"

"What's it to you?"

"I just want to...verify the name of such a pretty thief."

Sly Cooper…wanted to know MY name? No other criminal has ever asked me that before. That makes me feel important. That makes me feel…

…oh, no. I can't fall for this. Come on, Carmelita. You can do this.

I can't trust him. I can't. He could easily namedrop me somewhere, then it'd all go to shit and my whole family would be disgraced and no, no, no. This ends now.

"…I can't tell you that," I struggle to admit.

He stands there and waits.

"If I did, I would have to kill you."

He still waits.

"Like, I'm serious."

Still waiting.

"I mean it, ringtail."

"How would you do it?"

"I-I-I—"

"I saw you earlier," he says suddenly, leaning off his cane.

"So?"

That's it. That's all I had.

"It's just, well, something about you caught my attention," Cooper says. "It was the way you looked at your surroundings and studied things. You weren't just appreciating all the historical artistry...you were trying to figure out how to liberate some of it."

"As if I'd care about most of this grubby stuff," I lie; along with the ruby I had been thinking about swiping a few other things, but decided not to in the end. "You think you know me just from watching me?"

"Of course not. I'm just someone who likes to observe."

We're now less than three feet apart. I honestly have no idea if he moved closer to me or if I moved closer to him.

He hands something to me. All of my fur stands on end like I'd been hit with my own shock pistol. It's an ID card. My fake ID card, since I'd been posing as a college student earlier.

"You jackass!" I snap, retreating. "I was looking for this! You stole it off me?"

"Nah, you dropped it."

"You know exactly who I am!"

"Ahhh see, that's a big no-no," he says, swaying his tail. "Don't tell me you used your real name for your disguise?"

Oh. No, I hadn't used an alias. I'd been so excited that the thought hadn't crossed my mind.

"Uggh, okay! Yes, I did. That was stupid," I admit heatedly. "There! Is that enough to get you off my back?"

Then again I like the sound of him being on my back, once he was of legal age of course. Wait a minute, what am I thinking?

"Someone's coming," Cooper says.

Though I wonder, doesn't legal age of consent change by country and/or state? So if he was American, it'd also depend which state he was born in or currently was a resident of. How would that change if he's currently in Europe now?

"Hmm," I ponder out loud.

"Got any ideas?" asks Cooper, glancing towards the mosaic. "It's been fun getting to know you, but I wanted to figure out who outfoxed us. Want to help me run an investigation?"

Ah! Maybe he was right. It'd take a fox to outwit another fox. That's what my Papi always said. I still think Cooper's trying to be funny.

"Uh, no," I say, annoyed. "I'm not some pig who needs slop that badly. I work alone."

He chuckles. "Sounds like you don't know how to have a little more fun."

"You—" I shove my nose into his, furious. "I SWEAR I'm gonna—"

One of his ears swivels around. I shut up and listen. Footsteps, far in the distance. Someone's coming! Wait, didn't he say that earlier? Ugh! His little friends must be giving him live updates! Lucky bastard.

Not that…I was wishing I had loyal partners.

Forget him! I quickly post up on a nearby display, making sure I still have a good view of the mosaic chamber. Alright, so maybe I jumped to conclusions and the ringtail wasn't the dimwit returning to the scene of the crime. I still don't trust him.

In fact, I also don't see him. Where the hell did he go that fast?

His voice whispers from my right. "Mind if I slip in here?"

"You ask after you're in position?!"

"I asked after you noticed."

"Cooper, I swear to God, you better not try anything funny."

I ignore him and focus on whoever's coming. A shape comes down into view, eventually passing through a thin beam of moonlight. I recognize him immediately from the newspaper reports. There's no mistaking that it was Westley Rushire, the Director of Arts. He was a Whippet dog and currently supposed to be institutionalized. We duck lower as he gets closer and rounds into the chamber.

Then he just stops, staring up at the mosaic. I can't tell if he's noticed that the ruby is gone. But he's spaced out and isn't moving an inch.

"…huh?" Cooper mutters in confusion. He's holding a finger to his ear, looking down the hall where the Director had come from.

"What?" I whisper, glancing down at Rushire.

"…someone else is coming, but…my partner isn't sure who it is."

Oh, what now?

Soon we see another figure come into view. They're moving slightly hunched over and moving in an awkward, loping sort of way like they were trying (and failing) to avoid detection. To my shock when he passes through the same beam of moonlight, he looks to be Westley Rushire, too!

The second dog slips into the chamber with the first. They really do have the same height, same build, and really, the only thing making them distinct was that the first was in street clothes and the second was in a white medical gown.

"Wesson!" the second Whippet whispers. "What's going on? You've done it? The deal's set?"

The first Whippet doesn't budge to acknowledge his doppelganger. "Mhm."

