EDIT (05.30.12): Due to some noted concerns, I've gone ahead and edited this chapter, and others, just to get rid of some of the problems. The story hasn't changed at all so no worries to old readers, but just giving a heads up if one of you happen to go back and re-read Chapter 1, 2, and now, 3 and happen to notice some differences.

Hello, hello. Here's going to be an attempt at writing a full story saga and stuff. Not sure how it'll go, but the idea kept coming back and refused to leave me until I ended up writing scenes that won't even appear until far later into this story.

So here we are. Hope you all enjoy the ride!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sly Cooper and friends. They are owned by SuckerPunch.

Chapter 1: Game Over 1

At 5 AM, Bentley Turtle hardly believed he would be awake and opening the door for an unexpected visitor. If someone had told him that this was how his evening would go, he would have laughed in their faces. For one, it was very late, and the disabled turtle had a job to be at in 3 hours. And for another, Bentley and Penelope weren't exactly the most social of people. The few they interact with regularly would have come around at a decent hour, and certainly not before calling. Not that the couple had been in constant touch with any of them in the last few months now, but they knew them all well enough to know this was not the case.

Fearing the worst, Bentley grabbed one of the smoke bombs he usually kept on his person at all times. If the situation got out of hand, he was prepared to throw the device down, grab Penelope, and escape their apartment. Some old habits die hard, and the turtle had become accustomed to being armed somewhat even when at his job.

When he opened the door, the genius turtle shivered in his wheelchair, now wanting to kick himself (ironically enough) for not wearing something warmer to bed. The chill that greeted him nearly stole his breath away, but what really made his jaw drop in shock and render him speechless, was who was standing on his doorstep.

"S-Sly?" Bentley stammered, bewildered. "Why - who - where-?"

Completely blown away by the fact Sly Cooper of all people was standing at the threshold of his apartment stole Bentley of any comprehensible words.

Sly, a long time friend and brother, gave a sheepish grin while lifting a paw in greeting. The icy cold wind tore at the lithe raccoon's body, making him shiver. He was sporting a simple pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, much to Bentley's surprise. Even as the raccoon stood there, another swell of wind blew a few leaves into Bentley's apartment, reminding the turtle of how cold it really was.

Once Bentley was able to swallow his shock, he asked, "what are you doing here?"

The raccoon scratched his chin for a moment before chuckling. "Just thought I'd come by for a… visit."

Eye narrowing, Bentley crossed his arms across his chest. "It's been 2 months since we last saw each other, and you decided that now was an appropriate time to drop in for a visit?"

His voice carried that calculating and doubtful tone Sly knew so well; he'd missed it.

"Some uhh… circumstances came up," Sly shrugged. When he did so, Sly let out a small hiss of pain, and he stopped before the action pulled any further. The sharp intake of breath made Bentley's eyebrows raise in worry.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Why are you even here?" he asked in a flurry of words. Another gust of wind pushed more leaves into the apartment, making the turtle jump when he realized where he was having this conversation with his friend. "Sorry Sly. Come on in. But you need to tell me what's going on."

Sly nodded gratefully, and stepped over the threshold into the small hallway. To his right he spotted a small kitchen, with a few appliances tucked away in the corners, and white cabinets. As Bentley shut the door, ignoring the leaves on the floor (he'd sweep those later), he ushered Sly deeper into the apartment. Wheeling himself towards the living room, he flipped on a lamp and winced when the bright light made his tired eyes ache.

The raccoon seemed indifferent to the sudden change in light. If anything, he was wide awake, and the way his body tensed gave the appearance that Sly was ready to bolt at any second. This made Bentley want to sit him down and question everything that happened even more.

True, they had met a handful of times over the course of the year, however Sly decided that it was best they stopped their little rendezvous, incase they were caught. And mostly to throw Carmelita off his tail. Their last 'poker game' (as aptly named by Sly himself), was nearly 2 months ago, and although Bentley missed his friend, he was too exhausted to interrogate Sly right this moment. He decided to ask a few questions, and then head off to bed to nab at least another hour of sleep before heading off to work.

