Okay, so, explanation time, right? This is the first "episode" out of what's looking to be seven of a pseudo-AU Sly 6. I'm posting episodes as I finish them. This project is a side project, so progress is slow, please be patient. I am also cross-posting to Ao3 (same title without the initials in front), and right now doing quick updates to all of the chapters in prep for that switch.
On another note, the cover art is a combination of Google searches and the work of KicsterAsh over on dA. I'm going to TRY and use her for the character depictions for all the episodes, wish me luck there.
The update schedule for this fic is my new update schedule for any fic I post: Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday. And with that, let's get on with the story!
Disclaimer: All canon characters belong to someone else, I only own the original characters and some of the ways I've depicted the canon characters. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit is earned from this work of fiction, all rights reserved.
First Meeting
If anyone was to look up—and few people did—they would have seen a most peculiar sight. A male raccoon in his prime with an odd looking cane, eyeing the museum like it was a piece of candy. The blue of his tunic and the yellow and red bits of his tools, especially the gold crook on his cane, should have made him stand out, yet instead he seemed to blend effortlessly into the shadows. He'd tied a cloth mask over his face, hiding the natural mask his markings gave him.
For those who knew what to look for, he was easily identified as a member of the famous Cooper family. For those who kept up with the news of the criminal underworld, they would know him as the last of his line, Sly Cooper, the leader of the Cooper Gang.
And even if they didn't know all of that, there were little things they would notice. He looked…tired, somehow. He was all wiry muscle made from survival rather than pure training. There was something about him that was worn, though what it was remained unknown to those who didn't know him well.
Perching on the spire of the roof, using his tail for the necessary balance, Sly looked over the city streets—his city streets—and couldn't help the slight sigh of contentment that left him. The last few years had been…insane. And he was home. Finally, finally home. He'd been lost for so long… It had only been a few weeks here, hardly more than a handful of months. For him? It had been almost a year. Bentley had explained why he hadn't physically aged, thanks to time travel and paradoxes. Mentally was a different score.
It was habit now to pull a heist before he was allowed to sleep, to relax and feel at least slightly secure. Even if he went straight back to the hideout, he'd keep the turtle and hippo awake until he dropped dead from exhaustion around noon tomorrow (or was it today? His sense of time was shot, obviously). One little heist… Bentley and Murray had even taken the night off, exhausted from the adventure to bring him home and content to be happy that he was back for a few days. This was a simple job, just grabbing a museum piece, an Aboriginal mask that had been acquired with less than legal methods to begin with. The Guru would be more than happy to return it to its proper owners…once Sly got his hands on it. It would let him rest, and serve as the beginning of the warning to the world. Sly Cooper was back.
He jumped from the spire to the flag pole, one of many lining the museum front. Sly crouched there, patiently waiting for the spot-light to move so he could jump to the next. He had expected security to be light… Or well, at least lighter than it was now. The Cooper Gang had left Paris alone ever since La Paradox, mostly because Sly had been lost.
He edged away from those memories, as well as why there had been a three-year dry spell before that. Carmelita still wasn't really talking to him.
Sly focused on the next series of jumps and climbs up to the museum skylight. He would have thought they would close these up. But then, natural light was best for some of the museum features. He'd learned during his time in Egypt something Bentley must have always known—when it came to security versus ideal lighting, lighting usually won for some reason.
He found the skylight that was outside of the security for the mask. There was another directly over it, but he needed to deactivate the system first. Normally Bentley's job, but Sly knew a few tricks of his own. Snipping the wire of the alarm attached to the skylight, he lifted it slowly and jumped down into the dark of the museum.
The only light came from the occasional security light, the flashlights of the guards running patrol, and the full moon overhead. Plenty to see by. Sly darted into the room he wanted.
His recon told him the mask was hanging on a far wall with pressure-sensitive alarms lining it. He jumped up over another sculpture to reach the security terminal. He hit a couple of keys to wake up the system.
Only it didn't respond. Frowning, Sly pulled out his binocucom, switching it to a different setting to get a good look for sensors.
None lit up on his screen.
Had the guards not set the security alarm? That didn't sit right with Sly. He walked over to the mask to check it out.
Hanging from the hook wasn't the carved, wooden, ancient mask that he had seen hanging there just a few hours earlier.
