Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Paris, France
4:20 AM 

A shadowy figure sprinted on top of the rooftops, having a such perfect balance that a tightrope walker would be shocked and envious. While jumping on another roof, brown eyes spotted a brick chimney, but they paid no mind to it. A golden hook shone through the night’s darkness, and with a strong and fast swipe, it crumbled. The figure jumped through the chimney’s fragments, soaring in the sky, their silhouette showing in the big, luminous moon. They landed on a ledge perfectly, shimming across, ignoring the lit window where a male ocelot worked, the ocelot gave no reaction in response. 

Once the figure made it to the edge of the ledge, they peered around the corner and saw a neon sign that read “Poste de Police” and smirked. With a small step back, they jumped on top of the sign, making the rusty supports screech as it was slightly knocked out of place. The figure soon stopped, glancing around the roof they were on. When they finally stepped out into the moonlight, they smirked. It was a male raccoon with gray fur, and couldn't be any older than 18. 

His blue shirt, hat, boots, and gloves glowed in the night, as well as the golden cane with an oak shaft. Once he spotted a worn-out logo that read; “Interpol”, he reached behind him in his red backpack for his high-tech, blue binoculars. His binocucom. The raccoon turned it on and held it over his eyes. 

“Sly! Come in!” He winced, his ears flattening as the earpiece in his ear roared in sudden loudness. The voice spoke again, its voice remaining very intense. “Sly! Do you read me?”

“Yeah, I read you. Loud and..” He shook his head, trying to get the ringing to stop. “Very loud.” 

“Sorry. I’m a little nervous. Trying to break into police headquarters does that.” The green reptile apologized, making Sly frown. 

“Get over it, Bentley. You’re safe in the van.” He reminded. “I’m the thief here - I’ve got to steal that file from Inspector Carmelita Fox.” 

“Well, count on me to be your eyes and ears, buddy. Got their security system totally scoped. To get inside, you're gonna have to go through that air vent." 

The raccoon peered up, zooming in to get a better look at it. With a hardened gaze and a smirk, he nodded. "Alright, I'm going in." 

"And don't forget you got me at the wheel, Sly." The pink hippo reminded, Sly's ear flicked at the new voice. "All you got to do is grab the file and get back to the van. We'll do the rest." 

"Just keep the engine running, Murray. I'll be down in no time." He hung up and put the device back in his bag. He glanced around to see if there was any way up there, and he soon saw the small water tower on the roof, then the TV antennas. 

Putting his plan into motion, he ran up the water tower's ramp and shimmied around the other side, once he made it, he skillfully hopped on the antennas, using them as stepping stones to make it to the other side. He looked at the vent cover, seeing four bolts keeping it in place. 

'Not for long.’ 

He hooked the very tip of his cane on one of the bolts and jerked back, letting it fall with a clang as he got to work on the rest of them, they all fell, and he popped the cover off with a grunt, he peered inside, his nose twitching as he scoped out the vent. Once he decided it was safe, he went in, making sure not to make too much noise In case someone decided to stay and do a late night shift, rounding the corner, he stopped to see plenty of bright yellow lasers, lighting up the room brightly. 

"Be extra careful here, Sly. Break one of those laser beams and you'll set off the alarms." 

A smirk appeared on his muzzle, taking a step back to prep himself, he ran and jumped, doing a front tuck flip, landing easily on one of the side platforms, he jumped again, this time, doing a front dive roll, he made it, finally going for the last jump, he did a front flip, making it on the ground, his brown eyes looked at the lasers, they were all still there, and not one was tripped, satisfied, he slid open the black gate. 

He perked inside the dim, hushed hallway of the police station, his nose twitching once again as well as his ears, trying to scope it out. 

"Nice job. You're in." 

Sly's fur puffed up in surprise as his turtle friend's voice rang through the earpiece, holding a hand to his heart to calm it, he let him continue. "Inspector Carmelita Fox's office is behind the red door." 

'Jesus Christ, Bentley.' The raccoon sighed as he walked through the halls, the eeriness slowly creeping into his body and seeping into his mind, he kept an eye out for the scarlet door. Still, all he saw were green ones, that is until he turned the corner and finally locked eyes with it, with a smile, he walked towards it and grabbed the knob, attempting to go in. But he paused when the brass knob refused to turn, he tried again, but all that was heard was a clicking noise, he peered in through the door's window, trying to find another way in, and that's when his brown orbs spotted it. 

