"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: I know this one took a while, but my best friend and oftentimes
co-author Francis Tolbert had to go in the hospital for what was supposed to
be three days. He was in for three weeks. And he's at home, still recovering
so my time has been tight. I'll try to pick the pace back up. No promises
though. And here's a thank you to my friend Andrea Sapinski for helping me
research all the Spanish curses in this chapter.
Chapter 5: Changing the rules of the Game
Sly punched and kicked the hell out of the heavy bag in front of him,
the padding on his fists and feet only allowing him to hit harder and harder.
His movements were a blur as he pushed himself even harder. Jab. Kick.
One-two combination. Spinning backfist. Punch-grab-knee. His mind was so
totally focused on the bag in front of him that he didn't hear the door open.
Murray watched Sly with mute interest. It had been about a month since
the incident at the docks, and Sly had been training himself non-stop. It was
like he was obsessed with getting back to the top of his form, and maybe
beyond it. The old Sly never used his fists nor his feet offensively, always
relying on his cane to do the damage. And while his strikes weren't strong
enough to damage someone like him, Sly was definitely showing he had what it
took to be a scrappy little fighter.
Murray glanced over to the corner where Sly's cane stood propped against
the wall. As good as Sly was becoming hand-to-hand, he was still that much
better with his cane. He'd gone above and beyond any level Murray had ever
seen him at, including what he'd reached when fighting either Clockwerk or
Clock-La. He'd even managed to reclaim some of his lost thieving skills,
especially the ability to walk invisibly. There were even signs he was
looking to develop his own signature move to add to the Thievius Raccoonus.
Murray sighed as he moved from the doorway into the workout room. It
was obvious why Sly was pushing himself: the Vixen. Sly was always at his
best when he had something to strive for, something that had been missing
since the defeat of Clock-La. And while Murray was against everything the
Vixen did to Sly, he couldn't deny the good that was coming out of it.
"Hey Murray," Sly called, shaking Murray from his thoughts, "are you
going to stand there all day or are you here to work out?"
"Huh?" Murray asked, forgetting where he was for the moment. "Oh, sure
Sly. Just let me know when you're done. 'The Murray' has a little
frustration he needs to work off."
Sly grabbed the towel that Murray was holding and used it to wipe some
sweat from his face. "I'm done now," he said, tossing the towel onto his
shoulder. "Do you know where Bentley is? I need to talk with him."
Murray adjusted his gloves before he answered Sly. "He's downstairs on
his laptop. I think he's talking to one of his Thiefnet buddies. Something
about getting new gear for the next heist."
"Thanks pal," Sly said. He started to leave, but then a sneaky thought
occurred to him, one that he couldn't just let go. He silently crept behind
Murray, who was focusing on the heavy bag, twisting the towel between his
hands. Just when Murray reared back to throw his first punch, Sly whipped
the towel forward, striking Murray right on his unprotected rump. Murray
yelped in surprised pain, jumping off the floor so high Sly thought he might
actually touch the ceiling for a moment.
"SLY!" Murray roared, rounding on his friend only to see the tip of
his striped tail disappearing through the doorway. "That's it!" Murray
muttered, punching the bag so hard he nearly broke the chains holding it in
place. "Any sympathy I felt for Sly is done! Now he deserves exactly what
he's getting!"
Sly chuckled as he pulled up the trapdoor to the hideout's "basement."
After Bentley was forced into his wheelchair, he couldn't get up the stairs to
his old bedroom as often as he wanted. And Bentley had adamantly refused to
leave his computer equipment in the living room where he just knew it would
become everything from clothes racks to food holders. So with a little
planning and ingenuity, and a lot of Murray's brawn, they'd excavated an
underground cave and set Bentley's equipment up where it could be safe from
the horrors of Murray's eating.
"Hey Bentley!" Sly called as he slid down the rampway that they had
installed for Bentley's wheelchair.
"I'm down here Sly," Bentley said, typing furiously away at his laptop.
