Sly Cooper: Family of Thieves

Chapter 13: Poems and Purrs

Other than flying and parkour, I found solace in more grounded activities during my solo escapades. With another tough mission looming ahead, I decided to race through the streets to get my blood pumping. Adding a touch of parkour to my routine, I leaped and ran across rooftops, preparing myself for the challenges that lay ahead. After the night training, I leaned against a wall for a quick sip. It was then that something caught my eye: a poetry bar, reminiscent of the Bohemian movement. Intrigued, I decided to step inside and experience it for myself.

The scene that greeted me was a palette of lustrous colors, dim lights, and mellow music humming in the background as I settled at a table. Usually vigilant for things worth snatching, the sound of bongos interrupted my thoughts. The lights dimmed, the curtains parted, revealing a hedgehog in an aviator jacket. Despite looking about my age, he recited his poems with remarkable maturity.

When the poetry reading concluded, my initial instinct was to head home, but the rain had other plans.

"Great," I groaned, pulling my hoodie over my shoulder and heading toward the exit.

"Hey, wait up," a voice called, and I turned around to see the same person who had performed on stage hours ago.

"Some weather we're having today, isn't it?" the young poet remarked.

"Yeah," I replied, "I'm Sangue."

The young man, named Seth, smiled.

"No way, you're named after the Egyptian deity of chaos?!"

Seth widened his eyes for a moment before grinning. "I do like chaos, and airplanes. I'm leaving for Holland."

I nodded and wished him a safe trip before zipping out of the bar. Unable to fly in the wet weather, I continued running.

"I'm so dumb; I should've waited until this rain stops," I thought as puddles splashed against my feet.

Suddenly, a loud clank echoed in the alley before me. A tuna can lay on the floor, untouched. As I approached, a swarm of alley cats overwhelmed me with screeches and claws. Fortunately, I had just the thing to shoo them off.

"Let's see you scratch this!" I declared, pulling out my SNeRF pistols from a mission earlier.

I squirted the cats with water without mercy, watching them scowl as they ran away.

"Mess with the bat, you get the fangs; sucka."

After the ordeal, I headed home to Sly's hideout, relieved that I hadn't blown my cover to Seth. I was a mess, scars marring my arms and face. Opening the door, I greeted Sly and his gang with a tired disposition.

"Hi, guys," I said.

The shock on Sly and his gang's faces was palpable, especially on Sly and Murray, who seemed the most defensive.

"Who did this to you?" Sly asked, cupping my face with his hands.

"I want names!" Murray bellowed, clenching his fist.

I chuckled. "Gentlemen, please. I went to a poetry slam, had fun, and on the way home, fought an entire horde of alley cats with SNeRF."

They quickly tended to my wounds with care, confusing me.

"You don't have to do this—ah! You know I'm as tough as a cinderblock," I told them.

Sly chuckled. "Tough, but way too reckless... I wonder where you get it," he replied.

"We're taking care of you because we care," Bentley added.