An open window.

He smirked and looked at the window beside him, he reached up and I hatched the locks, it opened with no complaints, letting Sly hop on the windowsill and shimmy his way across, his heart stopped once he felt a loose brick crumble from under him, but he stood firm, making his way over to the inspector's window. Once he hopped inside, he took time to look around, it had a nice homey feel, if you ignored the millions of stacks of paperwork and Sly Cooper wanted posters, he glanced at them, making him smile a little bit before turning his attention to the large safe in the corner of her office. 

With a crack of knuckles, he put his cane on the floor, kneeled down, and started to slowly turn the dial, his ear twitching as he heard various clicks of the numbers, after about a long, agonizing minute, he finally figured out the code with a satisfying click of the lock, 9-3-7. 

He got up from his crouched position while grabbing his cane, he pushed open the door, and brown eyes spotted the vanilla folder with a Polaroid of Sly paper clipped to the front. The raccoon grabbed it with gentle hands, and with a smile, he put it in his backpack before swapping it with something else, his calling card, after that was done, he reached into his earpiece, pressing a button before speaking. "I got it, heading for exfill." 

"If you come down through the fire escape and head through the parking lot, we'll be waiting in the getaway van," Murray informed, Sly gave a single nod and opened another window, he stepped out onto the fire escape, pulling the switch that lowers the ramps. 

"Criminal!"

Brown eyes hardened as he peered behind him to see who that voice belonged to, his eyes greeted him with the sight of a beautiful red fox with luscious blue curly hair, she growled at the male. "¡Eres un mapache estúpido!" She spoke in her native language before talking in English; "I've caught you red-handed!" 

"Ah... Carmelita..." He tipped his cap to her. "I haven't seen you since I gave you the slip in Bombay." 

"Which reminds me — you need to return the Fire Stone of India to its rightful owners." 

"Aw, and here I was going to give it to you as a little token of my—“ Sly paused as he saw the firearm in her hand, she didn't have her finger on the trigger, but she had it resting next to it, no doubt ready to use it, he smirked and rested his cane on his shoulder. "Hey, you know that bazooka really brings out the color of your eyes. Very fetching." 

Carmelita scoffed at this. "You think? This pistol packs a paralyzing punch. You ought to try it. Might snap you out of your crime spree."

"And give up our little rendezvous?" He quirked an eyebrow. 

"Plenty of time for that once you're safely behind bars." 

"Sly! Hurry it up! We gotta go, now!" Sly heard Bentley in his earpiece, he smirked. "Love to stick around and chat, but I just dropped by to pick up this case file." He gestured to his bag. "I think you've had it long enough." 

The fox growled and started to fire electro blasts at the grey raccoon, who flinched and dodged out of the way as he ran down the ramps as quickly as possible, his feet met asphalt as he landed in the parking lot, he quickly started to sprint again, using the cars for cover as the fox still shot at him, he slid over the hood of a gray car, just barely missing the huge explosion behind him. Bentley opened the van's back doors for the raccoon, who jumped in without any hesitation, helping the turtle slam the doors as Murray drove off, Sly made his way to the front passenger seat, barely hearing the cop scream: "You can't escape me raccoon!" 

"Please tell me you still have the file." The turtle pleaded, prompting Sly to take off his red bag before unzipping it, holding out the file with a grin, making the pair smile as well. "Once we get back to the safe house, we'll start planning." Bentley took the file out of the raccoon's hands, looking over it. 

"Can't wait," Sly smirked. 

He was finally going to get what was rightfully his.

Chapter Text

“Come sit on my lap, son.” 

The small raccoon looked up from his coloring book and at his father, who patted his knee, getting up from the floor, he walked over to him, passing the doorway to the kitchen where his mother was cooking dinner. The man put his pipe in between his teeth, holding it there while he picked up his 8-year-old son, taking out the pipe, he spoke; “You’re about that age to learn about the family business.” 

“Oh, ma chérie, he is not ready for that yet.” The albino raccoon said as she turned to the pair, her brown eyes always showing peacefulness. The male raccoon chuckled at this. “Nonsense Rose, he is more than ready.” 

He turned and picked up a book lying on the table next to them. The book was no doubt old, most of the pages were a pale yellow, however, the gold edges were pristine and shiny, and the young raccoon saw the title and read it out loud; “The Thievius Raccoonus?” 

