A/N: I keep the Disclaimer, main Author's Notes and all that jazz in the update for Chapter 1. I'll be posting that soon.

Here's the prologue. PLEASE, notice the date – this story takes place about TWENTY YEARS after 'Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves' came to its conclusion. For those of you who are a stickler about the math, that means Sly's first child, a daughter, is conceived during the year in which 'Spy Cooper' takes place. It hasn't happened in that story, but give it a chance – furthermore, I'm not abandoning that story… I'll come back to it, I assure you. I enjoy it, after all.

Dawn of Progeny

Kit Karamak

PROLOGUE:

November 13th, 2025

"Not bad for forty-one, huh?" Sly Cooper ran his fingers back through his tousled gray bangs then drew a gray cap with black trim down upon his brow. He folded his arms and surveyed his work with a smile of dignity. His chocolate brown eyes lowered then raked upwards and a confident up-nod of his chin preceded his swaggering body language.

"I'm almost impressed," came a feminine retort. From over his shoulder came Carmelita Fox, a research analyst for Interpol. She placed a dainty left paw upon his right shoulder; a gold ring glistened on her left ring finger. Her eyes lowered to survey his handiwork. "I could have done it better," continued with a boastful smile. "But I admit, I have to offer credit where it's due… you did a good job."

Before them lay a group of unconscious soldiers in nondescript military fatigues. None of them wore identification. She knelt down and used her fingers to brush apart the fur upon the neck of the group's leader. "This is the tattoo marking I mentioned." She glanced up at Sly Cooper, a middle-aged raccoon whose lithe build made him look like more of a nimble dancer. However, the blocky features of his body – his paws, shoulders and even his facial build, made him appear far from being a pushover.

His head lowered and they made eye contact. "See that? A two-day operation wrapped up on time. We'd better hurry before we wind up getting caught."

"I'd lose my job," countered the vixen, only a few short years older than Cooper, but easily looking a decade younger. She stood up and placed a paw on the side of his face, patted his muzzle and said, "If you're worried about time then don't take so long dispatching a group of foes in the future. Let's go."

"Like you could have done it faster," he returned with a grin.

Carmelita Fox stepped over the unconscious dog pile then glanced over her shoulder at him. "Yeah, I could have. Know why? Because I've still got it, Ringtail. Let's go." She stepped through a rusty arch that led into an abandoned town up ahead. Crossing from the valley onto the cracked old pavement, it was like stepping into the city that time forgot.

Sly coughed into his paw and said, "Don't forget, it was my idea to follow the big metal thing out in the field."

"They ran power lines to this town," she responded with an airy chuckle. "It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that we should follow them to the city. The problem was, with no more cables running over them, I couldn't figure out which way to go."

Cooper followed the vixen through a rusty metallic archway, off the grass path and into the overgrown city streets. "True, it was way too foggy to see if any other ones were visible, not to mention most of the line of poles had come down ages ago… but my gut said to head north and… here we are."

"I'll put a gold star on the fridge for you when we get home," she told him with a snort. "God only knows how long it's been since anyone has set foot in this town."

"Not counting those guards?" asked Sly. He hooked a thumb, motioning to the pile they were leaving behind.

Her attention was elsewhere. She lifted her gaze to the row of tall buildings, covered in moss, ivy and grime. Nearly all of these buildings lacked windows and acted like several rows of statues, defending the barren grounds.

Sly cleared his throat to distract her then asked, "Are you sure your source is as reliable as you say?"

"Are you questioning my judgment?" She paused, glanced over her shoulder and glared at her husband then her muzzle contorted into a moue of absolute disgust. "Nevermind – don't answer that."

"Yeah, after all," he chided with a grin, "You married me, so I have ever right to question your judgment. What were you thinking? Two decades ago… what a crazy idea, huh?"

She furrowed her brows at his sarcastic sense of humor and smirked. "I can always remedy that mistake right now. The papers could be in the mail faster than you could pick your own pocket."

"Oh, you know that I only married you for money, Carmelita." He placed his right paw against the small of her back. "And it still amuses me that you're angry I never returned to the police force."

"I wanted you to have direction in your life," she snapped. "It's not like I was asking you to get a job for money, either – lord knows you have enough. If anything I married you for money. Dammit, you could have become a history teacher or an archeologist or a self-defense tutor for all I cared. I just wanted you to do something with your life other than steal people's property."

"I gave it all back." He cleared his throat then added, "You still love me," then repeated himself in a melodic singsong voice, taunting her.

"Will you be serious?" she snapped, growling at the end. "If my source is true, this abandoned city is just a cover up. My children would be in danger and I'll be damned if I let that happen. How in the world did Bentley ever keep you focused on a job?"