"Still searching for the equipment needed to pull off some of your trickiest
maneuvers. But don't worry, I haven't given up hope yet."
Sly just shook his head as he came up behind his friend. There were a
lot of things in the Thievius Raccoonus that Sly could not duplicate with the
technology of today. The items needed had to be made both by hand and of rare
materials. Not something easily accessible in a time when everything was
manufactured by machines and as cheaply as possible.
"Keep up the good work," Sly said, clapping Bentley on the shoulder.
"But that wasn't what I came down here to talk to you about. What's our next
heist?"
Bentley stared at Sly's reflection in one of the darkened computer
monitors and smiled. "That eager to try and get ahead of the Vixen are we?"
he asked, his eyebrows arching behind his glasses. "Well, it doesn't matter.
Our next job will be the summer house of one of the most notorious armored car
thieves in this hemisphere."
"Sounds like a good one. So what's the next one?"
"The next one?" Bentley asked, wheeling around to stare at Sly in more
than a little confusion. "Why would you want to know about that one?"
Sly squatted down and smiled as he looked Bentley in the eye. "The
Vixen wants to play games? Let's play games. But I'm changing the rules. If
she knows me as well as she says she does, then she knows where this next
heist is supposed to be. But there's no way she could possibly think that I'd
skip an entire heist just to throw her off. And that's just what I'm going to
do. And we're going to do this job tonight."
"B-but we can't do that!" Bentley sputtered. "You know how much time
and effort goes into planning a job. I can't just switch gears like that."
Sly's eyes glinted in a way that could only be described as evilly. "I
have the utmost faith in you Bentley. You've never let me down before."
Bentley tried to stare Sly down for only a moment before sighing and
turning away. "If we're going to do this I'm going to need absolute quiet
until we leave," Bentley said heavily. "And as much as you hate doing it, I'm
going to need you to do recon for me. It's the only way I can put together
something as grand as I had hoped for your fourth heist on such short notice.
And I'll have to get us some plane tickets."
"Plane tickets?" Sly asked, intrigued.
Bentley nodded, adjusting his glasses as he started typing on his laptop
again. "Indeed. Our fourth, or rather now our third heist will take place in
nearby Spain. A bank has just opened promising high interest savings accounts
and low interest credit to all their customers. But the only reason they can
make good on their promises is because the bank is just a front for a money
laundering operation by a rogue offshoot of the Spanish Mafia."
Sly let out a low whistle as he sat back on his haunches. "Spanish
Mafia? Isn't that a little dangerous? I don't want to bring something like
that down on our heads."
"Give me a little credit here Sly," Bentley said over his shoulder. "I
meant it when I said these guys are rogue. While this operation might be
quite lucrative, it didn't exactly have permission to get started. The lady
in charge is on the outs with her superiors because she might be a threat to
their power."
"So taking her down cuts off a funding source for the darker side of the
crime world and prevents a possibly deadly gang war," Sly said, following
Bentley's reasoning. "And any ill-gotten gains that just happen to disappear
would be best served supporting a much more worthy organization, like the
Happy Campers Orphanage."
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Bentley said, turning back
to his laptop. "Now leave me alone or I'll never be able to do what I need
to." Sly nodded excitedly and ran back up the ramp. There were only a few
hours left until sundown and if they were making this kind of trip he needed
to make sure they were packed.
The hardest thing was convincing Murray to leave his "baby" behind and
get on the plane. Murray would not be swayed; if the van didn't go, he didn't
go. Fortunately, Bentley found a cargo plane that was heading to Madrid that
was big enough to take the van. And since it was operated by one of Bentley's
Thiefnet friends, it was a simple matter to make the arrangements.
The downside was that it took far longer to arrange than Sly would have
liked. Instead of starting the heist that night, they weren't even able to
set up a safehouse until the next afternoon. The delay had him chomping at
the bit, pacing around like a caged animal. When the sun went down that day,
he was out the door before the others even saw him go.
