Sly Cooper is copyright of SuckerPunch, and all characters, ideas, ad blah blah blah related to the Sly Cooper franchise belog to SuckerPunch.

Trey Wright is copyright of my dear friend GhettoToaster, ad thanks to her for allowing me to use him!! Love ya!

Now read. :P

The room was pleasantly cool. I pulled my fingers through the strands of fake brown hair that made up my wig. My eyes flickered back and forth beneath the heavy sunglasses, my nerves frayed as I waited. I was in a hurry.

The man returned to the counter, handing me the package I needed. I thanked him hurriedly before walking swiftly out. The hot air of the murderous California summer hit me hard. I grimaced, wishing I had a tank top at least. But no, I had a red cotton shirt and a thick brown leather jacket. To add to it, my pants were tight black jeans.

I began jogging towards the parking lot where I had left the black Dodge Charger. The car was nice, I had to admit, with 22" rims and windows so dark that no cop would ever even see the color of my fur, but I didn't have much time to appreciate such small things. Cars weren't my specialty anyway; they were Murray's.

But as I crossed the street to the lot I was surprised by the sound of police sirens. I turned my head, gasping at what I saw.

A group of vicious looking cops were chasing after a lone man. He was a wolf, with silver fur and a white tail-underside. He had long blonde hair (to his shoulders) topped by a backwards black cap. His shirt was short-sleeved and white, his pants tight and a jean color. His shoes were a deep brown.

His features stood out from the pigs chasing him, and I was immediately captured by his almost-feminine looks as he neared. In his arms, I soon noticed, was a bag.

I jumped quickly out of the way as he barreled by, and watched with pity as he tripped over a crack in the cement and fell down. He was sobbing loudly. I turned again, seeing the cops, and took action without a second thought.

I scooped him up and shifted my package so that I could hold both. I darted, listening in triumph as the cops screamed after me. But I was fast, agile, and – above all – I was Sly Cooper.

The wolf was silent as I set him down beside the car. Tossing off my glasses and wig I commanded him to get in. As I threw the package and myself in the front seat, he climbed in with the bag gripped tightly in his arms. I turned the key and slammed my foot against the gas pedal so hard it hurt my leg.

We screeched out of the parking lot, the cops and their cars far behind. I shrugged off the jacket when I got the chance, and then I decided to get to know the shivering ball of fur in my passenger's seat.

"Who are you? I haven't seen someone dart from the cops crying since I last saw Carmelita."

He looked over at me. As I tilted my head to meet the gaze, I saw that he had brilliant blue eyes that made me want to just not look away. He was taking me in, gazing at me, until I looked at the road again.

"My name is Trey."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. From the look on his face, I was getting no more than that. I focused once more on the road. Behind us I could hear the distant sound of police sirens. Tell him my name or not? I wondered, contemplating the fact that I knew no more than his name.

"My name is Sly."

I heard him gasp. I didn't look that time, knowing he was looking at me. I bet that package in my lap started looking suspicious right about then. The sirens were growing louder just then, and I once again slammed my foot as hard as I could against the gas pedal.

Trey was whimpering. I heard it. Either my identity or our speed was scaring him. I swerved between cars and roads, wishing so fervently that Murray was driving, not me. I'm not a big driver. I like action – sure, driving can be considered action, but my legs were still for the most part and my balance up to the damn car.

Holding the steering wheel with one hand, I fished out a cell phone from my pocket. I dialed a quick number and put it to my ear. As the phone rang, I jerked the steering wheel so that we took the corner just in time. I heard Trey moan.

"Hello?"

"Murray! I'm on my way back. A guy was in trouble out by the store – I picked him up. The cops are after us. Mind helping?"

"O-oh! Sure, Sly! I'll drive out and get 'em, don't you worry!"

"Thanks, pal."

I flipped the phone closed and turned another corner. The sirens were drilling into my head and a headache was quickly forming. I snarled, rather irritated, and tried to get the car to go faster. Then it just stopped.

"Shit!" I growled, punching the dashboard. "I forgot about the gas!"

Damn Murray, where are you?

I saw Trey shake his head. "They can't catch me, I need this. Is there anything you can do?"

I glanced up into his eyes. They were wide, pleading, and oh so blue. I closed my own brown eyes and sighed. "Of course."

"Step out of the car with your hands up!" snarled a female voice over a megaphone. Oh no…

I grabbed my cane, which was in the back seat, and stepped out. Trey was huddled in the passenger's seat like a scared puppy… which, considering whatever his age could be, maybe he was. I stood there, defiant, before the parked police cars. My cane was rigid in my sweaty palms.

"Hello, Cooper. Long time no see."

I glared over at the speaker. The sun was behind her, making the blue tinges of her hair stand out. She raised her gun, pointing it at my head. I sensed it was no empty threat.

"Carmelita."

"You're going to jail, Cooper, finally. You've tricked me too many times."

"I was trying to follow my heart. Apparently that didn't work."

"I'm not talking about that, now am I, Sly?"

"I suppose not."

We stood there, two people in a love/hate relationship, pulled from some old western film to reenact our bloody battle. Except I didn't have a gun to draw with. Just my trusty cane, that's all.

Carmelita snarled at me, the glimmer of her red lipstick standing out from the shadows on her face. "Where's the other one?"

"Him?" I asked, motioning to the car.

"Yeah. Get him out here."

I shook my head. "Whatever he did, forget about it. It's just you and me."

"That's how it was before, Sly."

"I'm not talking about that, now am I?"

"I suppose not."

After all I'd been through, after everything I'd risked, was our relationship destined to end like this? Were we destined to hate?

I smirked as the van roared onto the street, Murray whooping in victory as the cops ran out of the way.

Muhahaha! Slash, yes. Yaoi. Whatever. Love it! Sly x OC. No body reviewed my other story, but it sucks anyway. Jah. I'll rewrite it sometime...Ah, what does Sly have in that package? Who is Trey? What did Sly do to Carmelita?! Joo will see soon enough. If I get reviews. BLEH. No flames, please.