"I'm focused on this really hot vixen with a badge." Sly opened his muzzle to say more but his wife pivoted on her heel, snatched his jaw and snout in her paw, clamping it together, and leered at him with 'the gaze.'

"My children are in danger and they don't even realize it. If you're even a fraction of a man, you'll cut out this nonsense and help me out right now. We're going to crack this case wide open or I'm going to crack your skull wide open… but you'd probably like that, n'est-ce pas?"

"Always the fiery Latina." He came alongside of her and the two began walking up the street as a pair. Weeds grew up through the cracks in the street and wild grass towered above sections of a nearby sidewalk. The roadway was lined with rusted out street lamps, their protective painted barrier coatings long-since worn away.

Minutes later, they happened across an overpass, which began crumbling quite some time ago. It looked safe enough to cross by foot but neither Sly nor Carmelita trusted the concrete bridge to something heavy, like an automobile. One at a time, they made their way across the crumbling concrete expansion then continued further into town.

Her mood changed to some degree. "What a derelict. I can't understand why an entire population would abandon this place for several straight decades and just let it fall into decay. It's like… looking into the future and seeing what will happen to a city just two decades after all sentient life ends or… something."

"Such an optimist," he replied. "At first, I thought this might have been one of those mock model cities you might find out in the south-west of America. You know, the ones where they do nuclear tests…"

"Sly," she trailed off then used a paw gesture to make him stop talking. An ear perked up, listening to the ambient sound of wind howling through the empty window frames of several dozen buildings. "I thought I heard something." She cocked her head then, after a moment of listening, she began walking again. "…How eerily empty."

The raccoon adjusted his blue cap and frowned. His eyes wondered the market square as they came to the first major intersection. "I expected to see a lot of graffiti but even the small handful of paint tags look faded and forgotten."

"That, at least, would be something," she mused with a shake of her head. Carmelita ran her right paw over her face then sighed. "The weather, combined with time, did quite a number on this city. All we're looking at is years upon years without maintenance. Within a century Mother Nature will have taken all of this back. Within five hundred years the foundations and sewers will offer little to remember about this place… in five thousand years there will hardly be anything left for archeologists to study."

"Well this proves it." Sly offered her a brilliant smile. "Your source was wrong and we can go on home."

Carmelita ribbed him with an elbow. "There are two things to remember, here." She stopped for a moment, looking at awning frames where the fabric hung in shreds above several doorways. "Number one, real estate is worth power and money. This town is large, it has its own twentieth-century coal power planet at the other end." She lifted a paw, motioning to the trio of smoke stacks in the distance. "…It has sewers and a water treatment plant and two other industrial factories. It has a classy-looking residential sector and a centralized commercial district. How this prime real estate could be forgotten for this long makes me wonder… I mean, what if there was a toxic accident here and people knew not to come back to this place. And here we are, walking around about to get cancer from it?"

"What's the second thing to remember?"

She stared at the ground with an intense frown. "Sly, if a group of people sought to cause trouble but stay off the radar… don't you think they would come here? For some reason, people avoid this city – even to the point where no one is graffiti-marking it… So it looks like the perfect place to come if you want to be left alone. If anything, this city should not be trusted, so no we can't leave – the source was probably correct. Something bad is happening here."

"Or already happened a long time ago."

She nodded and patted his arm. "Exactly. Even worse, both possibilities are possible; something happened here ages ago and now it's used as camouflage to great effect. I'd rather not think about all of that, though. I'd rather scope out the area and set up some tracking equipment then scan the topography and use sonic radio waves to search under the ground. Then, I want to turn tail and go back to our mountain."

A grin tugged at Cooper's muzzle. "You really love our little home in the alps, don't you?"

She nodded in reply to his question, fidgeted for a moment then said, "Yeah, you really did good with that place." Carmelita lifted her left paw and fidgeted with the gold band and diamond ring on her left finger then glanced over at her spouse. "What's the last thing you've stolen?"

He pivoted on his heel, turning towards her in the middle of the street. The raccoon placed his paws on her shoulders, until they faced one another. "Mrs. Carmelita Cooper, mother of Conner and Carmen S. Cooper, you worry too much. As lovely as you are when angered, I've done my best to keep things on the up-and-up."

She cocked her head, half-glaring at him. "My tail. What's the last thing you've stolen and when?"

The raccoon dropped his jaunty smile and, in an endearing voice, told her, "When we came off the airplane, an hour ago, I took a Rolex off the left arm of a right-handed lawyer and put it onto the right wrist of a left-handed bum who was panhandling outside the airport near the entrance to the baggage claim area."