His father hummed in confirmation, a smile on his face, the same twinkle in his blue eyes. “You see son, the family business is a dangerous one. We, Coopers, are known for one thing; being thieves.” 

“Thieves?”

“Yes, and in this book, are some journal entries from your ancestors. Go ahead, open it.” He gently handed it to the kit, who opened it on a random page, brown eyes glanced at the writing on top of the page. 

リオイチ・クーパー

“I can’t read it.” The kit mumbled. 

“Yes you can, Sly. We taught you how to read Japanese, remember?” Rose smiled at her son as she walked up behind the chair the two sat on. This made him glance back at the page, his brows furrowed as he tried his best to understand the writing. 

“R-Rioichi… Cooper?” 

“Good job, baby.” His father praised, kissing the side of his son’s forehead, making the kit smile. “This book contains all of the secrets and techniques of master thieves. And now, it’s your turn to inherit it.” 

“Really?” Sly smiled widely, making his father take his hat off and place it on his son’s head. It slid forward, covering his brown eyes, but the boy pushed it back up. “Really. But remember, Sly; a good thief only steals from other criminals. There is absolutely no honor in robbing the innocent. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

Satisfied, his father was about to hand him the book but was stopped by a loud banging on the front door. The three froze, looking at the wooden door in shock, but not daring to answer it. The loud banging was back, now louder and harder. The man took his son off his lap and quietly went to the window to peek, once he did, the child saw his father’s jaw tighten, and the twinkle in his eye was replaced by fear. “Oh no... He’s here. Rose, put Sly in the closet with my cane while I hide the book.” 

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” Sly asked as his mother picked him and the cane up, her low ponytail that was draped over her shoulder tickled him as she replied; “Nothing, sweetheart.” 

She opened the closet and put the cane in there first, then Sly, who looked at his mother with worried eyes. “Momma…” 

“Shh, C 'est bon. Some old… Friends of your father decided to visit. Just stay in here and keep the door shut no matter what, okay?” 

He looked at her, his form visibly shaking, but he nodded anyway. Rose kissed her son’s forehead. “Je t'aime.” And with that, the door was closed with a click, leaving Sly alone in the darkness, the only sounds coming from the loud bangs to the front door, and his fast, unsteady breaths. However, he soon heard his mother and father’s voices as they talked to each other. 

“Rose! What are you doing?! Go hide with Sly!” 

“No! I’m not letting you handle that… thing alone!” 

“This is suicide, Rose!” 

“It is suicide if you handle him alone, Connor!” 

His breath stopped once he finally heard the door break down, hearing clanks of metal and tons of footsteps in the house. 

“Dreadfully sorry about the door…” A snobby voice said. 

“Not like ya need it anyways.” A gruff voice added. 

“We just wanted to drop by~” A female voice laughed. 

“We come on business.” A deep male voice informed. He then heard his father’s voice; “Friends of yours, Clock?” 

“Friends…” An almost metallic, viscous voice chuckled, making many chills run down the kit’s body. “No. They are just helping me wipe something out.”

“And what would that be?” 

Sly placed his hands on the door and pushed the door open to a crack, his father only in view.

 “The Coopers.” 

A large talon swiped fast and hand, but his father dodged out of the way. He then saw what looked to be a really long tongue try and hit him, but he blocked it off, and just in the nick of time, grabbed the metal talon that was about to strike him. His father’s arms were shaking as he held them back.

“Where is the book, Connor?” 

“You will never get that book Clockwork!” His father growled, his tone full of venom as he continued to push his talon back. Sly’s attention then turned to his mother, who charged at the person who owned the metal claws. She held a large kitchen knife in her hands, however, she did not make it far, as a loud bang was heard, making Sly flinch with a yelp and wet eyes. His mother’s body fell as blood splattered on the wall, he then listened to his father’s voice yell out, so much pain behind it. 

“ROSE!!!” 

Since he was distracted, the talon jerked back and slashed. Successfully getting his father, his blood splattered on the floor and walls, and he fell with a loud thump. His blue eyes were now lifeless. Sly choked back sobs as he trembled, shaky hands coming to his muzzle as tears streamed down like waterfalls. He couldn’t believe it. His parents were dead. They were never coming back. 