Gingerly, Sly reached out and grabbed the item dangling there, staring incredulously. It was a porcelain volto mask, gilded in gold leaf and painted in bits of deep red-violet in a complex design. Small amethysts studded it in places—Sly recognized them as low quality, small gems that would be cheap to buy off of a jeweler. A thin green, silk if he were to guess, ribbon had been sewed into place on each side, tied into a knot towards the top, and then the ribbon had been looped so it could be hung on the hook.
It was possibly the most ornate calling card he had ever seen. And he was a Cooper, he'd seen almost everything.
A shadow passed over his face, reminding him of what he had always laughed at guards over. No one looking up. Cursing mentally, he glanced up, just in time to see a hint of a tail disappear over the edge of the skylight. Looks like he wasn't too far behind his mystery rival. Smirking, Sly spun his cane. He had a rookie to teach a few lessons to.
Climbing up to the skylight, Sly leapt out of the opening left for him. Twisting his head around, he managed to catch the blonde tip of a tail as it darted over the edge of the museum. He's fast, the Cooper realized, unaware of the slight smile that was on his face. Maybe this could be a little fun…
He had to avoid security lights, but he managed to reach the street level with little problem. Rounding the corner, he actually caught a full-look at, well, at the tail rather than just the tip of it. It was definitely blonde and bushy…and were those stripes? Some kind of cat, Sly thought in annoyance. Cats were the worst to deal with, as those sword dancers in Arabia had taught him.
Sly was wondering how long this thief was going to stay on the street as he darted into an alley after them—street-level was never a good idea while carrying loot. And then he caught his first good look at who he was changing.
It was no he, that was obvious. Slight she might be, but there was no mistaking the curves of a young female…something, he was sticking with cat unless proven otherwise, even if her ears weren't right. Her light blonde hair was pulled into a French braid except for a few strands that framed her ears and face…or would have, if it wasn't covered with a larger version of the same mask Sly had found at the museum. Black mesh covered the eyes, making it impossible for him to see in while letting the wearer still see out. He could barely see the gold-blonde of her facial fur around it. And that was the only place he could see it. She was completely covered from the neck down in practical clothing that wouldn't stand out on the street and yet blended in to the darkness.
Sly moved to intercept her, just as she pulled something from beside her that he hadn't seen earlier.
It was a cane.
His heart stilled.
It was a Cooper cane. The gold hook was distinctive, unique to the family. Only problem was, there was no other family. Sly knew this—his parents had been the end of the line, with no siblings or cousins. It's how he had ended up in the orphanage after their murder. No one else other than him should have a cane. Hell, he hadn't even gotten around to designing his own so this cane could go into the vault with his father's portrait where it belonged.
How did this little snit of a thing get her hands on one? He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, but he swallowed it down. Getting angry wouldn't do anything but make him jump into a decision. Egypt had beat that much into his head.
The little thief hadn't noticed him. She hit…something…on the cane, and the crook flew, up to the roof top she had been aiming for. A thin wire trailed behind it. She'd modified the cane into a grappling gun, or had someone do it for her. Who did she think she was? Sly darted forward, but it was too late. The rest of the cane was following the crook up to the roof, taking the female thief with it.
He glared up after her for just a second before glancing around. There, a pipe leading up. Not the most stable of resources, but it would do. He used his own cane to get the necessary height and climbed up to the roof.
Sliding the rest of the way down the rooftop edge, Sly took the chance to outdistance her. She was shorter than him it seemed, giving him just enough of an advantage. Before she could jump to the next rooftop, he was in striking distance. Using his crook, he grabbed her waist and yanked her back. To her credit she didn't even squeal as he threw her back to the center of the roof.
That didn't mean she was quiet. "Sugah, there are better ways to get my attention," she scolded. Or at least, he thought she scolded. He had no facial expression to read, which was throwing him off more than he wanted to admit.
Inwardly, he cringed. He'd gotten rid of his French accent so his nationality would remain a mystery for the most part. But that didn't mean he liked this butchering of it that he recognized from his trips to America—Arcadian.
He pushed his annoyance to the side. "I don't argue with what works." Sly didn't give her a chance to try and run from him again. Extending his reach, he got a grip on her elbow and forced her to sidestep so she was pressed against the side of the stair's encasing. When she moved to dart to the side, he purposefully let some of the rage out. Sly slammed his free hand on the other side of that fragile mask. He was not in the mood for a game. "The cane. Where did you get it?"