Sly was in the area of the bank before he pulled his vibrating binoc-u-
com off his hip and turned it on. "Yeah Bentley?" he asked, bringing it up
to his eyes. "What's going on?"
"Sly!" Bentley fairly screeched, making Sly wince as the high pitched
sound grated on his ears. "What were you thinking taking off like that? I
haven't even told you what I need you to take pictures of yet."
"So I'll take pictures of everyone and everything I see. Are we even
sure she'll be here tonight?"
"From the records I have, Señorita Rosalita Mofeta doesn't just work in
the bank, she lives in it. Or rather, she runs the bank from her home."
Sly stared at the sturdy marble structure through his binoc-u-com.
"Some home," he quipped.
"Yes well it didn't always look like this," Bentley pointed out. "This
home had been in Ms. Mofeta's family for more than a few generations, and
usually served as a front of some kind or other. But she is the first to
completely change the look of it in this manner. Underneath all that marble
and concrete is still the original house. And therein lies our way in.
"If you'll zoom in on the roof of the building," Bentley continued, "you
can see a trio of doors. One of them leads into the house proper."
"And the other two?" Sly asked, eyeing the red, black, and purple doors
in turn.
Bentley could be heard clearing his throat nervously. "No one who has
ever entered those doors has ever been seen again."
"And you're going to tell me you know which door I enter, right?" Sly
asked hopefully.
"Do you doubt my abilities?" Bentley asked, sounding quite affronted.
"Even with the severe lack of time you've given me, I was able to dig up the
original blueprints for the work done on the house. The correct door is the
red door."
"Makes sense," Sly said after a moment's thought. "Most would be
intruders would avoid the red door. OK, so what should I take pictures of?"
"Well, I don't think we'll be able to get in the same way twice. You'll
have to find an alternate way in. The odds are she has at least one safe of
some kind in her hideout. If you can locate where that might be, taking
pictures of it would help me figure out how to crack it. I'm sure she has
a bunch of security guards patrolling the grounds. Get me a picture of each
type of guard and I can work out the right way to avoid or defeat them."
"Would you like a picture of the curtains and the dinette set as well?"
Bentley frowned at Sly through the binoc-u-com's viewer. "Just go to
work," he said, cutting the connection before Sly could make a comeback.
"Isn't he in a good mood?" Sly muttered with his smirk in place. It
was absolutely no trouble to reach the roof; there was a regulation fire
escape that he was able to clamber up. The lack of guards on the roof worried
him ever so slightly, but not enough to stop him from approaching the door and
opening it. He was surprised that no alarm went off, but chalked it up to
supreme overconfidence.
Sly peered through the dimly lit doorway, his cane at the ready. He was
disappointed to once again find no guards or even traps, just a rather plain
looking spiral staircase leading down into the darkened passage. "It's one
thing to be overconfident," he thought, stepping lightly on the top step to
make sure it wouldn't turn the whole staircase into a sliding ramp, "but it's
something else completely to be reckless. She's almost begging for someone to
come down there and stop her. Far be it for me to--"
Sly never got the chance to finish as he was struck in the back of his
head and sent headfirst through the door. Due solely to his thief relfexes,
he was able to tuck into a ball and roll, not fall, down the lengthy staircase
until he found the bottom. But his momentum didn't stop there, and he carried
through a hidden door into some sort of room, coming to rest seated against a
wall on the opposite side of that room.
It took Sly a few seconds to shake off the dizziness his roll down the
stairs had caused, but when he did he immediately wished he hadn't. The first
thing he noticed when his mind cleared was that the room he had tumbled into
was actually a medium-sized bathroom with all the modern amenities and done
entirely in black tile and white porcelain. The second thing he noticed was
that he was not alone.