“Find the book.” The malicious voice said, no remorse in it. However, the four other voices did so, tearing apart the whole house searching. Thinking quickly, Sly took one of the blankets and unfolded it, covering his father’s cane, and then hiding behind the hung-up jackets. Scooting them closer together so he would be completely blocked from view. He heard the door open completely, and after a deep grunt of annoyance, the door shut once more. Sly came out of his hiding spot, cracking the door open again. 

“Are we certain that the journal is here?” The deep male voice questioned. 

“Oho… Lookie what I found!” The gruff voice laughed as he tossed the family portrait aside. He gripped the safe and yanked the whole door off, revealing the book they were looking for. 

The Thievius Raccoonus. 

The talon grabbed the book and opened it. “As promised, everyone gets a section.” 

The kit sobbed quietly as he watched them tear the pages out, some of them laughing about it and making fun of his ancestors. As soon as it was cleaned out, the silver claw slammed the book shut and threw it on the ground. Everyone laughed or said spiteful things as they left the house, leaving the sobbing kit alone. 

Once Sly decided it was safe, he crawled out of the small space, as he slowly made his way to the book’s remains, he couldn’t help but glance at his parents. A small voice was telling him that they would get up, and everything would be okay, but he knew… 

They weren’t getting back up from that. 

He grabbed the book with shaky hands, looking it over before clutching it to his chest, crying loudly. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. 

He was Sly Cooper, and he was alone.

Chapter Text

The young raccoon continued to flip through and read a local case file on a criminal named Sir Raleigh the frog as he sat in the passenger side of the Cooper Van. Apparently, he was very hot-tempered, and as a young man, he found his life full of privilege and luxury mundane. 

Sly couldn’t help but let out a growl at that. How dare he? First, he stole his family’s book and killed his parents, and now it turns out he didn’t appreciate the luxurious life he had. He probably had everyone waiting on hand and knee. He has had perfect meals cooked to his liking—everything he could ever want. 

Sly never had that lifestyle when he was a kid, all he had was bad nightmares and wishes that never came true.

Raleigh tried out piracy and found it to his liking, and ever since then, he has been living a full life of crime. That’s when he was brought into the Fiendish Five as their chief machinist. The last place he was seen was off the Isle of Wrath's southern coast, a small island in the middle of the Welsh Triangle. 

The young raccoon looked up from the file, a determined look on his face. 

He was ready to face this frog. Whatever it takes.

Sly brushed past the thick leaves and climbed out of the cave and onto the very, very large ship, panting a bit as he wiped his brow from sweat and rain. Brown eyes looked around to see that he had a pretty good layout of the land, and a large blimp flying in the sky. So he brought out his binocucom and held it up to his eyes. “Hey, Bentley, what’s with the huge blimp? It looks more like a machine than an actual aircraft. ”

“You're right, Sly. That is a storm machine! It's the reason why it never stops raining around here.” Bentley agreed, typing away on his computer as he talked, the raccoon hummed as he looked into the ocean, seeing a bunch of splintered wood and metal pieces hanging around the rocks. “That explains all the wrecked ships.” 

“But why would Raleigh want bad weather at his own hideout, 24/7?” The turtle questioned to himself. 

“Beats me, but rain or shine, I'm going to steal my family's book back. And if Raleigh gets in my way... it's on.” Sly growled. He kept staring at the blimp as chills went up and down his spine. The frog was in the blimp. He just knows it. “That blimp looks like the most secured location on this boat. If Raleigh's really as smart as his police file suggests, then that's where I'll find him.” 

“Wonderful idea, but your plan is flawed,” Bentley responded, causing the raccoon to real back slightly in shock. “What? Why?” 

“Because it's impossible to get near him. To access Raleigh's blimp, you would have to sneak through that high-voltage power tube.” The turtle explained, causing Sly to look at the tube he was talking about. It was large and made of metal, with plenty of space for the thief to just walk through it, but he could spot the bolts of electricity bouncing off of the entrance. He clenched his jaw in frustration as Bentley continued; “To do that without getting electrocuted, you'd have to destroy that power generator, and to do that, you need two sets of keys, which are heavily guarded.” 

“So… When are you going to get to the impossible part?” 

He could hear Bentley huff and puff over the comm, causing Sly to smirk a little. “Fine, but I warned you! I've marked the areas you need to hit with holographic markers. Follow them to your objectives.” 

“Thank you, appreciate you~,” Sly said with a playful tone, causing Bentley to shake his head and reply; “Mhm. Don't mention it — it's your funeral.” 

