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Sincerely
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C a r m e n S a n d i e g o -- ravens at dawn

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The woman's countenance as she watched the sun crawl out of the sea's foamy depths was calm. Still. She might have been a statue, with marble skin and raven feathers for hair, adorned in a cloak of blood red rose petals. The eyes, typically lit with the lightning of her wit, were now dark and soft.

The thief was a mirror. Everyone who knew of her perceived her in a different way, because the people they really saw when they looked at her were themselves. And so the arrogant were outraged by her flamboyant style, and the kind were confused by the gentleness they observed. This fact did not go unnoticed by Carmen, and it was a secret sadness.

There is no one who knows who I really am.

It was as much a question as it was a statement, but her only reply was the distant roar of waves attacking the cliff's bottom. It had been a long night full of carefully laid plans and a long day of delicate breaking-and-enterings. She would have been tired now, were she not so tense. Any minute now, they would be here.

An ironic smile passed fleetingly over ruby lips. They were surely even more tired than herself. If the last eighteen hours didn't go down in the annals of Acme as the agency's own Walpurgis Night, she would be extremely surprised.

Carmen usually preferred to set the tempo of her crimes to a more relaxed pace, to measure the beat with minutes or hours -- not seconds, or heartbeats. And she usually preferred to be on location for as many of the thefts in her master plans as possible. The tomb-like silence of a closed museum, the acidic shrillness of the police sirens, the carefully deposited riddle for her pursuers -- these were the quintessence of a masterfully executed crime; they were to her art as body and bouquet were to a connoisseur of fine wines.

But there was another reason why she liked to make personal appearances at her own robberies: the chance to encounter her favorite detectives. Her dialogues with them rarely went beyond three exchanges, though she would have welcomed the chance to say more. But Zack and Ivy were never far from her heels; they were smart, quick, and usually didn't care to stop and chat.

Zack was an unending source of amusement. He could amaze her, entertain her, and almost catch her. Somehow, he made his laid-back, typical teenage attitude and his colossal intellect coexist harmoniously. Carmen rather admired this about him; it was more than she had been able to manage. But what was most striking about the boy to Carmen was his comprehension of her Game. He intuitively understood that that's what her crimes were -- a game of cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek, and Trivial Pursuit. There was no malice when he chased after her, as there was with almost all of the other detectives.

His sister, Ivy, on the other hand, was something altogether different. Being pursued by her was always interesting. There was a well-hidden uncertainty about her, like a creature who isn't sure if it's the predator or the prey. Ivy had a burning desire to capture her and lock her up. She could feel it whenever the redhead was on the case, a smoldering, aching agitation that pained herself more than it would ever pain Carmen. It was a hurt so deep that it seemed personal, like an old grudge, and Carmen didn't know why. Despite this, whenever Ivy met her face-to-face, fear and doubt flickered in her evergreen eyes. Her hands twitched to clamp the cold metal cuffs over the master thief's wrists even as she was afraid to get close enough to do it. However, that fear, whatever its source, had not stopped her from doing her job -- Ivy had come closer to capturing Carmen Sandiego than anyone else. She thought she saw someone like herself in the girl. Maybe that sight goes both ways, and she sees herself in me, and is afraid of what she might become.

Carmen could list their admirable and interesting qualities from now until the evening star shone, but in truth they were not her favorites simply because they were Acme's best...

A salty breeze meandered along the terrace. Somewhere a gull cried. You're really doing this for them, you know.

The tall woman let out a hard, long breath, the closest Carmen Sandiego had come to sighing in a very long time. Although she had planned this caper down to every inconsequential detail, she had somehow managed to avoid directly confronting its raison d'etre.

She gripped the railing that ran along the cliff's edge, gazing into the swirling waters below with eyes that were every bit as blue. It was not in Carmen's nature to regret. Her philosophy for life was to carefully weigh all available options, contemplate all possible outcomes, then choose a path and never look back. Nor was it in her nature to second-guess herself. No, that was never a productive pastime; on the contrary, it was often a person's downfall. She had learned that long ago, in a past life, where she had carried a badge and played the other side of the game.

But for all her wisdom, it did not lessen the anxiety. There was a risk to this caper. A risk she had never taken before. Carmen Sandiego was about to make the most daring and original move of her career.

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A/N: Time for the requisite disclaimer. I do not own 'Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego?' If I did, various episodes, especially of the first season, would have never seen the light of production. The Carmen Sandiego franchise belongs to Broderbund, DiC, and some other people too. No money is being made from this piece of writing. Please don't sue.