A/N: We have a bit of a surprise for everyone.
Pen: A good story?
Nope! Er- I mean yes! Or I hope everyone thinks it is. No, this story is going to be a oneshot without the lyrics. The song that inspired this is I'm Yours by Jason Mraz. All characters are owned by Sucker Punch.
Sword: Let's do it!
We proudly bring you-
Merry Christmas, I'm Yours
On a cold December afternoon, when the entire city of Paris was alight with bustling crowds of shoppers and Christmas carols filling the chilly air, Sly Cooper sat atop a rooftop, crouched in a position of a readiness to pounce if needed and to keep himself hidden from the townsfolk below.
Sly's eyes did not focus on the people below however. They firmly rested on his target of interest: the Paris Interpol Station, which was just a few acrobatic jumps across the rooftops over. A pristine and proud, yet dreary building, the thief could make out a lone figure through a frostbitten window that showed one of the upper offices.
From his position, he could not see very much inside due to other buildings standing in his view, so, taking advantage of his crouched stance, he hopped to the next building, hooking his trusty cane into a water drain running along the side of its roof. Sly pulled himself up easily and jumped from rooftop to rooftop until he reached one next to the station. He perched on the edge, careful to place his feet on stable shingles, wrapped his scarf around himself tighter, and pulled out his binocucom.
Sly scanned the station's large windows, searching for one particular office as he shifted his weight on the roof. He eventually stopped at one particular window, just a one floor above his current height. He put away his binocucom and searched his surroundings for something to boost him up higher. He spotted a chimney with smoke curling out of it and was instantly on top of it. Now he could clearly see into the window.
With his binocucom out once again, Sly observed the inside of the police station through the window. Yet all he could see was an office. It was not particularly well-furnished. A few simple filing cabinets that seemed to be overused so much that folders threatened to burst out. And a desk strewn with papers and a uncomfortably hard chair. Sly frowned slightly as he realized just how cramped it must have seemed as well.
Hunched over in the desk's chair, slaving away at the stacks of folders and papers, was Inspector Carmelita Fox. It had been a while since Sly had given her the slip on one of his many heists and he had decided to see how she was holding up. From the looks of things from Sly's view, it seemed like the dedicated detective was swamped with work.
Carmelita pushed herself away from the desk and massaged her temples to stave off the oncoming headache. "I need some fresh air," Sly heard her mutter through his binocucom. She stood up, grabbed a coat off a nearby rack, and headed out the door, leaving Sly with a golden opportunity.
"Hm, I really shouldn't," Sly commented to himself, as he put his binocucom away and leapt over to the station. The agile raccoon grabbed a ledge and climbed up to the window of Carmelita's office. He carefully slid it open and hopped inside. "But I could at least make sure her door is locked," he said aloud as he slunk to the office door and jiggled the knob, making sure it was shut tight. "After all, thievery around here is common. You can't be too careful."
Sly walked back over to the desk and proceeded to shuffle around the papers. Most of it seemed to be bills and notices. One particular sheet caught his eye, which he picked up and scanned. It was a letter from the chief of police and had to do with several people being laid off or having their pay cut due to the low crime rate. "Cutting back on resources," Sly mumbled to himself as he read further. "Not really needed...Several laid off...Can't afford-"
"Sly! Are you finished?" a loud voice from his binocucom asked. Sly pulled it out to see Bentley's face appear. "Do you have the photos of the surveillance camera positions?"
Sly nodded. "Got 'em right here Bentley." He pressed a few buttons on the binocucom and transferred the pictures he had taken for their big heist tonight.
"Good. With these pictures, we should have an easy time tonight. Come on back to the hideout and we'll come up with a game plan."
"In a minute," Sly told him. "I'm checking up on something. Sly out." He slipped the binocucom back into his pouch and glanced back at the paper. It went on to detail how Carmelita's pay had been docked several times, mostly due to her inability to catch the elusive racoon and the lack of criminals lately.
Sly set the paper back down and twirled his cane around in thought. He knew that his escapes had always caused Carmelita a lot of grief, but not enough that it would matter this much. It had always been the assumption that he was considered uncatchable, but as long as Carmelita did her job, then the bosses would be pleased. According to the letter, this was not the case. He felt like he should do something to relieve the pressure from her.
He re-read the letter again, but smiled this time as his brain hatched a plan. But before he could finalize it, the floor thumped with footsteps coming to the door. Sly quickly replaced the letter and jumped out the window to one of the rooftops. After landing, he took off in a sprint for the hideout Bentley had set up in a small corner of the city. All the way there, Sly kept going over his idea and the more he did, the more he was determined to put it into action that night.