Carmelita reached for his right paw on her left shoulder, held it firmly in her grip and used her other paw to smack him hard on his knuckles. She watched for his reaction then did it a second time, harder. Satisfied with a wince, she released his paw and said, "I got a reaction out of you this time, good; I'm glad."

"Because I flinched?" His grin returned. "You just like seeing me vulnerable."

"All women like seeing the vulnerable side of a man – don't confuse that with being sick, whiney or injured, though… We like to see a strong man who doesn't need to be taken care of, but every so often, a woman likes seeing vulnerability in a man."

"I'll keep that in mind, next time you scold me."

"It has to be genuine," she replied, leering at him. After a moment of eye contact, she turned away and began heading back up the street. Sly followed after her. The vixen changed topic and told him, "We need to start setting up a search parameter. We'll use electronic equipment to search for any signs of electromagnetic waves, radio frequencies or anything that can pinpoint artificial interference. There has to be a reason why the Internet satellite view of this city has a censorship blur over it."

"The weirdest part is those postcards," said Sly. "The ones from the airport."

Carmelita withdrew the gift shop index card with a photograph on the front. It was a 'photoshopped' image of their current location, complete with people walking the streets and automobiles driving through the area. She snarled at the quaint image and shook her head. "Now that you mention it, the government could be involved with covering this area up… that way no one asks questions. The thing is, why would they lie for decades? It's obvious by looking at this place; no one has lived here for at least five generations."

"So…" Sly rubbed beneath his chin. "Either the government, who is obviously involved with keeping this place a secret, is in on what's rumored to be happening here… or someone has used that loophole to their advantage. The question is, how does the government enforce their dirty secret?"

A third voice joined the conversation. "That's where I come in." Both Coopers turned around and faced a well build canine with an unlit cigar clinched between his teeth. Carmelita recognized his face a second before Sly. He noted their expression then shook his head. "I see you both must have known my older brother brother, Mugsy. Mug shot, as he preferred to be called, was the family blacksheep – he made his money illegally by means of gambling and racketeering. Me? I work for Russia – I'm the area manager of this town and unfortunately I cannot allow word of this city to go beyond the three of us." He drew two weapons and pointed them at Sly and Carmelita. The over-sized pistols appeared of normal size in his large fists.

"Oh, and I don't hold a grudge for what you've done to the men out at the gate," he said. "Since you're both about to die, do either of you have any last requests?"

Carmelita folded her arms over her chest. "What happened to the people of this city?"

He glared at her a minute then cleared his throat. "During the first world war," said the man in a plain American dialect, "a generation before the invention of the nuclear bomb, this city was an industrial marvel. A scientist here invented a method in which an atom could be split to draw energy from within it. He was a genius but his intelligent inventions, including a way to recycle waste water, turn direct current into alternating current and utilize Edison's incandescent street lamp… well, let's just say these inventions got him into trouble." He gestured with an up-nod to the intersection. "See? No traffic lights. When is the last time you saw a town this large without traffic lights? No, it's been over ninety years since this town had a population. Unfortunately, one of his inventions killed every flesh-and-blood being for up to fifteen miles outside of this city. They were vaporized by the deadliest weapon to ever get buried by the civilized world – a neutron particle flash."

Cooper cocked his brows, glanced at his wife to see if she was following then turned back to the man with the guns. "I'm not the kind of guy who watches History Channel all day, but I've been to a few museums in my day – let me see if I'm following ya' here…" He licked his lips, tilted his head and frowned. "A burst of radiation vaporized all living tissue – everyone vanished but all the buildings, structures and objects remained intact. Isn't wood organic? Why didn't have the buildings in this area collapse from a lack of wood support? Wouldn't there be, oh, I don't know… say… fallout or something?"

"It didn't create a bi-product," said the man, adding, "Everyone simply vanished during the flash. A park at the center of the city no longer had grass, but other than that, only flesh and blood creatures disintegrated. At the edge of the flash radius, several beings were reduced to a smoldering pile of skeletons and tattered clothes. Beyond that, the rest of the world had no idea what happened. The government didn't want to draw attention. His research was salvaged and, since then, we've perfected it. There is a machine that controls the flash, which leaves no radioactive residue in its wake. You'll simply cease to exist. The other option is to take a bullet and die, right here. We'll take your remains and put them into the disintegrator machine and there will be no questions." He flipped the safety mechanism then lifted the pistols a little higher. "What's your option? Start walking or lie down and die in pain?"

"Yeah," Carmelita said, changing the subject, "I knew your brother. I was his arresting officer two times. He was a huge pushover and I bet you're the same way." She smirked, cleared her throat into her paw and told him, "I'm going to make things easy for you – you've got two options… one, you help us find the group of science thugs that are operating a base out of this city so that we can shut down their operation… or you can join your buddies outside of city limits. I'm sure you saw the dogpile – they're wrapped up for you, nice and pretty."