With a small chuckle, he pocketed the device and headed to the first location, which was a set of metal doors, sneaking around the guards, he quickly pulled them open with a tug before slipping inside and slamming them shut.

God, it was hot. 

So very hot. 

The young raccoon almost debated taking off his shirt to just try and cool off, even if it was just by a little bit, but he held off. 

Apparently, he was in the ship's engine room, and a set of keys that he needed was in there, with a bonus, he could sabotage Raleigh’s storm machine, which was just the cherry on top for Sly. 

He wandered around the hallways of the engine room and paused once the thief entered a large area that was flooded with ocean water. 

Sly doesn’t know how to swim since he never took lessons. His father was going to take him at some point, but that was obviously out of the question. And while the orphanage he was at did have some days when they would visit a pool, no one attempted to teach him there either. Other than taking a simple bath or walking in waist-deep water, he would sink to the bottom in seconds. 

There were plenty of things floating around to help him get across though. So with a deep breath to steady himself, he started to jump and make his way across. His heart stopped every time he stepped on a floating platform and it swayed under his feet, and he started to feel sick in his stomach. 

‘You’re not gonna fall… You’re not gonna drown. You’re gonna make it…’ 

He let out a huge sigh of relief as soon as he was able to make it onto solid ground again, he felt his legs give out from under him as he collapsed on his knees, letting out a few weak chuckles as he placed a hand over his raging fast heart. 

He was safe. 

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” 

No, he was not. 

He looked up with a shocked expression to see a walrus wearing blue overalls and a pair of goggles glare at him, holding a blowtorch. And using the said blowtorch, he fired it up and aimed it toward Sly. He gasped and quickly rolled back to avoid being burned by the flames, other than a few hairs being scorched on his tail, he tumbled on his feet and used his cane to dive in and hook the walrus’ wrist. It was then that he brought him forward and jerked the end of his cane to his forehead, relatively knocking him out. 

This allowed Sly to finally catch his breath, his body finally relaxing. He checked over himself to make sure that he wasn’t burned or hurt in any other places, but other than a few burnt hairs on his tail, he was okay. 

He continued to move forward, dodging spinning blades from the boat rotors and going deeper into the heart of the ship. Once he made it, he spotted the thing he was looking for, on an engineer’s belt.

The first set of keys.

Sly slowly crept toward the walrus, waiting for the right moment. Once he was done welding something, the raccoon smacked the end of his cane on the engineer's head, successfully knocking him out. 

He swiped the keys before he fell to the ground, a smile on his face. 

His brown eyes soon landed on some papers sitting next to the unconscious body, and he gently picked them up, turning them toward him. 

His eyes widened. 

‘No way…’ 

Sly was looking at some of the missing pages from the Thievius Raccoonus. More specifically, his ancestor’s Old Sally Cooper’s pages. She would outrun law enforcement by curling up into a ball and rolling away, which seemed a bit silly, but it really worked out. 

She was originally from Canada, and from what he remembered from his father’s tales, she was honestly the most generous of Coopers. Sally always had the biggest heart out of anyone, and always put everyone’s feelings before her own.

A blue-gloved thumb gently traced over the neat cursive as he felt rocks clog his throat. Sally reminded him a lot of his own mother… 

He quickly shook his head and put the pages in his backpack, reaching up to his earpiece. “Bentley, I got the first set of keys… I’m onto the next set.” 

It would be nice to get out of this hot area and cool off for once.

Chapter Text

Warm brown eyes scanned the opulent hallway, a space that radiated luxury at every turn. The sound of a whistle escaped his lips as he took in the stunning array of ornate paintings that adorned the walls—each frame a masterpiece, depicting scenes of grandeur and history. Majestic sculptures stood proudly on polished pedestals, their intricate details catching the soft light that filtered through the tall, arched windows. Glass cabinets lined the hallway, showcasing an eclectic collection of priceless trinkets and delicate crystal goblets, their surfaces gleaming enticingly. His father's words echoed in his mind, a reminder that this display of wealth, though breathtaking, was often described as "ignorant money," a term underscoring the notion that true value lies beyond material possessions.

The 18-year-old raccoon thought back to Bentley’s small briefing to him while he made his way over here, his cautious words in his mind. ‘Remember Sly, this is Raleigh’s own personal quarters, which means tighter security. You need to be on your feet and keep your eyes open for those keys.’