"See you tonight," he said over his shoulder, directing it at the police station.
A thundering smash through the wall followed by blaring alarms signaled that unauthorized people had broken into the museum. Or in this case, out of the museum. Out of the newly formed hole and rubble surrounding it stepped Murray, flexing his beefy arms and punching his fist into his hand. "No puny wall can stand before the might of 'The Murray'!" he boasted to the chilly night air.
Bentley hovered out of the hole in the wall in his wheelchair and coughed at the swirling dust running into his throat. "Great job Murray!" He turned back to the hole and beckoned at it. "C'mon Sly! We got what we came for! Let's go!"
Sly called out from inside. "You guys go ahead. I'll meet you at the van. I have some unfinished business."
"What!" Bentley's voice rose with panic. "What do you me-" But nearby police sirens cut him off, crying over the museum's alarms.
Murray grabbed the handles of Bentley's wheelchair and began to push. "C'mon buddy. We need to move! Let Sly do what he needs to do!" He ran off, calling over his shoulder at the raccoon. "I'll bring the van around!"
Carmelita's car pulled up to the scene of the Louvre Museum, tires screeching to a standstill, and the detective herself stepped out. Instantly her teeth began chattering, so she reached inside the police car and pulled out a long overcoat to cover her simple attire of a green turtleneck and jeans. After putting it on, she walked over to a uniformed goose, who was overseeing the police forces by shouting orders to cover all the exits and to stay outside.
She tapped him on the shoulder and flashed her badge. She tersely introduced herself with, "Inspector Fox. Interpol," before scanning the museum itself. "What's the situation?" she asked the officer while fixating her eyes on the building.
"We have reports of several pieces of art stolen. Sources from our teams say that it's the work of the Cooper Gang or the Statue Bandit. Probably both," the officer informed her.
Carmelita's eyes widened at the mention of Sly's troupe of thieves. "Cooper," she hissed under her breath. She turned back to the goose and nodded. "Alright. Tell everyone here to keep holding their positions. I'm going in."
She drew her trusted shock pistol and held it vertically next to her head as she slowly climbed the steps to the front of the museum and entered it. She glanced back quickly to note that the entire police force outside with their guns trained on the door before she continued on. After heading down several empty, quiet hallways, and reaching a few dead ends, she came upon one where she heard combative voices to the music of clashing metal on metal.
"Let me go!" a voice down the hall cried. Carmelita followed it and it slowly grew louder. "I'll split the loot with you!" It was a desperate voice, one of a coward to Carmelita. A criminal coward.
Carmelita found the exhibit where the voices were originating from, but stopped dead in her tracks by its entrance when she heard a smooth, velvety voice reply to the first one. "I'm not in this for the money." It sounded so familiar, and Carmelita had her suspicions as to who it was.
"What? But you're a thief! What else could you possibly want?" The other's voice pleaded for the suave voice to reveal it's unknown desire.
"It's not what I want." The person paused before continuing on. "It's what she wants and needs. You can come out now Inspector Fox!" Carmelita emerged from her hiding spot, pistol at the ready and aiming at the two culprits she found.
One was the Statue Bandit, struggling to free himself from the several ropes that contained him. He gnawed and fought with his bonds while the second person watched with a humored grin. He was a raccoon clad in blue attire, and a red scarf for the festive season. He leaned on his trademark crooked-ended cane with one arm, flashing a charming smile, and waved to Carmelita. "Sly," she muttered.
"Evening," Sly greeted.
"Both of you! Hands up!" Carmelita barked.
"You gotta be kidding me. Are you blind?" the bandit asked sarcastically.
"That's no way to treat a lady," Sly replied, knocking him in the head with the hook end of his cane.
"Hands up Cooper!" Carmelita repeated. He complied, much to her surprise. She quickly fumbled with her handcuffs and tossed them at him. "Put these on!" she ordered, erasing any shock from her tone at Sly actually following her commands. She still recalled what had happened last time when she had been handcuffed to the rail by Sly. And while the kiss he had given her had been nice, she could still recall the long hours of futile attempts to pick the lock and her eventual rescue courtesy of the police.
"Oh Carmelita. I always knew you had a wild side," Sly teased, catching the handcuffs and dangling them on his slender finger.
