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Today's story is brought to in part by a great DeviantArt user by the name of tanasweet123. To make a story short, I had commission them the image of Carmelita in her Valkyrie outfit and I was so impressed by the image I ended up making a story around it. Image used with the artist's permission, of course.
Link to the aartwork: https://www.deviantart.com/tanaswee.....lita-962613170
It seems Don Octavio had a real ace up his sleeve this time, and it's doubtful if Sly can find a way of out this one. Or will even want to.
I would recommend you download if you can for the full effect of the hypnotic opera. But I know not every can, so...
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“An underground theatre set up like a speakeasy; how pretentious can one guy get?”
Sly couldn’t hear Bentley’s answer under the wave of static screeching from his earpiece. He was either out of range or too far down, and either were possible at this point. The attempt to find an alternate route into the Opera House Mansion of one Don Octavio, though successful, had sent the raccoon scurrying through miles of identical sewer tunnels festering with tar. Making matters worse was the sudden switching of gates, often forcing him to double back into enemy fire.
As such, finding this hideaway seemed like a blessing to the raccoon. The place was well-sealed against the burning chemical odor and, though the main path up was heavily locked, there had to be an extra way back to the surface. It was a perfect find.
Too perfect. Sly’s tail twitched and shivered at the thought.
Far too convenient. Nice to look at though.
The walls, glazed marble with no pipes or jutting fixtures, were impossible to climb on, so Sly was left on the ground floor. Rows and rows of velvet and satin cushions crowded the area, hiding any number of the Don’s goons behind them. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a situation Murray would have loved had he still been-
“He WILL be back.” Sly’s mind spoke over the previous thought. “Once Octavio’s hauled off and the tar gone, he’ll be with the gang again and it’ll be okay.”
That thought was the only comfort to Sly as he continued to stalk the aisles. He had seen no doors so far, but there had to be one behind the stage if anything.
He had reached the center of the audience when the house lights dimmed. Mechanical whirrs echoed around as the inanimate crowds sunk into the floor.
“Mr. Cooper, I thought our last meeting made things clear between us.” The tenor voice of Octavio came from all directions, prompting the raccoon to brandish his cane. “But it seems I have too much faith in the youth to understand their elders. Back in my day, all our grandparents had to do was point and we’d know what they wanted.”
“Really old-timer? Why not face me and prove how great ‘your days’ were?”
The intercom had not stopped for Sly’s retort. “Unfortunately, I am too close to success to be entertaining punks with no appreciation for the arts. Hence the recording. Just the only good thing to come from modern times. But don’t worry; I’m leaving you in the care of my new protégé.”
A flutter of movement caught Sly’s eye, to which he answered with a swipe of his cane. He had hit nothing, for it was the trim stage curtain he had noticed. As the red wall continued to rise, the stage lights went up, illuminating a figure on stage that nearly made Sly drop his cane.
“Carmelita!?”
There was no question it was the inspector; the face and blue hair were unmistakable. That hair however was capped in a horned helmet and her face, along with the rest of her body, was wrapped in pudge. Her clothing too was unnatural for her, her Interpol badge, vest and pants traded in for the attire of some Norse goddess, complete with spear and shield. The fox didn’t seem to acknowledge the raccoon’s surprise, her eyes giving off a dull, beige glaze.
“I found this poor girl on my doorstep and decided she would be far better as a Valkyrie than an Inspector. A far nobler call, I should say.” Carmelita bowed at the recording’s complement. “Now madame, show this rat the true beauty of opera!” The following record scratch was cut with the intercom.
While Sly was frozen in shock, this new Carmelita was ready for a performance. A golden peal emanated from the stage, amplified by the opera house structure to the point of knocking Sly back a foot. Revitalized by the shove, Sly dashed to the left as another auditory wave blasted through. He tried to call out to the vixen, but his voice was a gnat’s footfall to her newfound talent.
The operatic fox on stage would not allow her quarry an easy chase. Underneath the hours of hypnotic training and exercises Octavio had put her through, she still had her memories of Sly’s movement patterns. Her voice bounced through her scales at a rapid pace, making sure to fire at all points in Cooper’s vicinity; ahead and behind and never giving a dodgeable pattern. Yet he kept dodging, kept fighting. It pained her to watch Sly be so afraid of her, of the beauty of opera that she had embraced with all her heart, and that pain was channeled right back into her voice with notes of deep blue and gold arching through the air. They landed on the floor with a thunderclap, sending waves of auditory bliss along the floor. Still the raccoon ran.