The man paused to scrutinize Carmelita Cooper. "You're barely forty years old – you would have been awfully young when my brother was put into jail the first and second time. He's probably about twelve-to-fifteen years your senior; I don't believe you. Follow me. Don't worry, vaporization doesn't hurt."

"How reassuring," retorted Sly with a roll of his eyes. "And she did take him down. The first time was at his casino in America, the second time was in Holland at a flight show. So! Since neither of us are going anywhere, tell us about option 'c'."

"Option 'C' is very much like option 'B'," replied the large canine with the two guns. "I'll kill you both. It's the same for the next twenty-three options – the entire alphabet of options involves your deaths."

"Those pistols are huge," said Carmelita, looking to buy time. "I know my guns, the chamber alone is bigger than a five-seventy-seven caliber… what would you need that much firepower for?"

"To kill you," he said, narrowing his gaze at the vixen. "You're right, it's a six-even – now the second highest caliber handgun round available. One slug will turn you into a ball of fluff. I like a girl who knows their guns well. Pity you're on the other end of it."

Having been distracted by her, he was alarmed when Sly wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, grapping for his forearms. Cooper forced him to aim straight up into the sky. He tried to jerk an elbow back by Sly evaded the attempt, keeping a tight grip on the man's wrists. One of the Nitro Express magnum handguns went off, firing straight up into the sky with a thunderous wallop of sound. The recoil forced the gun out of the canine's paw – it flew back, hitting him square in the forehead.

The man, who so closely resembled Muggshot, quite suddenly became deadweight in Sly's arms. Both of them collapsed to the street together, with Carmelita rushing over to help. She batted the other gun out of his left paw then took him by the legs, pulling him away from Sly. Cooper crawled out from beneath his hulking form and shook his head.

"Thanks, Ringtail." She grimaced, directing her attention to the bloody gash on the bridge of the man's nose. "He's got one hell of a concussion. Let's take him over there and secure him," she continued, pointing to a rundown corner office on the first floor of a nearby building. A faded logo, the symbol for law enforcement, hung on a squeaky metal sign above the door. "There's bound to be a holding cell available."

Sly met her slight grin with his own quirky Cheshire smile and came to his feet. "Sounds good; you get his legs, I'll get the heavy end." He slid his paws beneath the man's arms and, together, they hefted the unconscious man out of the intersection.

Once inside, they worked in concert to get him to the back of the empty police station, where they made use of a jail cell. Carmelita secured the jail cell, using several sets of handcuffs to keep the cell door from being opened. Sly stuffed his paws into his pocket and shook his head. "It's a damn shame that idiot is useless to us now. I'd really like to know what his employer is hiding." He tossed two large handguns to his wife and frowned. "Don't look at me – they're not my style."

She caught one in her left and the other in her right paw. After a moment to study the guns, she said, "They need muzzle compensators, weights at the end, holes drilled into the muzzle to vent the discharge for reduced recoil and…" She paused then frowned. "Ivory handles?" She lifted her eyes and said, "They have ivory handles? How gaudy." Realizing her statement came off as confusing, after listing things that she wanted to add to the weapons, she cleared her throat and said, "Obviously this guy had these guns custom made – they have ridiculous ivory handles but they're not designed for the small-fry user, they're recoil monsters."

"Fix'em," said Sly with a shrug. "It's not like anyone needs a pistol round to be that large. It's unnecessary."

"If you're going to make a rifle round the size of a toddler's arm, eventually someone will need a pistol to fire it. This caliber of rounds has been around for almost thirty years, Sly. Although, I'll admit, I've never actually seen one used outside of a gun show, before. Dirty Harry would be jealous."

Sly grinned again. "Marvelous."

"Smart ass," she returned with a slight giggle. "Let's get back to work."

"Didn't you used to hate Dirty Harry?" He opened the door and held it for her.

Carmelita stepped through, back into the brisk weather. "I formed a second opinion. He was just doing what he thought needed to be done in order to bring justice to the streets. I've done that before, when in pursuit of you. I'd just never put it into perspective before because I've always seen him for just another bent cop. Dirty or not, he was out there using the extreme extent of the law to enforce peace and justice."

"Oh my goodness, you had an epiphany." Sly clapped his paws together then followed her through the doorway and back out into the crisp, cool atmosphere. "I've always seen it for what it is – a movie about a cop who goes over the edge just a little, because it adds to the manly 'badass' sort of attitude. So, after all these decades, you finally decided to give Dirty Harry a chance? When did this happen anyway? What's the occasion?"

