"[...] then who's to say that is or is not Carmen Sandiego?" The two Bostonians glanced at each other, the younger one giving a nod as if giving his sister permission to pull a crumpled piece of paper from the blue jacket. The note read: 'Keep fighting the good fight. Love you both so much. -Carmen' Nobody had ever fully understood what was going through her head, not even having the decency to say a real goodbye. If it was her up there, is this really a good thing? Or just unfinished trauma resurfacing in her appearance? ... After all, who's to say this is the first Carmen to wear the coat?