Carmelita's cheeks flushed red at Sly's remark, her mind's eye creating a very visual image of Sly and her in a less than appropriate position. "That's Inspector Fox to you, Cooper!" she replied. "Put them on!"
Again to her surprise, Sly dropped his cane and handcuffed himself. He stood there waiting for her while she slowly walked over, apprehensive of the thief that this might be another of his cozen acts to make a getaway. When they were face to face, Carmelita pulled out a radio, still having her pistol aimed at the two crooks, moreso at Sly's head, and told the police force outside to come in.
"Before they get here, I have a question for you," Carmelita said as she put her radio away. "Why did you let me catch you? What's in it for you?"
Sly smiled in his usual coy manner of the slippery mouse that is always one step ahead of the cat. "It's my Christmas present to you. I decided I'd let you catch me this once. Merry Christmas. I'm yours," Sly said, holding up his hands in surrender.
Carmelita had a gut feeling there was more to it than that. And, for some reason unknown to her except past experience, she had a sneaking suspicion that she should install extra locks on her office windows and door. But before she could say anything else, cops stormed the exhibit from all sides. Most congratulated Carmelita while several others hauled the Statue Bandit outside.
"You want to take him yourself?" one of the cops asked Carmelita while thumbing at Sly.
Carmelita nodded. "Yeah, I'll take him." She grabbed Cooper's arm and shoved him to the exit. "C'mon." Sly just grinned and quietly walked ahead of her.
The police station was in an uproar and the arrival of Carmelita and her prisoner did nothing to alleviate it. When Carmelita reached the station, she was swarmed by officers who came to congratulate her and see if it was true that she had caught Sly Cooper while reporters from every news station around shoved cameras and microphones in both of their faces. Carmelita had to shove her way through the crowd while keeping a tight grip on Sly until she finally made it inside.
"You're quite the celebrity," Sly commented.
Carmelita ignored him and marched up to the front desk. "I have a prisoner I need to book," she told the receptionist.
The receptionist looked up from her work at Carmelita and then glanced at Sly. "So it is true," she mumbled. "Well the chief wants to see you right away."
"But I need to book him first."
"You'll have to let someone else handle that."
"We'll do it." Carmelita and the receptionist turned to see two cops, both sporting large mustaches, next to them. One was small and in a wheelchair wearing a stern, tight-lipped face while the other was twice the size of any officer Carmelita had ever seen and waved shyly at her. "You go on Inspector Fox," the smaller one said. "Officer Jones and I will book this criminal scum." His nasally voice emphasized the scum a little too much for the detective's liking.
The taller one, who Carmelita assumed was Jones, grabbed Sly and pulled him down a hallway, berating him all the way. "You're gonna be locked up for a long time," Jones' booming threat echoed down the hallway. Meanwhile, the one in the wheelchair was already busily filling out the paperwork.
"Um, thank you," Carmelita replied, slightly bewildered. She had a nagging feeling that the two seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Their faces were hidden by the mustaches, but she could see that the smaller one was a turtle. And the larger one...was he a hippo?
Before she could dwell on it any longer, the receptionist cleared her throat. "Inspector. The chief?" she reminded her.
"Oh!" Carmelita quickly turned away and rushed to the elevator as quickly as she could.
"Woah! Watch it Murray!" Sly said as he was quickly shoved around the corner, slamming into the wall rather roughly.
Murray took off his mustache and proceeded to shed his too snug uniform. "Sorry Sly. I guess I don't know my own strength." The pink hippo kicked the garb off to the side and replaced the outfit's hat with his own leather helmet. "That thing was way too small," he commented, breathing a sigh of relief and patting his rotund stomach.
"Well can you get the keys?" Sly held up his handcuffed hands. Murray nodded and dug the keys out of one of the uniform's pockets. He unlocked the handcuffs, which fell to the ground with a clang. Sly rubbed his freed wrists and sighed in relief. "Thanks. Carmelita put them on very tight."
Bentley wheeled himself up to Sly and threw his mustache on the ground in frustration at his friend's rash behavior. "It would really help if you would tell us what you plan to do from now on instead of pulling a stunt like this." He struggled with his get-up, getting one arm stuck as he continued to fume. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get these disguises or sneak in here?" He pulled his arm out quickly, smacking himself in the head.
"With your brains, I'm sure it was no trouble," Sly answered in an attempt to smooth over anger.
"Yes, well," Bentley adjusted his helmet, "we need to get out of here before anyone realizes what's happened."