A flat expression crossed her facial features. "Sly, I gave you a chance, didn't I? Women are evolved forms of higher intelligence; we're very perceptive beings. We have the ability to grow and better ourselves. We're not stubborn fools. And if you want to believe otherwise, you can always be single…" She paused for effect, smiled, then said, "That's what I thought. Like I said, I gave you a chance several decades ago. And there was certainly no big occasion back then, either." She paused. After a few seconds, she cut him a grin.

"You're hot when you're fired up about something. It's so cute."

A distant tapping noise caught their attention, ending the dialogue. The sound turned to more of a rattling then broadened into a cacophony of jarring chaos. The dissonance swelled like an orchestra joined next by a fantastic shaking. As they hurried out into the middle of the street, Sly and his wife were quick to notice a plume of dirt and soot rising above the town. Two blocks over, a four story building dropped from sight.

Cooper lifted his foot and brought his heel down on the corner of a manhole. It shifted off the metallic rim in the weed-grown street. He took Carmelita by the waist and pulled her towards the sewer opening. "Go, go…"

"Sly, I…"

"No sewage, the city is dead – just go!"

"What about the man in the cell!" she blurted out, starting to descend as directed, knowing it was in her best interest for safety.

Cooper sighed. He knew he was the only one able to pick the locks of those cuffs used to hold the bars shut but a bullet would work on them just as quickly. He shook his head and exclaimed, "No time! It's double reinforced concrete walls with dual frame rebar – that cell is safer than anywhere else in this city, okay? Just move!" She dropped down the ladder, beneath the street and he dove in, joining her. His paw lifted above the street level, pulling the manhole cover into place.

A building directly across from the police station went next, crumbling to dust. Bricks spilled out over the street, covering the metal lid and barring their exit. The rumbling continued for another few minutes then died down into small aftershock jolts.

"This is a strange area for earthquakes," Sly muttered. He squinted his eyes until his natural nocturnal eyesight offered him enough to distinguish blocky shapes. "It's not pitch black down here; I can make out where you are and where the walls are… Let's look for a way out."

"Sly, there are no tectonic plates in this area, but that was more than a tremor – it felt like we were right on a fault line." She reached into an inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small Maglite. It activated with a distinctive click sound, bathing the ceiling in its bright tri-LED illumination. Next, she swept the beam down to the ground, barren of wastewater for ages.

"Carmelita, did Russian towns even look like this one at the turn of the last century? I mean, it had a distinctively American feel and the sewer tunnels are kinda' weird too. They're very… I don't know… modern, I guess."

"I'm not in disagreement, here." She pointed the light back up then pivoted on her heel. "How does air get down here? There should be sewer grates that let in rainwater and air, but I don't see any access to the street level, save for the way we came."

"It's possible that this is one of the higher points of town, so water runs downhill. There are probably some gutters further down the tunnel." He drew in a deep breath and said, "Other than a little musty, it's not terribly bad down here."

"Yeah, mold – probably from the wet season, leading into summer." She paused, tapped the back of the flashlight casing against her chin then folded her arms. "You know, that quake happened at an awfully convenient time. With all the guards and the sector boss dispatched, I'm thinking that the quake could have been a defense measure."

The raccoon furrowed his brows. "How do you build your own earthquake machine?" He tried to imagine what it would look like but only came up with, "An underground mountain of Jell-O. If you give it a wild shake, it would wobble the city to its foundations… wow." His eyes shifted, meeting those of his wife. She lifted the flashlight in his face, causing his dilated pupils to shrink. "What? There's always room for Jell-O!"

"You're impossible. Why did I celebrate twenty wedding anniversaries with you? Listen," continued the vixen, unfolding and refolding her arms, shining the light against the ground. "I'm thinking we're really close. If that was some sort of counter measure, they might think we're dead now. They might think we're under rubble somewhere, because everything stopped now that we're down here."

"I didn't see surveillance equipment," Sly murmured, tapping his snout with a fingertip. Maybe one of those thugs we beat up, outside the city walls, was able to contact whoever is in charge, here. Either that or the guy we put into that cell wasn't quite as unconscious as we thought, and he had some sort of radio transmitter, like a panic button."

"I checked him," she replied. "I got his guns – he had nothing else on him… but it could have been put under the skin or something."

Sly snapped his fingers. "There could be a sensor that sends his vital signs back to the leader. They could have monitored the fight through the data, or whatever. Once he was unconscious, they put their next method of attack into motion. I've seen some weird stuff before – it's not impossible, y'know."

"True." Always a cop, she grew quiet to ponder the current evidence and facts they had uncovered thus far. "There are two possibilities, then… either he's sending another team of people into the city to patrol it… or the shaking stopped because whoever is at the bottom of this has no cameras down in the sewers."