Seated in the bathtub, surrounded by bubbles that came up just high
enough to preserve her modesty, was a very beautiful female skunk who was
staring at him with a look of shock that Sly could only imagine was mirrored
on his own face. Her long white hair was pinned up on top of her head to keep
it out of the water and just the barest hint of makeup brightened her black-
furred cheeks. Her lips shone either from a black lipstick or a simple lip
gloss; Sly couldn't tell which. But it wasn't hard to figure out that this
was Señorita Rosalita Mofeta.
As Sly watched, Señorita Mofeta's look slowly changed to something far
less shocked as something far more predatory gleamed in her violet eyes.
"Well well," she said, her voice low and husky as her deep Spanish accent
caused the words to roll off her tongue. "It appears that one of my admirers
has chosen the correct door for a change. I suppose a reward is in order."
Normally, Sly would've said something quite flirty given the situation, but
what happened next caused the words to die before they even reached his
tongue.
Acting as if she did this regularly, Rosalita simply stood up, revealing
her completely nude and quite luscious body to Sly's suddenly wide-eyed stare.
Her fur was nearly flat against her skin; nothing was hidden from his gaze. A
small line of bubbles started from her collarbone to travel between her full
and perky breasts, down her nearly flat stomach, skirting the triangular patch
of white hair between her thighs that stood out sharply against her ebony fur
to trail down one of her long legs to join the one that remained in the tub.
And Sly's eyes followed those bubbles from the beginning of their journey to
the end, unable to look anywhere else.
Rosalita smiled, knowing full well the effect her body had on men. It
had been far too long since she'd slept with a man; all of those she met in
her line of work were simply not interesting to her. Always falling over
themselves to curry her favor or that of her family, they disgusted her. But
this one, the first one in months to pick the correct door, intrigued her from
the moment she laid eyes on him. And with all the sexual frustration that had
been building in her body, she was going to show him a night, morning, and day
that he would never forget.
Sly could only stare at the beautiful skunk as she stepped out of the
tub and started walking toward him with a slow and sensual gait. He tried to
get his body to move, but it refused to follow his orders. "Come on," he
ordered himself as the distance between them gradually lessened, "I have to
use my head. Not that one!" he hissed through gritted teeth as he felt his
body react to her overt sexual advances.
Anyone who was witness to this except his two most trusted friends would
be confused. They would ask themselves, "What is going on here? This isn't
the first gorgeous woman that Sly has interacted with. I bet he's even slept
with the majority of them. What's the deal?" But Bentley and Murray would
know better because they knew one secret that the rest of the world would
never believe: Sly Cooper was a virgin.
That's right. Sly Cooper was still a virgin. Despite all his flirty
chit-chat and complete self assurance when dealing with members of the fairer
sex, the furthest Sly had ever gotten with any female was a gentle kiss on the
lips. And even then, the number of women he had kissed like that could be
counted on one hand. The infamous "Cooper charm" which he could turn on and
off at will was purely instinctive and genetic, handed down from parent
through child throughout the entire Cooper bloodline.
Sly had managed to gather some of his wits together by the time she was
halfway to him, but all his effort went for naught as soon as she dropped to
her hands and knees and began to crawl toward him. He tried valiantly not to
let his eyes lock onto her gently swaying breasts, but it was a losing battle.
He tried to press back against the wall as if he could disappear through the
wall and escape as Rosalita began to crawl up his body.
A soft scent tickled his nose, some mixture of tropical fruits and
spices that only made him more aware of just how close her body was to his.
She paused with her face only an inch from his and Sly nearly let out a sigh
of relief. But when he saw the look in her eyes, the one that said she was
merely savoring the anticipation of the first kiss, he knew that he was in
trouble. And when she lowered her eyelids halfway and puckered her lips as
she tilted her head toward his, he knew that all hope was lost. Her lips
just barely brushed against his, letting him taste her blackberry lip gloss
before she pulled back and looked him in the eyes. Liking what she saw there,
she smirked knowingly and moved in for a longer and far more satisfying kiss.
"What is going on here?"