"Well, it's still here! Where're your running men?"

"On the way. Have you been playing your part, Dad? We don't need the hospital suspecting your real intents."

"Yes, oh, that was no bother. You haven't realized where you've gotten your acting talent from? And there's a fellow over at the hospital who's in on this, too. I had to promise him a slight cut from our bidders, but compared to what we'll get, it'll be like losing a drop in the bucket."

"I don't think so."

"Fine then, you'll go over that with him when the time comes. He doesn't even know you exist. Then again, most people don't!" He laughs insufferably, hitting his son on the shoulder.

"…I never was good enough to even be mentioned to others, was I?" Wesson's voice turns darker. "Not even now. Then again, that'd defeat the purpose of me being here, acting as your ghost while you go unsuspected."

"You say that, yet at the same time you wanted us to meet here! What's the purpose behind that?"

Oh, unreal. This asshole Director of Arts purposely got himself put in a mental hospital while his son Wesson stole the mosaic. Then they'd sell it to the highest bidder, but this is stupid! Why'd he chose his son and not some random asshole who didn't look like him? This could be a "blood is thicker than water" scenario, but I'm not getting the feeling his son is too crazy about this whole plan.

I guess if no one knew he had a son (which, by the way, that sounds like a huge personal issue between them), then this could have its merits. After all, the Director couldn't be in two places at once. Even if his son failed and got caught, he'd still take the fall for his father anyway.

These literal sons of a bitches! I get ready to jump down there and bust the both of them. Then the younger Rushire pulls something from his pocket. The older quickly glances at the mosaic.

"Wesson, why's the ruby been removed?!" The Director snaps, forgetting to keep his voice down. "It isn't damaged, is it? Wait—and you cut—"

"I'm going to be selling it separately."

"When did I say you could do that? Now the mosaic's value is going to go into the shitter," the Director snarls. "What the hell? Don't you ever think further past what you want in the moment?"

"Trust me, I did this time. Do you like surprises?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I try to get a look at the ruby before Wesson slips it back into his pocket, but can't. He then pulls out a cellphone. The Director folds his arms, impatiently watching his son dial a number.

"Yes, is this the emergency line?" Wesson asks, changing his tone and pitching his voice higher. A shiver runs up my spine. He sounds JUST like his father now. "I'd like to make a report. Someone's gone and hurt themselves."

He puts the phone on speaker. "Okay, sir. Can you please tell me your name and location?" the first responder asks.

"My name is Westley Rushire. I've escaped from the mental institution and I'm now at the Art Museum. I've found a body."

"A body?"

"That's right."

"Is it, well, is it the person you saw hurt themselves?"

"No. I can tell you whose it is, though."

"Okay, whose body is it?"

"It's mine." Wesson says simply. He calmly drops the call, tosses the phone to the floor, and then draws a pistol, pointing it towards his father.

"Wesson," the Director's voice breaks. "What are you—"

"Shut up."

As far away as I am, I can feel the coldness emanating from the younger Rushire. It's such a dark and scary energy.

"Run," Wesson says coolly. His father turns and the gun goes off, striking him square in the temple. Westley collapses to the floor.

Wesson stands over his father's body for a moment. I get the feeling he wants to kick it, stomp it, just mangle it. After a few moments he spits on the body then drops the gun by his father's hand.

Then he runs. That son of a bitch runs, flying down the hall so fast that I blink and he's gone. I'm still in so much shock that the only thing I can do is look at Cooper. He looks just as taken aback.

The both of us get down. I'm sure we both have that silent agreement that the Director is gone. Sure enough, there's no pulse when I put my fingers to his neck.

"We need to get out of here. Nearest police station is just a few blocks away," Cooper says. I already knew that but there's no time to be petty. I start climbing to get back to my entry point.

"Carmelita!"

I stop short and shoot a look down at him.

"I'm taking the ground route. Need help playing dog catcher?" he asks.

"I don't need help, but you can try," I taunt, jumping up to make my exit.

I realistically don't know why I'm chasing some asshole that can run faster than a race horse. And then, when I drop off the roof, it's just into time for two security guards to arrive.

"Hey! You—ARGHHH!" The first screams and collapses into spasms when I shoot him with my shock pistol. The second guard tries running away. I don't like attacking from the front and he's a sloth, so I cut him off and shoot him in the leg. He falls to the ground howling.

"You bozos are sloooow," I poke.

Now what direction did that Whippet bastard head in? And now I'm seeing half a dozen flashlights bobbing closer as more guards charge over here. There's sirens blaring in the distance. Okay, this was getting worse fast.

I climb back up to the top of the building and stay low as I travel along the roof. The enforcers would be distracted with the vandalism of the mosaic and Director's body, but I still don't have a lot of time to make tracks.