Sly frowned, giving her words some measure of thought. "Come to think of it, I'm sure we're going to be surrounded by hunting parties if we're not careful." He opened his muzzle to speak again but was ushered to silence by his spouse.

She knelt over a broken pipe, jutting from the wall. "It's clean," she said, mostly to herself, cleared her throat and announced, "Whoever has come through here recently left a single, bright red thread. It's snagged on this broken pipe and, at the very least, tells us that someone involved in all of this is wearing something red. I can't tell if it's cotton, polyester or another type of fabric, but it's a place to start."

"I'm sure we're going in the right direction, then." Sly came alongside of the vixen as she rose to her feet. He placed a paw at the small of her back, guiding her further down the pipe – the two quickened their pace but kept their eyes sharp in case they came across more clues.

Bold stature and tall standing, the owl extended his wings, ruffled the feathers then folded them neatly along his back. He lifted his right arm, while a female lackey draped the appendage in a brilliant ruby colored cloak. He then pivoted on his talons and offered his left arm. She moved about him, draping his fancy cloth covering over his other shoulder and bicep.

The woman sank back into the shadow, near the wall, reaching up to tip the brim of her hat before leaving. The owl turned from the departing woman, clad in a similar outfit, facing his peers. A group of canines, lupines and a bobcat tittered in their silky suits and fancy ties. The owl's beak contorted into a smile.

"My accomplice amuses you, gentleman?"

One of the dogs cleared his throat and said, "She has a very nice figure but we couldn't see her face. What's her name? What species is she?"

"The young lady goes by the name of 'Sandi' and you'll see her again, soon enough. Let's focus on business." He cleared his throat much the same way the other man did, previously, and then stalked across the large underground room. "My dear friends, your charitable donations are very much appreciated. By now, many of you have read about one of my ancestors, an impetuous and driven man who came to be known simply as 'Clockwerk'."

He turned about and began pacing a line. "Nothing remains of Clockwerk's original body. His second build was utterly dismembered and recycled. He is, for lack of a better word, gone. His existence concluded a very long time ago. But he was driven by ambition to become something more than the normal man. While my family denounced his ways and disassociated themselves with Clockwerk, I grew up fascinated by his tenacity."

"Your field is in theoretical science, though," said the feline at the far right of the group. "How does quantum mechanics bring you closer to the achievements of a man who lived for many generations?"

The owl lifted a feathery hand, index finger raised. "My fifth great grandfather, Author Cogwell vaporized everyone in this city, including himself. Russia has done an exceptional job of keeping this town a secret and my grandfather's work is still here, archived in the walls of this laboratory. He picked this place because it's where Clockwerk once traded his feathers for metal. Like me, he didn't shun Clockwerk's passion to succeed, as the rest of my family has and, to this day, continues to do."

"Twenty million Euros is a lot of money," said the bobcat.

Another man chimed in, with, "Twenty million from each one of us. We're waiting to find out the details on the work for which we've funded you. We want to see results that will tip the financial scales in our favor."

"Gentleman," said the owl with a slight smile, "You're all future stockholders in a new company that will emerge as a global giant that will rival Microsoft in its glory days. This company will be the largest non-government affiliated business in the world. Larger than NASA, larger than Halliburton, and twice the size of Google, who is currently partnered with the United States Government in more than half-a-dozen projects."

"But what exactly is being sold? How is information going to turn profit?" Yet another investor who, until now, was quiet.

"Because what we're selling is something my fifth-great grandfather tried to invent. We're selling something that my deceased ancestor, Clockwerk, managed to utilize on a miniature scale. Gentleman," he turned away from them and lifted his hands into the air. "We're going to sell the future!" He thrust his left arm outwards and a holographic schematic filled the air. "A machine that will produce unlimited energy, without needing to be refueled! It could power an automobile forever, built to the size and specifications that my ancestor used! Just think what is possible on a scale grand enough to power a city? How about ten thousand cities? Not a single byproduct, no harmful emissions! It's reusable and can extend to reaches a thousand times further than modern alternating current! It has millions of applications, from a weapon that could disintegrate a being on the spot, all the way to an energy source capable of teleporting a full sized shuttle through linier space to avoid the boundaries of matter and energy discovered by Einstein! One hundred years from now, we'll have left this planet by our own power!"

