"The Vixen"
Author: Robert Brown
Disclaimer: This story uses characters created and copyrighted by Sucker
Punch, Inc. (except where noted, in which case they were created
and copyrighted by me or by another and I have permission to use
them). The author hereby gives permission for this story to be
downloaded and/or printed at 1 copy per user as long as (1) no
changes to the story are made without my express written(not
e-mailed) permission and (2) no attempt is made to profit from
this story. If either or both rules are violated, it will be
considered a violation of copyright law.
Author's Note: Well, I'm finally breaking down and doing it. After seeing
all the flame wars and back-and-forth garbage going on on fanfiction.net,
I've decided to jump into the fray with both feet. As I've said on my
profile page, I support Sly/Carmelita, and this fic will be focused on that.
If you don't like that pairing, stop reading right now. If you do, then I
hope that this fic will be at least somewhat original and entertaining for
you.
If the idea behind this fic looks familiar, it should. I've
based this fic on an episode of a show I used to watch some time ago. The
specifics have been twisted around and crafted to suit my own purposes, but
I do want to acknowledge that there is a source. So if you figure out what
I'm referring to, then you should know just what I'm up to, but I won't
confirm it until the final chapter. But even if you're right, be prepared
for a number of surprises; I'm not that predictable.
I know Sly 3: Band of Thieves has been released by now, I've
beaten it, in fact. I am not, however, using any of that knowledge here.
Bentley and Murray are both still on the team, though Bentley will be in a
wheelchair. After Clock-La's beak clamped down on him, that's almost
unavoidable. Happy Reading everyone!
Chapter 1: A Look in the Mirror.
Detective Carmelita Montoya Fox sat at her desk, idly toying with the
bottle of wine that she had found returned to her only moments ago. "I'll
find you Cooper," she said for what may have been the tenth time. "And when I
do, I'll throw you in jail myself."
A smile still lingered on her lips, one that Carmelita found herself
both unable and unwilling to get rid of. Part of the reason she was smiling
was because she was picturing quite vividly the day she finally brought Cooper
to ground. The other part was because there was still a chance that it could
happen. The chase would continue.
Though it had been her job, it had been wholly unsatisfying for
Carmelita to capture that Ringtail the way she had. Of all the chances she'd
had to catch him, doing it while his friend was severely injured had left a
bad taste in her mouth. She wanted to beat him at his own game, to outwit and
outthink him. When she slapped the cuffs on him again, it would be because
she had won, not some noble sacrifice on his part to save an injured friend.
Carmelita's smile drooped a little at that thought. Much as she'd like
to deny it, Cooper had a type of honor that she didn't even see in the other
cops at her precinct. He'd saved her life a few times when leaving her would
have allowed him to get away and disappear from anyone's sight. And he was
unwaveringly loyal to his friends, as his sacrifice had proven. If he were
not the thief he was, she might even consider him a friend if not more.
She shook her head angrily at that. Thinking like that was dangerous
at best, treasonous at worst. Sly Cooper was nothing more than a lowlife
criminal that needed to be brought to justice. It was as simple as that. Any
time she even began to think otherwise, all she had to do was remember when he
handcuffed her to the railing in the volcano. If she hadn't found a lockpick
that Cooper had inadvertently dropped, she would've been there for a few days
at the least. Looking at the faint scars on her wrist from where her
handcuffs had bitten into her flesh always brought the anger back in full
force and focus.
It was at this moment that her phone rang, bad timing for whoever was on
the other end. "What?" she snarled, picking up the phone from its cradle.
"Fox!" a harsh voice on the phone barked at her.
The effect of that voice on her anger was akin to throwing a bucket of
ice water on a raging fire. "Ch-Chief!" she stammered, sitting down in her
chair roughly. "I didn't...I mean, I wouldn't--"
"No more of your excuses," the chief barked again and Carmelita had to
hold the handset away from her ear lest she be deafened by it. "I want you in
my office now! Is that understood?"
"Right away Chief!" Carmelita answered only to hear the phone beep as
the chief had already hung up. Grabbing her jacket from the coat rack, she
quickly donned it and nearly ran from her office.
No sooner had she entered the hallway than all conversation within it
stopped. Though she tried to ignore it, Carmelita couldn't help but be
unnerved by the stares she was receiving. Every single pair of eyes on her
held a mixture of pity and some other emotion she couldn't take the time to
analyze. And her bad feeling only grew worse, making her hackles raise a
slight bit, as she stood before the chief's door.
She raised her hand to knock on the door, having to actually force
herself to do it. "I'm waiting," the chief yelled through the door, making
Carmelita jump a bit in surprise. Gathering her courage, she opened the door
and walked inside.