Sly sat himself on one of the two couches in the living room. He glanced around at the cozy abode, noticing that everything was properly organized, and clean. Most likely the hand of Penelope, as Bentley wasn't exactly the most organized guy when it came to living quarters. Mess with his plans, and computers though, and the turtle wasn't beyond tossing a bomb at the offending person; which in most cases ended up being Sly himself.

"So," Bentley started as he wheeled himself into the kitchen to grab a cup of water for his friend. "What brings you around at this time? Which, by the way, a call would have been much appreciated."

A wistful grin appeared on his face, before the raccoon sighed, and hung his head. "A few things have come up that I can't really avoid anymore. Let's just say, not everything is going to plan."

Bentley came back with a frown on his face, and handed his friend the cup. "What do you mean?"

Sly took a moment to drain the cup in one gulp. "Haven't you heard about those robberies going around?"

The turtle took a moment to think back. He wasn't one to read newspapers, or watch the news every day like some people. Some would say Bentley was out of the loop on a lot of things - something he wouldn't argue against. The only times he'd actually kept up with the news, was during their thieving days, and that was only because Sly wanted to read what newspapers said about him, and would then leave the papers lying about everywhere in their safe houses. Maybe he'd heard one or two things, but not enough to dwell about it. "I haven't. Sorry, Sly."

"If you did, it would save me a lot of time you know," Sly smiled tiredly. "Anyway, there's been a ton of robberies going around. And it seems like each time there is, they find one of my calling cards."

At this notion, Bentley straightened in his wheelchair. His eyes widened behind his glasses, and he uttered a simple, "what?"

"Yeah," Sly laughed. "Of course, I haven't stolen anything in months now, but unfortunately, Interpol isn't very easy to convince. I did manage to get them off my back for a bit, but… now it seems like the evidence is pointing directly at me."

"What else have they found? Any fingerprints?"

Sly shook his head. In the short time he had been speaking with Bentley, Sly had managed to relax. He'd even been slouching against the cushions, but now that he was talking about this, he was tense again. It was obvious that the raccoon was under a lot of stress because of this problem. "Nope. No fingerprints. No surveillance footage either. Just nothing. The only thing they leave behind is one of my calling cards."

Bentley cursed under his breath. This was a very serious problem indeed.

"I'm about this close-" Sly continued by holding two fingers apart by about an inch, "-to being arrested. It's only because I've managed to convince the higher ups at Interpol that I'm innocent, that I'm not in jail right now. But the evidence is piling up and my alibis are sounding weaker by the day."

If Bentley still had the use of his legs, he would have been pacing worriedly right about now. All he could do was sit in his chair, and scowl at a spot on the floor, deep in thought. Silence fell between the two, as they both began to think of any possible solutions to this current predicament.

"There is one other thing though," Sly piped up again, breaking Bentley out of his thoughts. "Carmelita said she saw me running away from a break-in at a museum tonight."

"What?"

Sly chuckled at seeing Bentley's face. The turtle's normally bright green face had paled, with the small spots of dark green spattered across his beak-like nose standing out. Sly could only imagine how wide Bentley's eyes were behind those absurdly huge glasses he wore. It never failed to bring a smile to Sly's face when he saw Bentley panic over something. True, Sly himself was panicking about this entire mess - not that he would ever actually show it - but now that he had someone to help that actually believed him, he could actually calm down somewhat. These last few weeks had been hell for Sly. From constantly being afraid someone would realize all the holes in his amnesia story, to being afraid Carmelita would find out, and to now being threatened with a jail sentence.

For crimes he wasn't even committing no less.

Bentley pushed his glasses up his nose, and said shakily, "t-that's unexpected, and new."

The raccoon nodded, and leaned back on the couch again. "Normally I'd say it was a trick of the light or something, but Carmelita was so set on it being me, I… kind of got chased out of my apartment tonight."

"Hmm…" Bentley went quiet, thinking again. Finally, after a few terse minutes he said, "do you have any leads at all?"

It was Sly's turn to think, and he sat up again, looking tense and serious. "There's been a few cops actually, who aren't very happy I'm at Interpol. Although, the last thing I want to do is suspect them."