He turned back to them and rubbed his paws. "Author Cogwell meant well. But he was too immature to cultivate power of this magnitude. He thought he could take what powered someone the likes of Clockwerk and recreate it on a massive scale. It vaporized living tissue, turning an entire population to dust. However! I've managed to design a power plant capable of reproducing Clockwerk's endless supply of energy without recreating the foolish blunder of Author Cogwell. Soon, the world will know the name, 'Artimus Crowell. The family tradition of changing the surname to hide in shame has come to its conclusion. The 'Clock Maker Owl", a thief guild leader and hobbyist inventor has now been laid to rest as my family's greatest shame. And, yet, from his shameful deeds, my fifth great grandfather, Author Cogwell tried to recreate self-sustaining limitless power, only to create a weapon from it. I have taken their failures and molded them into success. The Owl, Clockowl, Cogowl, Cogwell and Cagwell surnames can now be forgotten. There is only 'Crowell', the name and generation that will bring success to my lineage. And all of you here will witness history and grow wealthy off of my success."

The first canine, on the end of the group, stepped forward. "Mister Crowell, we are all very excited that your creation will change the world and make it a better place… I have a few questions, sir."

The owl glanced over his shoulder at the group and nodded then, slowly, turned to face them. "What are your questions?"

"First of all, how do we make money on this? If it needs no refueling, it would destroy the economy and the market built around energy. Finally, can you provide a demonstration of your invention?"

Artimus grinned. "It will create a new market, based around exploration, research, military and all the units necessary to power the world. Please, understand that every self-powered vehicle or object will use this battery-like power plant. Imagine the world if every laptop was able to self-generate its own power without creating exhaust or heat. Yes," he folded his arms and tilted his head. "The world governments will object to our creation at first, but without my new power source, they'll never go beyond Mars and the Moon. There will be new markets in trade of raw resources, mined on distant planets. The global economy will become the galactic economy and will make us all wealthy beyond our wildest dreams."

The avian adjusted his velvet cloak, which covered his expensive business suit. He slowly extended his right arm, holding a remote control in his feathery fingers. With the push of a button, the far wall began to rotate, until the group was looking at a large metal console.

The computer activated by remote command and automated a sequence of events. A trap door in the ceiling opened, as well as one in the floor, directly beneath. A glowing sphere, approximately fifteen feet tall, entered the room from below, until the top met a socket in the recessed ceiling. Upon connection, the glowing intensified and power to the rest of the building ceased. Seconds later, the lights came back on, now powered by the energy core at the center of the room. It resembled a matter-antimatter drive from a sci-fi television show.

"It's safe and it does put out any rays or waves or other byproduct. It generates no heat, nor does it consume anything… it's a self-sustaining, unlimited power supply. Depending on the size and need for power, it can be made to accommodate. One large enough to power a laptop computer would be the size of my thumb. One big enough to power a space shuttle would be half the size of my display model.

"The one you see before you is mighty enough to power all of Moscow, at its current size and consumption rating, until the end of time. So, in theory, if Moscow remained exactly as it is today, without change in power demand, this core would last forever. When need grows, this core will be upgraded – its chambers will be expanded. Thermal power, Nuclear power and even green, eco-friendly methods of power are now a thing of the past. I've replaced them all."

He threw his hands outwards again and exclaimed, "Just imagine if you never had to charge your cell phone! Your electric Razor! You're child's handheld video game! Just imagine if you could power a turbine capable of refrigerating the polar icecaps! Your watch would become timeless; your flight home would never require an overlay. An electronic heart would outlast every user to ever receive it and, thus, could become recycled and donated like its tissue-organ counterparts. Gentleman, you've invested in the future."

One of the men ran his fingers back through his hair and frowned. "I was told I was investing in a fantastic new weapon. You mentioned that this has destructive applications, earlier. Can you demonstrate its power? Other than vaporizing the living, how can it be used as a weapon?"

Artimus approached him directly. "The energy wave it emits can be tuned to various frequencies. For example, it could disintegrate an incoming asteroid if necessary. It could vaporize an organic being but the energy would pass harmlessly through their clothing and whatever was in their pockets. A single weapon unit, the size of a taser, could turn you to dust or merely stun you for a few hours. By calibrating the output, I could overload your nervous system and turn you into a quadriplegic. If I turn it up, you'd be a vegetable. Beyond that causes death, the question is… how much juice? Do you want to leave a body or not?"

"Well, you've the largest collection of private criminal investors right in your back pocket," said the man, adjusting his tie. "Show us what we're involved in – some of us could use something capable of turning a victim to mere dust. Some of us have generational ties that go back as far as Clockwerk's guild, like the Fiendish Five. I want to see it in use, I'm sure that all of us here are interested in a demonstration."

The owl frowned then turned away to hide a scowl. "I asked for your help because I wished to know that my inventions would not be traced back to governments bent on stopping me prematurely. I should have also known that your intentions were far different from my own… alas, we all have our own list of ulterior motives." He sighed in a measure of defeat then told them, "My assistant will be back out with the handheld unit. She'll give you gentleman a demonstration in the weapon application you're seeking but I plan for it to end right there. I don't want to hear about people disappearing so shortly after going toe to toe with a crime syndicate. That's not the legacy of my science." He walked out of the room, disgusted.