With the musical mortars dividing his attention even further, Sly kept floundering over what to do. He had no ear to Bentley (though it was doubtful he would hear him over the noise) and had no desire to harm the beautiful vixen on stage.
Suddenly, the floor underneath Sly opened up. A row of seats sprung out, offsetting his balance, and leaving him wide open for an attack. He only had enough time to see the mottled gold and blue whole note rushing towards him and, on instinct, whacked at it with his cane. The metal sunk in like a hand in cotton before rocketing to the far wall. It popped from the force and the air was filled with a deep ‘A’ tone. Not from Carmelita however, but from Sly’s cane as it shook in his hand.
Both parties saw this phenomenon and, just for a moment, they shared an eager gleam in the eye as if nothing had changed between them.
As soon as Sly noticed it though, Carmelita returned to her theatrical pose.
“So Cooper, you wish to challenge the tune of a Valkyrie after all.” Even when Carmelita spoke, it was with a flamboyant use of vocal warming. “There’s no tuning fork misaligned enough to stop my performance.”
A slight wiggle under his footing prompted Sly to jump sideways, more prepared to land on the fresh chairs popping out of the ground. “If you say so ‘Operalita.’ But I don’t think anyone will stay for the matinee.” Though not the best comeback, it gave enough time for the wheels in Sly’s head to turn. If a musical tennis match was what it would take to snap her out of her trance, then so be it.
For a while, it seemed to Sly he had all the angles figured. Carmelita stayed on her perch and sang all manner of scale routines and vocal selections while he shifted from chair to chair, smacking the notes as they came and sending them right back at her. Every successful strike, though no physical harm was done, caused the fox to falter to the point her notes were quivering and sparking in the air. Of course the issues were not one sided; the seats continued swapping about, less chairs were giving him a way forward and his arms had started shaking from the strength of his cane’s vibrations. Despite it all, he was closing the gap between himself and the vixen on stage.
As he did so however, he couldn’t stop himself from eyeing Carmelita’s new bulky frame. Octavio was responsible no doubt, just like the rest of this situation, but Sly had to give credit for how well the armor fit her. It gave her an air of regality that Sly wasn’t used to with her. He had seen her in evening dresses at balls, India came to mind, but the armor was something else.
Even more, he knew he couldn’t hide his blushing arousal over the thought of hugging the chubby vixen. He had enjoyed her appearance before, but there was something about this newer, fatter Carmelita that he just found arousing.
This tangent of thoughts had only taken a second, but at Sly’s close range, it was the worst thing he could do. A series of eighth notes shot through the air, striking Cooper in the head. He didn’t feel any pain, but the world blurred and twisted as each note echoed in his mind. Emboldened by her success, Carmelita sped herself up, a river of musical energy flowing to her target. The raccoon was awash in these rapids, floundering to find a foothold to escape to.
Soon though, his desire to escape had vanished. His eyes flashed a golden hue. A drunken smile came to his face as his cane slid down his hand. To him Carmelita shined onstage as if she truly was some godly warrior, her serenade blacking out all but her. Whole bars of her music wrapped around Sly as he slunk into the seat, hugging him tight and keeping his eyes and ears solely focused on the performance.
A private performance. One he couldn’t believe he had been fighting against just a few moments ago.
Her most recent scale over with, Carmelita took a breath and noted Sly’s position. He was no longer fighting, no longer resisting, fully intent on hearing the beautiful sounds of opera.
Her own personal opera, one that would have a happy ending she had wanted for so long.
When next she sang, it wasn’t a simple bar or scale, but the song of her heart, poured out to the thief in the front row.
Though not much to read in English, it’s beauty in the traditional language of Opera was befitting a song of such desire.
My love
Too long have we stood apart
Forced to fight in worlds of danger
Never accepting the beauty of another
My mind has been cleansed,
The path to my heart hanging wide
And I urge you to follow me through.