"What was that?" a guard notes, seeing my tail flick across an awning. I throw my voice and screech loudly. He and his partner almost shit themselves and face away from me, completely fooled as I continue to make my escape.

Then as I'm creeping through the west side I catch a flash of movement out the corner of my eye. Someone's lurking down below.

I pull my night-goggles out of my hair and train them on the target. To my surprise it isn't Cooper stalking me again. It's the bastard I was looking for. He should've been gone, but for some reason he's doubling back and watching the first responders arrive. What was he trying to do, see the aftermath of what he'd done? Some criminals do that, the freaks.

I almost scare the shit out of myself when I zoom into his face. He's leering like a maniac. Crazy or not he had something I wanted, and I was going to get it! The hairs on my neck stand up.

"Eee!" I squeal out through my teeth. Cooper needed to stop doing this shit. I whirl on him, glaring at him in warning to stay quiet. If his dumbass got me busted, I was going to murder—oh.

Oh, damn.

Now that I've got a better look at him, hot damn. I have a feeling the smirk he wears is a perpetual one and it grows when I start stammering like a moron.

"—I, I don't want to hear a single word," I hiss lowly. "Not unless it's productive."

"I'm guessing he's down there? My pals didn't see him exit the property."

I sigh and hand my goggles to him. He leans over and sizes up our target, impressed.

"I saw him first," I remind him. "I get to bust him. Not you."

"Are you sure you're not a cop?" he teases, grinning at me. "You sure are sounding like one."

"That's 'cause I grew up around them."

"Ahhh, and yet here we are. That's quite unique."

"Not really. I've got the free will to make my own choices," I say flatly. "And what did I say about making productive talk only?"

"I'm just gathering information. Isn't that produc—tkkkkk!"

He seizes up. My night-goggles spill of his hand and he begins to tip forward. I quickly grab him, yanking him back before he plummets several yards onto the pavement. There's a dart in his neck. Looks like he's been shot with a stun gun and can't move anything but his eyes. Ha!

I whip around, bringing up my shock pistol. The patricide criminal has joined us on the roof.

"Oh! Hello yourself, Miss Quick-Draw McGraw," he says, tucking his stun gun into his waistband. "I didn't catch you up here. In fact, I don't even recognize you. Him, I do. Who're you, some new talent from the nearest street corner?"

"Idiot. You just haven't gotten the memo yet," I snap. "Where's the ruby, where is it?!"

"Mm, well maybe I've stashed it somewhere already so I could go back and grab it later, or I've already handed it off to the right person. I move so fast I forget things that've just happened," he answers casually. "So, you want to waste time trying to figure it out or do you want to get out while it's still good?"

"Mind games won't work on me. And I'm very patient."

"Don't overwork yourself. Hey—!" he exclaims, looking behind me. I spare a glance over my shoulder. When I look back he's already pointing another gun towards Cooper.

"Oooh, so sorry. You might not be as clever as you think," Wesson simpers. "Oldest trick in the book and you fell for it. Now, I honestly don't know what firearm I'm holding. It could be my stun gun or one of the others. So tell me what you want—either I shoot him, or I shoot you. You feeling lucky?"

I raise my shock pistol slightly to cover my face more. He never expects my voice to come from somewhere behind him. He falls for it, turning and firing out of reflex. I rare up on him and kick him as hard as I can, knocking the gun from his hand.

"Agh, you bitch!" he snaps, catching himself before he rolls off the roof.

"That's what happens when you try to outfox a fox," I retort.

"Yeah, but what happens if I try to outrun a slow pig like you?"

I fire three times and he evades all shots as he vaults over the edge of the roof. Damn him for being so skinny!

"UGH!" I stomp a foot, then go make sure Cooper is alright. "Are you okay?"

"Carmelita…chase him…there's only one open exit from here," he struggles. "You'll…catch him…hurry!"

I turn and hurry off. I guess I can believe him.

Wesson is waiting for me at the fountain. He's covered his face with a hood by now. The police haven't made their way to this side of the museum, so he had a straight shot out those gates. When I get within several meters he suddenly charges off. I chase him, running as fast as possible.

I can admit defeat. I'm not catching this asshole. I'd need a car or a thoroughbred! He shoots through the gates—

CRASH!

…right into the side of a huge passenger van that'd pulled up at the last moment. Ouch. It'd sounded like he'd broken half the bones in his body.

Elated, I catch up and pull the ruby off his unconscious body. Then this big ass hippo materializes out of nowhere.

"Yes! We got'im, Bent—huh!? You're not Sly!" he cries.

"What the hell are you doing in a security guard outfit?" I demand, backing away.