Sly had never been so happy to hear that French accented voice, even if
it was a little screechy at the moment. He took full advantage of Rosalita's
distraction to slither out from underneath her and scoot away to an adjacent
wall. Rosalita, however, paid this no mind as she twisted to her feet and
turned to glare at the newest intruder to her bathroom. "It is none of your
business what is going on here," she spat at the Vixen, pulling a fluffy pink
bathrobe from a nearby hook and throwing it on. "Leave this place now and
leave us to our business."
The Vixen's lips twisted into a snarl, her teeth baring slightly in her
contempt. "There is one slight problem with that," she said, her white tail
lashing behind her. "You see, that is my raccoon. And his only business is
with me."
Rosalita laughed, the cruel sound making Sly's fur stand on end. "I
think you are quite mistaken," she said, all the sensuality in her voice
replaced by an ice-cold blade's edge. "Trust me, he will enjoy doing business
with me a lot more than with a contemptible puta."
The Vixen's masked eyes widened and then narrowed in anger. "You dare
to call me a puta? I would say it takes one to know one, but that would be
disrespecting putas everywhere, especially coming from una chucha patética."
Sly was taken aback as the Spanish slur that left the Vixen's lips so
easily. The thing that truly surprised him though was the fact that Rosalita
and the Vixen were hurling insults at each other nonstop in Spanish. Sly knew
some rudimentary Spanish, but not enough to understand everything that was
being said. But the tone of their voices and the expressions on their faces
told the story well enough.
After one particularly blistering comment by Rosalita, the Vixen was
seething; her body was literally trembling in anger. "You jodido coño!"
she screamed, snapping her jaws at the skunk before her.
Rosalita gasped and took a step back. No one had ever dared to speak
with her in such a fashion before, and she found it very much not to her
liking. But all the vitriol she had spewed during the arguement had drained
her anger, leaving only a cool and calculated calmness. "I'm tired of playing
these childish games," she said, reaching into a pocket of her bathrobe.
"This ends now."
Sly was moving before he even realized it, his cane coming up to knock
the gun that Rosalita had just drawn out of her hand and into the bathtub.
Both ladies looked at him in shock as if having forgotten that he was even
there. But when Rosalita's eyes fell on the cane Sly held, her lips curled in
distaste. "Sly Cooper," she said, edging her way toward the door. "I should
have known. I don't know what you came here for, but you will not be leaving.
Guards!" she yelled, throwing open the door and running through it.
Sly started to go after her but was forcibly stopped as his arm was
hooked by the Vixen's cane. "What was the big idea?" she demanded, spinning
him around. "I could've handled her without your help."
"Oh really?" Sly asked, not believing her for a moment. "Then would
you mind explaining to me why you didn't notice her drawing a gun? Or was I
just imagining things?"
"I don't need your help!" she yelled, taking a swipe with her cane at
his head, which was easily ducked. "And what the hell was going on here?"
she added, backflipping out of the way of his attack. "Do you take any offer
you get?"
"You think you know so much about me," Sly said, circling the Vixen as
she circled him. "If you really knew me, you would never even ask that
question."
"I thought I did! But then you decided to go and switch heists on me.
I was sure you'd be in the southern hemisphere around now. If I hadn't gotten
a tip about your flight, I would've never figured out that you were switching
up on me."
While they fought, Rosalita ran to her bedroom and slammed the door
behind her. "Come into my house will they?" she muttered as she dressed
herself in what she termed "combat gear," form fitting vest and pants done up
in green camouflage with a thick pair of black boots to complete the outfit.
"I'll show them that no one toys with a Mofeta and escapes unscathed."
With all her clothes in place, she stormed over to her closet and
opened up a secret compartment in the back. The concealed nook was filled
with every single type of handgun, rifle, and shotgun imaginable. With
practiced ease, she methodically chose a number of guns and strapped them to
her body where they could be most easily accessed. When she felt she had
enough, she filled her pockets with various clips and boxes of ammunition.
"Now let's see how they deal with me," she growled, placing a clip of armor
piercing bullets in each of the guns she held and cocking them.