With her shield holstered on her armor, Carmelita held out a free hand to Sly. The raccoon slowly came forward half by acceptance and half by the musical force pushing him on.
No more strife
Only beauty and love
Let the past drown in our future
The magic of Opera our guide
Sly was pulled onstage and dragged straight to the waiting warmth of the songstress. With no order, he wrapped his arms around her, only reaching about halfway. The laugh of the Vixen Valkyrie only made him hug tighter. Carmelita hugged back before holding Sly out in front of her. She wanted him to hear every word.
No longer apart
Together in arms my love
Let my song wash away all
But the one simple fact
I love you Sly Cooper!
With his mind frozen amid the music, Sly could offer no reply. Though in his mind, as Carmelita’s hypnotic voice sunk deeper and deeper in, he wanted nothing more than to accept her offer. To proclaim his love for her as well as his dismissal of all else.
How could he have been so blind, so deaf? The vixen of his dreams could never have been more right about anything in either of their lives.
All he could do was lean as far as he could, trying to give his musical fiancée-to-be a kiss. Carmelita was all too happy to close the gap. For almost a minute, the two remained in that state, the rest of that underground theatre nonexistent. When Carmelita broke off the kiss, she heaved the raccoon into her arms, cradling him as if they had already stated ‘I do.’
“Now Cooper, Octavio is wishing for me to give my own performance at his recital, a sort of ‘future and past’ thing.” Carmelita carried her thrall off stage right and into the back. “With how skilled you are, I have no doubt you’ll make a fine duet partner. For now though, a small feast is in order.”
Waiting for the pair backstage was a large table adorned with all manner of Italian delicacies and flanked by a score of Octavio’s forces. A large, gilded pot stood as center piece of the display, and the rich aroma of homemade spaghetti snuck out from it’s lid. All exhaustion left Sly as he leapt from Carmelita’s arms and sat himself down. The hefty vixen sat across. Neither noticed a cluster of goons at the back checking their ear plugs, the only things keeping them safe from Carmelita’s power.
“Now Cooper,” Carmelita took Sly’s plate and grabbed a ladle by the massive spaghetti pot, “Eat as much as you desire. I’ve learned to do so, and I’ve never been happier.” Heap after dripping heap of thick noodles and sauce fell from the ladle, guards tossing two pieces of garlic bread for each scoop. The entranced Sly couldn’t hope to stop his mouth from watering. When the vixen was done, she set the plate down to fill her own, during which Sly dug in.
“Mama Mia, I wanna be buried in her sauce! It’s heaven.”
The words of a particular guard on his mother’s pasta sauce came back and now Sly understood. A small kick from the spices mixed with the tender consistency of the noodles and the meaty sauce sent his mind reeling even more than it already was. He didn’t whether shoveling in or slow savoring was the best course for enjoyment. Watching his love’s own methodical enjoyment, he chose the latter.
“You’re already learning.” Carmelita cooed as she slid a plate of tomatoes and mozzarella under his nose, “No reason to worry or fear Sly. No one will steal what is yours or hurt you with me. Just relax and enjoy.” The fox stuffed a slice of toast slippery with jam with such skill not a crumb got on her costume. She watched as Cooper continued to indulge in the feast, slipping between bowls of Caponata and Risotto Alla Milanese. The raccoon made no effort to stop her as she plucked his cane from beside his chair and tossed it over with the rest of her props.
After taking a large bite of her own food, she began a low, melodious chant.
Eat and Forget Cooper.
Eat and Forget.
Eat and Forget.
Eat, my love.
Eat and Forget.
Sly had no defense against the whispers of his love. His life of hardship and thievery was slipping from his grasp, replaced with a love of opera, the buffet he was gorging on, and of course the lovely Valkyrie that was Carmelita Fox. He took it as a joyful thing when his shirt began to strain under a slowly inflating stomach.
Epilogue
It was a twisted nightmare for Bentley, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard the turtle scrubbed his binoc-u-com.
His rooftop vantage gave him a clear view of the audience that should not have been there; every café table in the clearing had been taken and folks were standing and waiting in earnest.
“Impossible.” His voice bordered on frustration and panic. “We had taken down the advertising. How could anyone have known?” The audience was there though. He could slap and pinch himself all he wanted, but they were there.