A moment later, the woman returned to the room. She held a small box in each gray paw. With a flick of her left wrist, the energy core sank back into the floor and the panel doors in the floor and ceiling disappeared. The computer console on the wall returned into the bulkhead from where it came.

She stood at the top of the room, within a veil of shadows, exposing only enough of herself for them to see her silhouette. She wore a dress hat to conceal her face and a dress coat. Her right paw lifted, showing them the other object. With a press of its trigger, all the men in the room were abruptly overloaded with an entropy bombardment, removing energy matter from their bodies, leaving them as flaky hollow husks. Seconds later the group collapsed into small piles of ashes.

Her smooth voice filled the room. "I hope you gentleman enjoyed your visit, your tour and your demonstration. Unfortunately, none of you will be using this device to your own means but we thank you for your financial donations and interest in Mister Artimus Crowell's work." She pocketed the device and left the room without once stepping into the light.

A/N: Hey, guys. Lots to talk about. First of all, I'm NOT abandoning Spy Cooper. I'll put the official monologue in CHAPTER 1, because this is just a prologue and I wanted to get it posted…

Quite simply, I had this idea in my head and I wanted to roll with it. Spy Cooper WILL tie into this story – and this story will help me finish that one. I'm also NOT abandoning Reflections of Marcus McCloud. Now, I'd like to tell you all that the reason I'm doing this story is because SO MANY PEOPLE are asking me questions via email, PMs, etc, about 'Sly and Carmelita's children' and, so, I decided to just write a story.

Also, I really want to mold these kids to my own rhythm, in a sense. I think it would be neat to see how they grow up as the son and daughter of famous parents. I want to explore how they grow up as a boy and a girl who are socially removed from the world in a quiet, exclusive mansion in the Alps on the French border, far from normal schools, normal friends, etc.

Does it affect their social skills? Does it affect their maturity, judgment or their personality? Do they hold it against their parents for occasionally fighting?

Okay, so in this prologue, we see the modern day relative of Clockwerk, who mentions that the family has gone out of their way to disassociate themselves from Clockwerk up until recently. He's mortal and normal, nothing like The Sire (Lament of Carmelita) or Clockwerk, itself. No, this guy is an average mortal with above average intelligence. He's not concerned with the Cooper family like Clockwerk was. It's the last thing on his mind. Well, except the fact that Sly and Carmelita showed up off of a tip… The tip? I don't mention it in this chapter but you might want to know!

So, I'll tell you! This guy stole a rare jewel in order to make his machine work. That jewel caused information to trickle down until it arrived on Carmelita Cooper's desk. Of course, Carmelita researched the French Intel Military file from the year 1,917, which isn't a public file, but is no longer under 'top secret' status… She learned about the town that was vaporized by an owl named 'Cogwell". The jewel wound up inside of a machine that was tracked back to Cogwell's Russian town, dressed up to look more Americanized for propaganda photographs during the First World War. That's a sub-plot back-story. Anyway, she calls on her husband, Sly Cooper, to come with her to Russia for TWO REASONS.

One, he's the best jewel thief of his time. Two, he would take interest in a man distantly related to Clockwerk. So he goes along with her. Because of the nature of the target's ancestral bloodline, Sly and Carmelita leave for their trip without telling anyone. Now, this happens on November 13th of 2025. Chapter 1 will skip ahead by about 2 or 3 weeks, going into December.

It's already a third of the way finished. This story will be about the children, NOT Sly or Carmelita. Remember, I do NOT kill any canon characters unless it's reasonable. For example, doing a story in the future means that people like McSweany are either dead, or about to die because of their age. Otherwise, I do not kill Canon characters unless I have the intent of somehow bringing them back.

Finally, I want to tell you that I've not yet figured out a short story plot for 'A Cooper Christmas' just yet… I have two ideas – one is based on the twelve days of Christmas, the other is based on ringing in the New Year, which happens near Christmas time anyhow.

For those of you who like seeing Sly and Carmelita, I'll understand if you close out this story and stop reading it until much later when they reappear. For those of you who DO stick with this story, there WILL be flashbacks and conversations about Sly and Carmelita together, but they won't BE in any chapters until much later on. This is about Conner Cooper, Sly's fourteen-year-old son. It's about what happens to him. His sister, about 18 or 19 in age, will also play a part in the story but it's mostly about him.

I hope you enjoy it. After all, it was you, the reader, who requested this!

-Kit