She kicked open her door and charged out into the hallway, fully
expecting to see her guards engaged in a battle to the death against Sly
Cooper and his companion. What she saw instead stopped her in her tracks.
Her elite guard force, a volatile mixture of badgers and wolverines, had
pulled up a bunch of chairs and were just watching as they tried to beat the
Hell out of each other and her house. "¿Qué occurió?" she demanded, pistol
whipping a couple guards in the back of their heads. "Why are you not trying
to stop them?"
"We have tried señorita," the captain of her guards, a middle-aged
badger, protested. "But see? Look at the ones who have tried."
Rosalita looked where the badger pointed and did a double take. No less
than ten of her guards lay strewn about the floor, all quite unconscious.
"But how?"
"It was them," her captain answered. "They may not like each other, but
they like anyone interfering in their business even less. Anytime someone
even tries to, they gang up on him until he's out of the way, and then go back
to fighting each other!"
"No lo creo si no lo veo," Rosalita murmured, her delicate eyebrows
drawing together just slightly. With a heavy sigh, her captain ordered two of
his men to attack. They did so reluctantly and carefully, but it mattered
not. As soon as they were close enough to strike, they were instead struck
repeatedly by both intruders' canes, knocking them out without any trouble.
"Lo creo," Rosalita said with a sigh, sitting down as both Sly and the Vixen
returned to their own fight as fluidly as they had broken from it. "So what
do we do? Just sit here until they're done?"
The captain shrugged and nodded, turning his attention back to the
fight. "It does seem wise, does it not? After all, whichever one wins we can
then swarm and overpower. And besides, it is quite the entertainment, no? We
even have a betting pool going on who will be the one to win."
Rosalita rolled her eyes in exasperation. But he was right; watching
them fight certainly was quite the show. "Put me down for fifty on la zorra,"
she said, crossing her legs at the knee and settling herself back in her
chair.
If Sly and the Vixen were aware they had gained an audience, they didn't
show it in the least. They were way too busy trying to score a hit on each
other while avoiding being hit. So far, Sly had landed a total of three blows
and the Vixen had landed five. But Sly's blows had landed more flushly so
they were in pretty much equal condition.
The house, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. Many pieces of furniture
had been destroyed and a number of items shattered by the numerous blows that
had missed their intended target. Even the walls were being scarred by the
errant blows. But neither of them cared, all their attention focused solely
on the fight.
It was only a matter of time before Rosalita became aware of the
devastation however. "My house!" she screeched, exploding out of the chair
and to her feet. "They have gone too far! Get out of my way," she ordered
her guards, walking over to a safe that had been uncovered when a painting of
her father had been destroyed.
"Señorita, no!" her captain cried, realizing just what was in that
safe. "¡Vámanos!" he yelled to his guards, motioning for them to follow him
as he ran outside, muttering a quick prayer that they could get clear in time.
It took Rosalita an extra moment or two to open the safe because of the
chaos that surrounded her. But once she did, a triumphant smirk showed itself
on her lips. She reached inside and pulled out a small object wrapped in the
finest black silk. Carefully, she unwrapped the item to reveal what appeared
to be an ordinary handgun. But Rosalita knew better, she knew the months that
had been spent crafting this weapon, time that would be put to good use right
now.
Sly's senses went off like police sirens the moment Rosalita's hand
touched the gun. He locked canes with the Vixen and tossed a quick glance to
his left. When he saw Rosalita aiming the gun between their heads, he thought
nothing of it. But his instincts were still screaming at him so he let
himself fall back, pulling the Vixen up and over him and out of harm's way.
And from the hole that appeared in the wall and the five walls past it,
including the bank vault itself, Sly realized he made a very good decision.
"That was too close," he said, kipping up to his feet.
The Vixen mirrored his move and then turned to face Rosalita. "I had no
idea a gun like that existed," she said, dropping into a low stance, her cane
held at the ready.
"We'll finish our fight later," Sly said, sprinting around to Rosalita's
left.