A turtle sticks his head out the van's passenger window. Oh yeah, I'd seen him earlier. These dummies like their disguises too, huh?

"Uh, excuse me ma'am? You mind handing that piece over?" he asks in the most nasally voice ever. "I've already had three asthma attacks within the past hour because of this whole mess."

"Come get it!" I challenge, jumping and landing on the walls of the museum. The turtle leans out, shaking a fist. "Darn you!" he yells. "If I'd had my crossbow made, I'd, I'd…!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever nerd! Don't be mad 'cause you made my job easier!"

A pink hand comes up over the wall. The hippo was climbing to get me. I bail, crossing back over the rooftops. Seconds later he cries, "Hey, wait!"

I'm surprised to look back and see he's already up here chasing me. What the hell? That big fella can move!

"Get back here, lady!" he yells, huffing. "Can ya at least tell us where Sly is?"

"Are you loco?!" I yell back. "Stop making a fuss before they get onto us!"

"I'm not backing off until you tell us where our buddy is!"

I'm actually scared as shit right now. You haven't felt fear until you've got a hippo charging after you. I make it back to where Cooper was lying so I could get him off my case, but the ringtail isn't here! I was reaaaally getting sick of his games.

"Ah ha!" the hippo gasps, catching up. "I've got you now…! Please…oh, please don't run anymore."

"I will because I'm done doing you a favor. I can swear I left your dumb raccoon here, but lo and behold, he's missing," I snarl. "He didn't say anything over your communication line?"

"What? Hah…no. Not since…he told us to set up a trap at the front gate twenty minutes ago. Look, can ya at least give me the other half of the ruby so we can leave? I need a few cheeseburgers right now."

"NO. I got my hands on it first."

"Well, I was poised to steal it first," Cooper says from behind me.

"Stop doing that!" I squeal. They had me on both sides and I was going to fight them both to the death. "Yeah, so you got here first! Too bad!"

He leans in closer, looking expectant. I clutch the ruby tight.

"I don't like sharing," I warn. "Besides, what does a bunch of men like you want with a ruby?"

"It's shiny," the hippo says.

"So go into a kitchen and find a shiny spoon!"

All of a sudden, Cooper begins laughing. My heart plummets.

He did something. He totally did something. How? Why? WHEN?!

"What. Happened?" I snarl. It hits me and I take a closer look at the ruby. It's…it's…!

Oh, you're kidding me. With all this bullshit I never noticed until now.

The ruby's been sliced in half. I only had half.

Why the absolute HELL was the son carrying HALF of the ruby?

Cooper looks at me with mellow eyes as pulls out the other piece of the jewel. Just to put it to rest I tentatively put my half to his and they fit together perfectly.

I huff. "Explain. Now."

"It looks like he split it to make transporting it less obvious. But he dropped half of it when he was escaping the building earlier. He must've been running so fast he didn't notice."

"Ugh, what an idiot…"

"Seems like a win to me. I found one half, you got the other. It's fair game, right?"

"I wanted the whole thing!"

"So did I," he says smoothly. I fume at him for a few moments, then drop it. Whatever.

"Whatever!" I say aloud. "Fine."

"You agree that sharing is more memorable?"

"Don't push it, ese."

"Wait, huh? What?" the hippo speaks up. "Share with her? That's weird, Sly."

"I agree," I snap.

"Well then, how about we settle this on a later date?" Cooper says, coming closer. "Let's each hold our half until we can negotiate properly."

"Fine," I agree, glancing around. Everywhere I look there's flashing lights. "There's too many cops here anyway. You won't lose it, will you?"

He shakes his head.

"You won't sell it for a gazillion dollars?"

"Not if it means that much to you, Carmelita."

I'm feeling warm. Like, waaay too warm. And it's in the middle of winter and I've got no coat. I suddenly wish that hippo wasn't there, then I'd…I don't know. Talk more? Then what? Maybe Cooper feels the same way because his eyes dart to his buddy ever so briefly.

"I'll…see you later," he says, brushing by me lightly. His hand slips something into mine and I pretend to not notice. The hippo looks like he's just witnessed a pair of aliens doing the tango.

"C'mon…let's go, Murray," Cooper says. "We gotta hurry and move the van before backup gets to the front gate."

After they leave I look down at the paper that he gave me. I thought it'd be a phone number, but it's a place. Some sort of famous bazaar in Istanbul?

Was that where he and his gang were headed next? I stand there for a moment, lost in the flashing lights of the backup units.

I feel the sudden compulsion to just scream into the night. What the HELL.

This hadn't gone how I expected, but I guess it was better than walking away with nothing. And I hadn't had anything specific planned after this heist.

So, I guess I could take this invitation and see what this Cooper Gang is all about with my own eyes.

...I...guess.