"Detective Fox reporting as requested sir," she said, standing rigidly
at attention.
"Close the door Inspector Fox," the chief said, placing a picture frame
back into his desk and shutting the drawer.
Carmelita could feel her ears and tail droop as she closed the door.
Demoted back to Inspector! How humiliating! And it was all that blasted
Ringtail's fault! She took a deep breath and willed away her nervousness as
she turned back to face the chief. "What is it you wanted Chief?" she asked
in her most business-like voice.
"Sit down Inspector," the chief said, glaring at Carmelita through his
bushy eyebrows as she sat in the simple wooden chair across the desk from him.
Chief Barkley was a rather portly dog, but woe to anyone who took his large
size as a sign of weakness. He still held many of the hand-to-hand fighting
titles in both the academy and Interpol, something he backed up whenever he
was challenged without hesitation. And for those unfortunate enough to think
he was all brawn, he would happily prove that his intellect and cunning were
at least on par with his fighting abilities. In short, this was why he was on
track to be Interpol's longest serving chief in a century. "Now then," Chief
Barkley said in a very calm voice, a very bad thing to those who knew him, "I
would like you to explain to me just how a certain raccoon master thief
managed to slip out of your custody for...what is it now? The fourth time?
Fifth? I've lost count."
"It's not my fault," Carmelita protested before she even knew it.
One of the chief's eyebrows raised at Carmelita's words. "Not your
fault? Just what were you doing that you didn't notice that it was taking
over two hours for a ten minute flight?" Carmelita's cheeks notably pinked at
the chief's unspoken accusations, but she was unable to say exactly why she
hadn't noticed that detail. "It's as I thought then," the chief huffed,
leaning back in his chair until the springs creaked, "you're too emotionally
involved in this case. As of this moment you're off the Cooper case."
Carmelita spluttered for a few seconds in rage before she found her
voice. "You can't do that!" she demanded, standing up and slamming her hands
down on his desk. "I've spent too many years to just hand over this case to
some glory-seeking rookie!"
"And what makes you think I'm assigning this case to a rookie?" Chief
Barkley asked, unaffected by Carmelita's display of temper. "Detective Chemp
will be taking over the case."
"Chemp! How can you send someone like Chemp after Cooper? He shoots
first and doesn't even bother to ask questions later. He's never brought a
criminal in alive in all the time he's been a cop!"
"Which is exactly why I'm assigning Cooper to 'dead or alive' status,"
the chief said, his pen poised to sign the order.
Cold fear, stronger than any she had ever felt before, made her stomach
tighten into a knot that might never come undone. Not even when she'd been
captured by Clockwerk, tortured by the Contessa, or on the run from the very
cops she normally called friend had she been this afraid. But just the
thought of Sly's lifeless body riddled with gunshot wounds was enough to drain
the very strength from her body. "You can't," she said in a broken whisper as
she sank back onto the chair.
Chief Barkley held his pen just a hair's breadth above the paper as he
regarded Carmelita. He'd never known her to be this emotional about anything.
Maybe, just maybe, this would work out after all. "All right Carmelita," he
said, making her look up at him because he very rarely called her by name,
"I'll make you a deal. Give me one good reason, just one, why I shouldn't
reassign this case and I won't. But it better be good because I'm not going
to give you another chance."
"What reason could I possibly give?" Carmelita returned bitterly, not
caring at the moment that she was talking to her chief. "Nothing I say could
possibly matter at this point."
"How about trying the truth?" the chief asked, laying his pen down.
"Not just to me, but to yourself. I want you to tell me your single most
important reason why you don't want to see Sly Cooper dead."
Carmelita's mind was awhirl with reasons. Sly deserved to spend his
life in jail for the crimes he's committed. The good he's done has merited
at least some measure of leniency. She was perfectly capable of taking him
down with more time. He saved her life; there was no way she'd allow anyone
to take his.
The chief saw Carmelita's inner struggle written plainly on her face.
"If you're having a hard time deciding," he said gruffly, opening up one of
the drawers in his desk, "maybe this will help. All you need to do is ask
yourself one question: What excuse would she accept?"
Carmelita looked up in surprise just in time to see the chief toss
something at her. She caught it on instinct, wincing slightly as a sharp edge
bit into her fingers. It was only when she looked down that she realized she
was holding a mirror, her own reflection staring back at her.
Carmelita took a deep breath as she looked into her eyes. It is said
that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and her eyes were no exception.
Gazing into her own chocolate colored orbs, she knew that there was only one
answer that would satisfy her; only one reason that she could give. "You want
the truth sir?" she inquired quietly, her demeanor relaxed and collected as
she looked up at him. "Fine, here's the truth. I...."
TO BE CONTINUED (
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