"Oh no you don't," Rosalita said calmly, aiming and firing her gun at
Sly. But Sly was too fast and he managed to avoid the blast. "Stand still!"
she yelled, taking her time to aim at him again.
Sly ran around the rubble in the hallway as best he could, but a loose
floorboard tripped him up. He went sprawling face first across the floor,
small pieces of debris scraping and cutting at his face. But even worse, he
was a sitting duck for Rosalita, and he knew there was no getting out of this
one. But just before Rosalita fired again, the Vixen hit her in the wrist
with her cane, knocking her aim off just enough. Before Rosalita could
recover, she dashed over, scooped Sly up under her arm, and ran into one of
the side rooms.
"Thanks for saving my tail," Sly said reluctantly.
"I much prefer your tail where it is than splattered over the walls,"
the Vixen returned.
Sly couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Is there ever a time when you're
not thinking about flirting?" he asked, feeling a strange sense of deja vu.
"Only when I'm figuring out an opponent's weakness," the Vixen answered
matter-of-factly. "And I think I just figured out hers."
"Really now? Why don't you let me in on this startling revelation."
"As you wish monsieur," the Vixen said, leaning her ear against the door
as she listened for their pursuer. It bothered Sly a little how she had
switched back to her French accent so easily, but he was only able to file it
away for later. "Did you notice that she took quite a long time to fire her
weapon again after each shot? There were times she could have had us both
dead, but she didn't take the shot."
"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that this supergun of hers can't be
fired in quick succession?"
"It's either that or she has a limited amount of firepower for it," the
Vixen admitted. "Either way, if we can get her to take a wild shot, we may be
able to take her down before she can get another one off."
"Sounds simple enough, but that means it really isn't."
A throaty chuckle left the Vixen's lips. "How unfortunately true. This
was supposed to be a simple game I was playing with you, but then you had to
go and complicate things."
Sly was about to tell her what he thought of her game, but then she dove
on him, knocking him to the ground just before the door was shattered by a
massive blast. Rosalita ran into the room, gun at the ready and immediately
trained it on the pair of thieves. The Vixen rolled one way and Sly rolled
the other, a full two or three seconds before Rosalita shot again, smashing a
crater into the concrete floor.
"Follow my lead!" the Vixen yelled, making Rosalita look her way. But
before the dangerous skunk could get the Vixen in her sights, the Vixen began
a series of intricate jumps and dodges, never staying in one spot for more
than a second.
"I may not like you right now," Sly said, "but I love the way you
think." He ran past Rosalita, swatting her playfully on her firm behind
before going into his own acrobatic routine. And while he also didn't land in
one place for long, he also made sure he stayed on the opposite side of the
room from the Vixen so as not to give Rosalita a shot at them both.
Rosalita was getting frustrated. The gun in her hands was becoming very
hot; she had used it far more often than it was intended to be used. But she
had to destroy these two before they wrecked everything she had worked for.
All she needed was one clear shot and they would be done for. Just one clear
shot! But no matter where she moved or aimed, she could not draw a bead on
them.
She heard one of them land softly behind her, and she whirled around
with the gun outstretched. Before she could bring it into position, the other
one landed on the opposite side of her. By instinct she whirled back the
opposite way, realizing her mistake only when it was too late to do anything
about it. "¡Carajo!" she whispered, closing her eyes so that she didn't have
to see the blows that she knew were coming.
As she expected, the hooks of both Sly's and the Vixen's canes slammed
into the sides of her head, rendering her unconscious before she even began to
slump to the ground. "And that takes care of her," the Vixen pronounced.
"And she deserves at least that much for believing her business with you is
more important than mine."
Sly just shook his head in disbelief. "Whatever you say," he said as
he walked away. "I don't care what you do with her, I just want to get out of
here and go home. I've had a really rough day."
"And what makes you think I'm done with you?" she asked, following him
back into the bathroom and into the secret passage. "I'm still upset with you
for trying to change the rules of my game!"