She surprised him by reaching up to press her hand against his chest, leaning forward a little instead of away from him. "Manners, sugah," she continued to scold lightly. "We ain't even been introduced yet." Her fingers reached up and tickled his chin before he realized she had moved. "And I'd remember seein' such a handsome raccoon around these parts."
Sly jerked back away from her hand enough so he could reach out and grab it. "Knock it off, kitty. I already have a girl." And he was going to be in enough trouble with Carmelita without her finding out about a lady thief flirting with him.
He could feel the tension enter her body, just from his grip on her wrist. But without her face to read, he had no idea what it was from. "I'm as feline as you are, sugah," she drawled, leaning forward again. Rather than her hand, he felt the wood of her cane press into his stomach. "And there ain't a lady alive that likes bein' manhandled."
"What makes you a lady?" he snipped back, purposefully tightening his grip even as part of his brain tried to figure out what else had a blonde fur and a fluffy striped tail besides a cat. "All I see is a thief using a tool that belongs only to the Cooper family. Meaning you stole it, and I want to know from where."
"That must make you Sly Cooper then," she mused softly, continuing to ignore his demands. "Folks were talkin' like you and yer gang were retired again. Paris was up for the takin'. Much like this cane was when I found it. Ain't that the first rule of thieves, Cooper? Finders keepers?"
Sly opened his mouth to argue with her.
He wasn't prepared for her to sweep the crook of the cane at his ankles, knocking his feet out from underneath him. She should have gone down with him, but… Sly landed on his side with a grunt, but didn't hear a similar sound anywhere around him…and there was something still in his hand. Rolling on to his back, he held whatever it was in front of his face to get a better look.
It was the glove the she-thief had been wearing.
Jerking into an upright position, he saw that she had made it to the roof's edge. There was no way he could make it to her in time.
"Paris is mine now, Cooper," she called out to him. "If yah wanted it so badly, then yah never should have left." And then the so-called lady back flipped in a—as much as it killed Sly to admit it—graceful twist over to the other roof before vanishing completely from his line of sight.
Like I had wanted to leave! Sly's anger threatened to boil over. When give the option of either dying in a fiery blimp crash or being lost in time, he thought he'd made the best of lousy choices. But it seemed like no one was agreeing with him. Well, he didn't have to take flack for it from a complete stranger that looked like she ought to still be in a schoolroom somewhere.
He scrambled up to his feet to track her down again. But a familiar sound reached his ears. Turning his head to the side, he could clearly see the red and blue lights of the police flooding over the gold of the streetlights and silver of the moon, gaudy and attention grabbing. Sly looked back to where the she-thief had vanished and let out a curse he'd picked up from Tennessee "Kid" Cooper during his short stint in the Wild West. She might have won this battle, but he'd win the war. Just like he always did. He darted across the rooftops and streetlights to the safety of the old hide-out.
And completely missed the figure hiding in the shadows a few buildings over on a higher ledge.
Tossing her braid over her shoulder, Lady glared at the end of the balance beam. She was still upset with that… that… idiot Cooper! Her, a feline? Honestly! Did she look like une chatte? Did he somehow not know what an albino of his own species look like? Her tail swished behind her in her agitation as well as to assist her balance. Absently, she pulled it in front of her, running her hands over the faint, lighter blonde stripes there, to sooth herself if nothing else.
Besides, this was old anger, a waste of energy. She'd taken a very hot bath as soon as she had gotten home, adjusting to being without her trade-mark mask as she turned from thief into a normal female raccoon. Her thieving clothes had been covered in roof-grime, no thanks to Cooper's rough-housing. No way was she putting those back on. An old t-shirt and yoga pants were still clean, and would let her practice this new maneuver before bed without needing to change clothes again.
Even if the constantly slipping shoulder was driving her nuts. Lady tugged at it, even though she knew it was hopeless.
At least a few good things had happened tonight. One was obvious. She glanced over at her little collection. The Aboriginal mask looked much better there than it did in some stuffy museum. It somehow slipped Cooper's notice that it wasn't on her person during their fight. And if he didn't know what she had done with it, she wasn't going to tell him. It had arrived shortly after her bath.