What had Bentley on the verge of a meltdown however was the sight strolling over the muddied canals towards the stage. A procession, headed by Don Octavio, a triumphant grin showing under his mask. A few flashlight welding goons followed after, then followed by the crown jewel of Bentley’s fears.
On the right was Carmelita Fox, rotund and armored in Valkyrie wear, save for her head which held a bridal veil. To the left, an arm locked with hers, was the previously missing Sly Cooper as Bentley had never seen him before. He was just as large as the fox beside him, without a hint of remorse or shame about it, his bulk covered by the poofy dress wear of a prince. So the two lovers walked, arms and tails entwined.
When they finally reached the stage, Octavio said a few words, but Bentley couldn’t hear a word of it through a panic-forged ringing in his ears.
The turtle still had a plan for the lion: blasting him with sleep darts and hoping his chair boosters were powerful enough for him to rush in and nab the demolition switch.
But that hadn’t taken an audience into account. Plus, even if it worked, what would he do about Sly and (to a lesser extent) Carmelita? There was clearly some kind of mind control involved, but how was it to be remedied?
As Bentley pondered his problem, Octavio stepped down and allowed his two protégé center stage. “Once they are done,” he added behind a snicker, “There will be a short intermission where I will make an announcement.” The lion patted his vest pocket, careful not to set his precious switch off too early. The brainwashed duo would sing, and then his ultimatum would be heard, with a lovely test of the consequences of refusal. Then would come his, and therefore Opera’s, grand return to the musical scene.
As vixen and raccoon readied themselves on the platform, they gave Octavio a sidelong glance that prompted a twitch of his whiskers.
My Queen of the land,
Our lives have been twisted for far too long.
My Prince of the World,
Through love we shall see nothing but peace.
I am a better man for having known you
And I now know what truth I was blinded to.
The lion stepped well out of focus from the burly crowd gazed up at the windows of his mansion. His whiskers twitched again as he saw no guard standing there. There was supposed to be someone watching the event, ready to signal if anything was wrong.
I wish to give a confession of love.
I wish to give a confession of love.
Our lives from the past mean nothing
We throw them away for our love and our art.
The world shall be lighter for knowing the truth.
The singers twisted about one another, moving gracefully, especially for their large frames.
But what shall others say of truth?
What do they believe is truth?
Who can we trust to tell it?
Carmelita bounded forward, taking the lead while Cooper cast another glance that Octavio found even more discerning.
Trained as I was for battle and art
I was taught by a master of all
But while I have learned
And hold close to my heart what I know
I find my teacher a fraud.
The whole area shook, glasses clinked against their tables and a few trash cans rocked about in the activity. Only the singers on stage seemed unaffected. Even as the stench of fresh, hot tar became stronger.
Though he once believed in beauty
His heart was made black by vanity
He vowed to crush the audience’s will
Sly now took the lead, with Carmelita holding herself and her shield before Octavio.
My pride is my teacher
was instilled with only love
And saw the vile plan of the fool.
For art and music must serve the world
Not the reverse and not by force.
Now there were guards at the windows, opening them and climbing out as tar pushed over the side. The doors to Octavio’s mansion were flung open as well, guards rushing past, and all stained in various levels of black.
Octavio stared at the scene in disbelief. Nevermind how it was happening, why could it be? He turned to the fox and raccoon, finally seeing the traitorous gleams in their eyes. But how? He had brainwashed the inspector into his perfect Valkyrie, molded her into an opera singer beyond compare save himself. How could she not see his plan was the only way to bring opera and himself back up again? With plan busted and nothing left to lose, he whipped out the demolition switch. He hadn’t time to press it before he felt a sting at the back of the neck. A dart.
His hateful plan disgusted us so
And now we say to you keepers of law
There is the defiler of nature and song
Twisting evil to both.
With his hated disposed
We will bring Opera back how it should:
With a love of the art
And the people who listen.
The whole of the audience rushed to the faltering lion. Their wigs and poorly fitting clothes dropped to reveal bulletproof vests and steely mercenary eyes. They passed by the performers, not seeing the resemblance to their former paymaster, and grabbed Octavio from all directions.