"Whoever said you got to make the rules?" Sly inquired. "You never
asked me what I wanted, you just showed up and started interfering. I was
perfectly happy before you and your game entered my life."
They continued to bicker all the way up the spiral staircase, but there
really wasn't any heat behind their words. Whether it was because they had
tired themselves out or because they really weren't angry anymore, neither one
knew. But then, neither one cared at the moment.
They emerged into the cool night air still arguing, but they stopped
once they reached the roof's edge. "So, this is where we part ways, again,"
Sly said, leaning casually on his cane. "And please don't take this the wrong
way, but I do hope we don't meet up again."
The Vixen snorted, scratching the back of her head with the hook of her
cane. "You do realize by now I'm not the type of woman to take no for an
answer, right?"
"Well I hadn't really thought about it, but I'm not surprised. Still,
there's no way for you to know where I'll be going next. I guarantee I'll be
in and out of there before you even know where I am."
"A challenge, huh?" the Vixen asked, purposely mimicking Sly's words
from the encounter at the museum. "Well, let it never be said that the Vixen
backs down from a challenge, especially from a dashing gentleman like you."
"Do you enjoy doing that?" Sly asked, his tail twitching about randomly
in his agitation.
"More than you could possibly know," the Vixen answered, leaning toward
Sly and angling her head just slightly. But before she could deliver on the
promise of a kiss, something that Sly didn't seem all that averse to, a
shockbolt flew through the air over their heads, making them both jump apart.
"Talk about a mood killer," she said under her breath, her hands tightening on
her cane. "And I can think of someone else I'd like to kill."
Sly's demeanor went from surprised to angry in less than a heartbeat.
"Leave her out of this," he said firmly. "This is between you and me."
The Vixen smirked at Sly, but unlike every other time he saw that look
on her masked face, this time it chilled him to his core. "There is always
room in my game for more players," she said calmly. "Or in this case, more
pieces."
Sly took a step toward her, but he got no closer as the hook of her cane
was buried into his stomach. The impact was light and didn't hurt at all, but
the electric jolt that followed more than made up for it. Sly collapsed onto
the roof, most of his body paralyzed from the shock. "Please don't," he
whispered, struggling to turn his head to look at the Vixen.
But the Vixen had already leapt from the roof, gliding to the ground by
way of a white paraglider in the shape of a white fox's head. Carmelita fired
shockbolt after shockbolt at her, but the Vixen always managed to twist her
body to avoid them. When she was directly above Carmelita, she released the
paraglider and dropped down, swinging her cane with all the force and momentum
she could. Carmelita tried to block the blow, but it was too much and the
impact to her skull knocked her out cold.
Sly had forced his body to crawl to the roof's edge and he'd seen the
whole thing. He stared with disbelief as the Vixen hoisted Carmelita up onto
her shoulders and turned to look his way. "You want her back Cooper?" she
yelled up to him. "It's time to play a new game. This one's called 'Follow
the clues.' And your first one is right here." The Vixen pulled a rolled up
piece of paper from her boot and dropped it on the ground.
Sly watched helplessly as the Vixen carried Carmelita off into the
Madrid night. "Carmelita!" he yelled frantically, his anguish carrying
through the cool air. Once he had regained enough mobility in his body, he
pushed himself off the roof and used his own paraglider to get to the ground.
His landing was far rougher than the Vixen's and he ended up skidding across
the sidewalk on his face a few feet.
Ignoring the pain from the landing, Sly scampered over to where the
rolled paper lay. It took a couple tries to open the paper up because he was
still a little weak. But as soon as he did, all pain and weakness left his
body in the face of an anger so powerful it literally made him see red.
The paper he held, now crumpled into a very small ball in his hand, was
a perfect copy of one of the pages of his very own Thievius Raccoonus.
TO BE CONTINUED (
geocities.com/televisioncity/satellite/6616) (
geocities.com/televisioncity/satellite) (
geocities.com/televisioncity)