The other was less so. Frowning, Lady twisted her cane—supposedly a tool unique to the Cooper family, though she found that hard to swallow—and looked a little more carefully at the set-up she'd made after her meeting with the final member of the Cooper family. She had noticed that he'd had skills she didn't. Even with such a lovely distraction…
She hadn't been lying when she'd called him handsome. But that didn't mean a thing if he was a Cooper. Pretentious stuck-ups, the lot of them. Thought because they stole from other thieves, it made them better than others, like her or Yvenne. Her heart ached remembering the teacher she had lost after far too little time. She was near-certain that, if given enough time, Yvenne would have been able to teach her just as many tricks as this Cooper raccoon knew.
But Lady had other means. She'd never finished formal schooling, but she wasn't an idiot. It didn't take her long to learn any skill Yvenne had given her to figure out. And Sly had been showing off just enough that she thought she had the trick to one of his fancy moves down.
So she'd put a series of small points at the end of the balance beam for her to try that spire-jumping bit. Only unlike when she was training with Yvenne, she'd lined the floor with mats so if she took a fall, she wouldn't be nearly as bruised. And her hip still ached from that last fall.
But this time, she had it. She knew she did. Now she just had to prove it to herself.
Flicking her tail back behind her, Lady braced herself and then took off at a run. At the end of the balance-beam, she flipped on to the palm of her hands and launched herself up into the air. Twisting again in mid-air, she fell feet-first on to the first spire and landed. She didn't wait and continued to flip her way along the spires. She was doing it! Stopping on the last one, she balanced there for a moment and smiled.
And immediately slipped to the side, moving into a tumble before she hurt herself on the way down.
Flopping down on the mat she landed on with a thump, Lady scowled at the ceiling for only a moment as she caught her breath. She'd had it! She was so sure! She just couldn't stay up there like he could. "Merde!" she hissed in annoyance, slamming her open palms against the mat just for the sound. It made her feel better, at least a little.
She reluctantly stood up and walked over to the glass doors leading to her balcony. Walking outside, she watched as the sun rose over Paris. Leaning on the railing, she sighed softly. It had taken everything she'd earned and saved to make this move and set herself up. There was no going back, even if the Cooper Gang wasn't as retired as everyone on ThiefNet seemed to think.
She let her mouth thin into a line. She would just have to see if she could learn more of these tricks. Another meeting with Cooper might be in order.
Stepping out of the shower, Sly rubbed furiously at his coat to get all of the water out of it as he stewed. The mission that was supposed to ease his hair-trigger senses had been a bust. The hot water had eased the resulting tense muscles, but his brain was still twisting and turning even if he didn't have a puzzle to tire it out.
The only puzzle he had to try and tear apart was that she-thief who decided to crash his heist. He still couldn't think of what she was. The only creature besides a cat that had a striped tail like that was a raccoon like him. But not only had he not seen another raccoon in his entire life besides his parents (not counting time travel), but he knew there was no such thing as a blonde raccoon. It didn't make any sense!
He walked back into his bedroom on the second floor of the otherwise abandoned townhouse that had served as the gang's hideout since they left the orphanage. It was the closest thing he had to a home of his own, and the only place he had where he felt remotely safe.
A rasping sound caught his attention. Freezing, Sly reached for the cane…only to remember that it was leaning against the wall. Damn it.
The balcony door opened. "Ringtail!" a familiar Spanish voice growled.
Sly's breath left in a whoosh. "Carmelita," he breathed in relief. Not an enemy, not someone that was going to lock him up, not someone that was going to kill him.
The rasping sound of the shock pistol's electric charge caught his ears. Okay, at least theoretically wasn't going to kill him.
He held up his hands, taking a step back defensively. "Easy does it, Carmelita. I can explain—"
"Shut up, Cooper!" she snapped as she stepped fully into the dim lighting of the room. She already had that cursed pistol of hers drawn. Sometimes, Sly wondered if she slept with it. He hadn't noticed when they'd lived together, but she'd also thought he'd lost his memories and might not have felt the need to keep it on her whenever she was around him. "You had time to try and pull a heist, but you didn't stop to tell me that you were still alive?"