"Without any other leads, that's probably the best thing we have to go on though," sighed Bentley. "If you give me their names, I can probably research a few things, and check their backgrounds out for you."

Sly brightened. "You'd really do that for me?"

"What are brothers for?" Bentley grinned.

A swell of emotions tightened Sly's throat, and he cleared it in embarrassment. It made him think back on the many adventures they'd gone through, and back to one of the few heists they'd pulled at Happy Camper Orphanage years and years ago. Sly had actually said the very same thing to Bentley before, and it was apparent the words had stuck with the disabled turtle to this day.

"Thanks pal," Sly said in the sincerest way possible.

Bentley nodded, grabbed a pad of paper, and pen from the table and slid them over to Sly. "Just write down the names for me here, and I'll start researching their backgrounds." While Sly wrote down the names in a hurried scrawl, Bentley took the chance to look at the clock, and saw that it was now half past 5, which meant he had just a bit more time to go and catch another nap. Bentley had already decided to call in sick to work so that he could help his friend in his current situation.

"Look, it's kind of late for me to do any research," Bentley said while turning back to Sly. "I'll take the day off work, and you can stay here if you want. I'm pretty sure Inspector Fox might be out looking for you right now, and well… she might not be willing to listen to much reason."

Sly paused in his writing. He tapped the pen against his chin, but shook his head in the end. "It'd probably look more suspicious if I didn't go back into work tomorrow - uh - today I mean."

Bentley raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure Inspector Fox won't arrest you? She certainly didn't hesitate in all those years she chased us."

"Yeah, well…" Sly muttered as he finished off writing down the names. "I'll deal with it when it comes. At this point, doing anything out of the ordinary will have my tail in jail."

"You're right," sighed Bentley. He took the proffered pad of paper and looked down critically at it. "Sly, these are a lot of names."

Sly shrugged, and chuckled. "Let's just say I'm really good at making friends."

The turtle simply shook his head, and placed the pad on his knees. He wheeled himself to a small closet by the door, and pulled out a blanket, then wheeled back to toss it at Sly. "Well, since you can't really go back to your apartment at the moment, take a nap here until you need to go into work. I'll let Penelope know what's going on when she wakes up."

Taking the blanket, and tossing it around his shoulders, Sly gave his disabled friend a thumbs up. "Sounds like a plan. You know, I've really missed listening to them. Maybe one day you can tell me a bed time story about them? It's been a while since I've had a really good nap like that."

Bentley snorted, and turned to go back to his bedroom. "Good night, Sly."

Sly waved a paw and grabbed one of the cushions to make his stay on the couch a bit comfier.

As he settled back to try and get some more sleep, many thoughts ran through his head. The idea that someone was out to get him, and pull the life he now had back from his grasp was bothering him immensely. It felt like a constant itch in his throat he couldn't get rid of no matter how many times he cleared it. There were a ton of enemies he had, both from his thieving days, and from being a cop, so it was hard to know who exactly was trying to frame him.

Sighing, he turned to glower at the wall, as though it had personally wronged him. It was still dark outside, but light was filtering in through the partially closed blinds from the streetlights outside and from the rising sun in the distance. A check of his watch told him that it was now 6 AM, which meant in about 2 hours he would need to be back at work.

A grimace graced his features at the idea.

Going back meant having to face Carmelita again, and just that prospect made him want to lie on the couch forever. At the very least, Bentley had accepted him back without much protest, but Sly felt just a bit guilty for suddenly showing up out of the blue again. If it were Sly in Bentley's shoes, he would have accepted either of his friends back without a second thought. Silently, he wondered if Murray would be called back into this too, and somehow that prospect was even less appealing than it was pulling Bentley into this mess.

He'd had no choice though, and even with that thought in mind, he was regretting running to Bentley, like a child would, for a solution.

Sly grabbed a pillow, and smothered himself in it while growling angrily.

This was not how everything was supposed to go.

Hm. Let's see which direction this'll go off to… I'm pretty excited to get this story rolling, so let me know what you all think!

Until next chapter.