Sly nodded. "Okay. You guys bring the van around to the side. I'll meet you there."
Bentley rolled in front of Sly and crossed his arms, barricading him from leaving. "Oh no. Not again. Tell us what you're planning."
Sly simply grinned. "Just trust me."
Carmelita carefully composed herself and straightened her posture outside the chief's office. After taking a few deep breaths and whispering to herself to relax, she opened the door and walked inside.
The office was, to say the least, immaculate and well-furnished. It looked more like a study of well-off chairman or C.E.O. than a chief of Interpol. On one side stood a tall bookcase, brimming with enough books to fill a section of a library and all arranged alphabetically. On the other side was a soft sofa with pillows adorning either side. The tiled floor itself was covered in a very expensive carpet, which Carmelita could only guess came from out of the country. In the middle of the room was a desk covered in papers much like Carmelita's, but ordered and properly filed. Behind the desk was a world map with several pins of different colors in random spots which, Carmelita surmised, showed recent activity of criminals that Interpol was pursuing.
At the desk sat a brown bulldog, chewing on the end of a cigar, and perusing some papers with a firm scowl. When he heard Carmelita come in, he beckoned her over. "Come in. Come in. Have a seat," he growled, the ugly frown never once leaving his face.
Carmelita sat down and waited patiently. After a few seconds passed, she cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me, chief?"
The chief put down the papers and puffed on his cigar for a few moments. "Yes," he replied. Taking the cigar out of his mouth, he blew a ring of smoke before continuing. "I just wanted to say you did a fine job Fox. Real fine job." He put out the cigar in an ashtray on his desk and clasped his hands together. His mouth twitched upwards in the slightest of smiles. Perhaps the closest he ever came to an actual smile. "In fact, Interpol has decided you've earned yourself a raise."
Carmelita was slightly taken aback. She had not expected this at all. It was exactly what she had been hoping and wishing to happen "Thank you sir," Carmelita said, blinking back a sting in her eye.
The chief nodded before the phone rang. "Hang on," he held up a fat finger and picked up the phone. Carmelita glanced around the office some more until she heard the chief yell into the phone. "How could he escape!" She nearly jumped out of her chair at the sudden menacing change in his voice. "Well find him! Put every man on it! I want him back behind bars two minutes ago!" And with that, the chief slammed the receiver down.
"Who escaped?" Carmelita carefully asked, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the chief's wrath. The knots in her stomach already gave her an inkling as to who it was.
"Cooper. Right after you brought him in to," he lamented in disbelief. The chief stood up and grabbed his coat off the chair he had sat in. "He can't have gotten too far."
"I'll come help," Carmelita offered, standing up as well, but the chief held up his hands.
"No, Fox. You've done quite enough for tonight," the chief told her. "Go home and get some rest. We'll finish talking about your raise tomorrow." He rushed out the door, muttering and swearing under his breath about what he would do to the officers downstairs, and left Carmelita alone in his office.
She was about to leave the office, go home, and relax in a soothing bath when she heard a faint tap on one of the windows of the office. Carmelita swirled around and slowly walked over to it, searching for the cause of the noise. Hanging upside down and looking back at her from the top of the window was Sly Cooper.
Instantly, a sudden realization slapped Carmelita's mind. Something that Sly had told her earlier that night. "Christmas present?" she muttered, recalling Sly's reason for letting her catch him. She wondered if he had planned all of this. If he had done this so she could receive the raise she had desperately needed.
She looked up and watched as Sly's breath fogged up the glass. He pressed his finger against it and drew a small face of a raccoon. Both of them chuckled at his little breath doodle before Sly breathed again on the same spot, erasing the miniature head. This time, he drew a little heart and wrote the words "Merry Christmas" underneath it.
Carmelita smiled, feeling all sorts of emotions rise up at once. Relief and joy about the raise and a certain heat rising in her cheeks as Sly stared at her. Although this was quite common to the detective by now since it happened nearly everytime the two happened to run into one another. He grinned and winked before leaping off, latching onto several ledge and objects, and quickly descending to the ground, where a familiar, hotrod painted blue van waited.
Carmelita watched as the van sped off into the night with police cars hot in pursuit. When she could no longer see it, she smirked and glanced back at Sly's message. "Thanks, Ringtail."
A/N: We hope you liked it. Have a Merry Christmas everyone!
Sword: Or a Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanza, or any other holiday that you celebrate.
Pen: Very pc of you.
Sword: I am not a computer!
Sword: ICP/TP towers activate! En garde!