He stealthily maneuvered through a series of simple yellow laser beams, skillfully avoiding detection as he pressed onward down the dimly lit hallway. As he pushed open a heavy red door, a sense of confusion washed over him. Before him unfolded a vast chamber reminiscent of an ancient temple, its towering columns and intricate carvings hinting at a long-lost civilization. 

The air was thick, and beneath his feet, a shimmering expanse of water stretched out, reflecting the flickering torchlight like a thousand scattered stars. Dominating the entrance to a stone archway at the far end of the room was a massive, ominous skull and crossbones, a stark warning that whatever lay beyond was not for the faint of heart.

“What the hell–”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as yellow laser beams emitted from the eyes and began to come straight at the raccoon, he immediately rolled out of the way and looked back, only to see that the lasers were following him. “Ugh, come on…!”

Sly sprinted further into the temple-like chamber, his heart racing as he felt the ominous hum of the yellow lasers tracking his every movement. The tight, stone walls towered around him. As he darted between columns draped in shadows, a glimmer caught his attention—an unexpected flash of light just beyond his peripheral vision. He turned sharply, his breath hitching as he spotted another vault nestled within a recess in the wall, its ornate surface glinting enticingly in the dim light.

‘Don’t you do it, Sly. Get the keys and get out of there!’ He could hear Bentley in his ear.

But, then again. 

When has he ever listened to Bentley?

With a sudden burst of energy, he propelled himself toward the heavy steel safe, his body vaulting gracefully through the air. As he landed, he rolled forward, absorbing the impact with practiced precision before springing to his feet. Without hesitation, he put down his cane, and pressed his ear tightly against the cold surface of the safe, his heart racing in tandem with the blaring alarms. 

With intense focus, he listened intently for the subtle clicks of the combination lock, his ear twitching slightly as he worked furiously to decipher the code. All the while, narrow beams of yellow lasers crept closer, slicing through the air like hungry serpents, urging him to crack the code faster before they completed their deadly sweep.

“Come on… Come on…” 

4-3-6

*Click!*

With a sudden burst of determination, Sly hastily rummaged through the contents of the shadowy alcove, his nimble fingers snatching up whatever was in there. He clutched his cane as he dashed back into action. When he finally reached the sturdy stone archway, an ancient structure adorned with intricate carvings, he brought the end of his cane down with a decisive thud against the sleek control panel of the laser system. 

In an instant, the ominous yellow laser beams that had threatened to ensnare him flickered out, granting the 18-year-old raccoon a moment of reprieve. He let out a heavy sigh, a mixture of relief and exhaustion, and leaned heavily against the cool, rough surface of the archway. The weight of the adrenaline surged through him as he felt sweat trickle down, matting his fur and clinging to the fabric of his shirt. His ears drooped wearily, testament to the toll of his narrow escape, as he paused to catch his breath, the echoes of his racing heart gradually settling into a steady rhythm.

He opened his eyes and dug through his red backpack to feel what he had gotten from the vault and pulled it out, his eyes widened to see it was blueprints of Raleigh’s entire operation. He knew a certain turtle who would most likely love to read these.

The raccoon hastily crammed the papers back into his backpack, his heart racing as he prepared to venture further into the shadowy depths. Just as he was about to take the next step, a flash of light caught his attention, momentarily distracting him from his mission. He turned his gaze to the side and spotted the set of gleaming keys dangling from a rusty hook on the archway, their metal reflecting the dim light. They swung gently as if taunting him with their proximity. 

The keys were likely meant to be under the watchful eyes of a pair of burly guards stationed nearby, their silhouettes barely visible in the flickering shadows. 

Speaking of which…

Where were they?

He cautiously peered down the dimly lit hallway, where two guards were slouched in their sturdy, timeworn wooden chairs, their breaths coming in deep, rhythmic snores. The faint smell of spilled wine mingled with the heavy air, the remnants of their lavish indulgence scattered at their feet—crumpled parchment wrappings from earlier feasts and half-empty goblets that glinted dully in the flickering torchlight. 

A playful gleam sparked in the raccoon’s eyes as he fought the urge to stifle a laugh that threatened to bubble up; the sight was too ridiculous. With utmost care, he reached out to snag the old brass keys hanging from a rusty hook, their cool metal resting in his gloved hands. As a finishing touch to his mischievous act, he tucked a calling card beneath the hook, leaving behind a sign of his audacious visit.

‘I’m coming for you Raleigh.’