Sly Cooper 5: Promises Made By Thieves

Chapter 48: Sly

With Roger Silvio missing and his wife and kid incarcerated, as well as the viral Branwell video, it just felt right for us to be on the down low for a few days. Normally after finishing a big caper like rescuing Branwell we'd have a fun time touring wherever we were at, and we often felt the ability to because police don't like to broadcast when they've failed at stopping thieves, so they don't tend to reach out to the media telling them to keep an eye out for us. It's a different story since Roger has a lot of high-up friends, him becoming a fugitive is definitely an eyebrow raiser, and the possibility of their entire family going to prison is not something the world is willing to bat an eye from. I've heard some big names in billionaire circles are concerned about being implicated in crimes and sent to jail themselves.

Three days have passed with our gang basically taking a camping trip. Carmelita's also kept us in the loop. Ambera and Cliffton aren't budging on their stances of not knowing anything about anything, including why Roger's workers were willing to torture and drown Branwell. Some are saying the evidence that was found, including Branwell's blood in the boat garage, was planted, and I can tell Carmelita is pressuring the pup a little to be willing to come forward as a witness if a trial happens. I heard him tell her he's open to it once there's more certainty he won't be sent back to prison. The other day I told Branwell about my recent adventure three months behind bars with Slytunkhamen. We bonded over smores and hot dogs and special experiences in a rigged justice system we never want to dip our toes back into.

I think I'm now beginning to regain the weight I lost in that time. On some nights I've even eaten more than Murray. I've also spent some time exercising, jogging and practicing takeouts in the hayfield. It's almost lunchtime and I'm wondering what I'm going to do now with everyone doing a different chore when Carmelita walks in.

"Hey, ringtail," she says solemnly.

"Hey," I say similarly. The truth is, we haven't spoken much. Actually, not at all, since we rescued Branwell. Carmelita's been busy keeping us hidden and virtually filing reports, and I haven't really made an effort to go up to her. I'm kind of grateful she's now taking the leap.

"The little dog is lucky," is how she begins the conversation, putting some papers to the side of where she sits down.

"Yeah. McSweeney's the best possible cellmate he could've gotten, not to mention our good timing."

"Well, that's correct, but I was more talking about how he didn't kill anyone when he set that fire."

I blink. "Yeah. Certainly." I can't think of a more flavorful response.

"He confessed to me he committed arson of his own will. I mean, him and his family did not deserve what happened to them. He just should've gone to a lawyer or something and sued for harassment and defamation."

I look out at the van's open door. Branwell's out chatting with McSweeney about something. "He definitely doesn't look like someone willing to do that, but I've been told by those in the same business as I that I don't look tough enough to lead a gang."

Carmelita rubs her ungloved fingers. "Sly," she says finally, "I don't know why we argued so much in London, but we did."

I slowly nod. Carmelita and I have fought before. She's even shot at me. But that was when we were playing Cops & Robbers, and in those times when we occasionally fought, she was always the aggressive one. With the fiascos around the oranges and boat, we actually became a little bit hateful to one another.

"Do you know why I became an officer?" she asks quietly.