Oh for the love of… Rubbing the corners of his eyes, he immediately stopped being on the defense. This… This was ridiculous. "Hold it!" He held up one hand and glared at her. She looked surprised, and he supposed he couldn't blame her. He had always been the one pushing for them to be in a relationship, and he had even claimed to understand what she had meant and felt the same before the final fight with Paradox.
But Egypt had been a wake-up call. He'd had to handle things on his own, and could no longer afford to play it safe and defensive. He wasn't going to fall back into that bad habit now. "I literally just got back from dealing with dust devils and all sorts of trouble that I do not want to get into right now. There is still sand in my ears! And I had to deal with some thief who claims to be a lady at the same time who also has…something she shouldn't." Sly was not bringing Carmelita into Cooper business again, not without more information. "Can you not give me twenty-four hours?"
"Not when those twenty-four hours means you are going to be stealing before letting me know you are alive!"
Sly, for the first time ever, was tempted to hit her. "I didn't want to pull a heist as the first thing I did back in my own time. How could you think that?" he snapped at her. "You want the truth? The first thing I wanted was a chance to sleep somewhere I knew was safe! But I can't sleep anymore unless I've pulled a heist." He deflated a little. "I've… changed, Carmelita. Things happened. I need time to adjust."
"And what about all the time I thought you had died in that blimp crash?" she reminded him. "Doesn't that mean anything?"
It should have meant something to him that she had been worried. But all he felt was exhaustion. He stared at Carmelita blankly.
She crossed her arms, equally refusing to budge. "What thief?" she managed to ask between her teeth.
Of course, that's what she latched on to. Annoyed, Sly waved one of his hands dismissively. "Some female. Blonde, no clue on her face. She had a full-mask—"
"A white and gold one, with amethysts."
Sly frowned, crossing his arms. "Yeah…" he said slowly. "You familiar with her?"
"A new arrival who has been giving us trouble. I'll update her file. You don't need to worry about her." Carmelita informed him, equally as dismissive. She was glaring at him still. "She's said to be a flirt."
Really? She was going to be jealous of some girl he didn't even know, after chewing him out for not coming to see her first? Sly could hear his own teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw so tight. "I didn't notice," he managed to half-growl at her.
Before he could continue in what was going to be an angry tirade that the Interpol officer (maybe) didn't deserve, there was a knock at the door before Bentley rolled right in. Not surprising, there wasn't a lock in the house since there was no point with everyone sans Murray able to pick one and Murray capable of breaking down a door.
"What is all the noise?" he asked with a yawn. Unlike Sly, he'd already been asleep. He froze when he saw the Mexican fox standing in the middle of Sly's room. And Sly wasn't sure he liked the look in Bentley's eye when he took a glance at him… Oh, wait. He was only in towel. He glared at the turtle and subtly shook his head. No, it wasn't as bad as it looked. Clearing his throat, Bentley looked pointedly back at their guest. "Oh, hi Carmelita," he amended with an awkward wave. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your little tête-a-tête." He rolled out of the door.
Unfortunately, Carmelita took that as an invitation that Bentley probably wasn't expecting. "There is no tête-a-tête," she growled with a pointed look at Sly. "Good day." And she stomped past Bentley into the hallway. Sly didn't doubt that she already knew her way to the front door.
Bentley adjusted his glasses, and then eventually looked back at the stewing raccoon. "Um—"
"Yes," Sly answered the question before his best friend could even ask it. His jaw hurt from keeping his anger in check, and damn it all if all of those muscles hadn't just tensed up all over again. "We are still mad at each other." And not feeling the least bit apologetic, Sly slammed his bedroom door to try and hint that he needed to be left alone.
He stomped back in the direction of his shower. More hot water, hopefully a little sleep, and then he had a heist to plan to lure this "lady" into the open. Maybe if he dealt with that problem, he could then get back to what he should be doing. Even if delaying his conversation with Carmelita just upset her more. Her bruised ego could be dealt with later just fine.
In the hallway, Bentley stared at the door and fidgeted in a way he hadn't in years, not since he had survived being on his own for a little while himself. "Oh dear… This is not going to end well…" he muttered before slowly rolling back to his room.
une chatte—a female cat
Merde—French expletive, meaning varies by context
tête-a-tête—literally means head-to-head, actually means having a private, intimate conversation