The performers too were oblivious, turning to one another and holding each other tightly.
The darkness vanquished,
And justice restored,
We are now free to admit
What we should have before
Carmelita,
Sly,
Marry me.
Yes.
Link to the aartwork: https://www.deviantart.com/tanaswee.....lita-962613170
It seems Don Octavio had a real ace up his sleeve this time, and it's doubtful if Sly can find a way of out this one. Or will even want to.
I would recommend you download if you can for the full effect of the hypnotic opera. But I know not every can, so...
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“An underground theatre set up like a speakeasy; how pretentious can one guy get?”
Sly couldn’t hear Bentley’s answer under the wave of static screeching from his earpiece. He was either out of range or too far down, and either were possible at this point. The attempt to find an alternate route into the Opera House Mansion of one Don Octavio, though successful, had sent the raccoon scurrying through miles of identical sewer tunnels festering with tar. Making matters worse was the sudden switching of gates, often forcing him to double back into enemy fire.
As such, finding this hideaway seemed like a blessing to the raccoon. The place was well-sealed against the burning chemical odor and, though the main path up was heavily locked, there had to be an extra way back to the surface. It was a perfect find.
Too perfect. Sly’s tail twitched and shivered at the thought.
Far too convenient. Nice to look at though.
The walls, glazed marble with no pipes or jutting fixtures, were impossible to climb on, so Sly was left on the ground floor. Rows and rows of velvet and satin cushions crowded the area, hiding any number of the Don’s goons behind them. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a situation Murray would have loved had he still been-
“He WILL be back.” Sly’s mind spoke over the previous thought. “Once Octavio’s hauled off and the tar gone, he’ll be with the gang again and it’ll be okay.”
That thought was the only comfort to Sly as he continued to stalk the aisles. He had seen no doors so far, but there had to be one behind the stage if anything.
He had reached the center of the audience when the house lights dimmed. Mechanical whirrs echoed around as the inanimate crowds sunk into the floor.
“Mr. Cooper, I thought our last meeting made things clear between us.” The tenor voice of Octavio came from all directions, prompting the raccoon to brandish his cane. “But it seems I have too much faith in the youth to understand their elders. Back in my day, all our grandparents had to do was point and we’d know what they wanted.”
“Really old-timer? Why not face me and prove how great ‘your days’ were?”
The intercom had not stopped for Sly’s retort. “Unfortunately, I am too close to success to be entertaining punks with no appreciation for the arts. Hence the recording. Just the only good thing to come from modern times. But don’t worry; I’m leaving you in the care of my new protégé.”
A flutter of movement caught Sly’s eye, to which he answered with a swipe of his cane. He had hit nothing, for it was the trim stage curtain he had noticed. As the red wall continued to rise, the stage lights went up, illuminating a figure on stage that nearly made Sly drop his cane.
“Carmelita!?”
There was no question it was the inspector; the face and blue hair were unmistakable. That hair however was capped in a horned helmet and her face, along with the rest of her body, was wrapped in pudge. Her clothing too was unnatural for her, her Interpol badge, vest and pants traded in for the attire of some Norse goddess, complete with spear and shield. The fox didn’t seem to acknowledge the raccoon’s surprise, her eyes giving off a dull, beige glaze.
“I found this poor girl on my doorstep and decided she would be far better as a Valkyrie than an Inspector. A far nobler call, I should say.” Carmelita bowed at the recording’s complement. “Now madame, show this rat the true beauty of opera!” The following record scratch was cut with the intercom.
While Sly was frozen in shock, this new Carmelita was ready for a performance. A golden peal emanated from the stage, amplified by the opera house structure to the point of knocking Sly back a foot. Revitalized by the shove, Sly dashed to the left as another auditory wave blasted through. He tried to call out to the vixen, but his voice was a gnat’s footfall to her newfound talent.
The operatic fox on stage would not allow her quarry an easy chase. Underneath the hours of hypnotic training and exercises Octavio had put her through, she still had her memories of Sly’s movement patterns. Her voice bounced through her scales at a rapid pace, making sure to fire at all points in Cooper’s vicinity; ahead and behind and never giving a dodgeable pattern. Yet he kept dodging, kept fighting. It pained her to watch Sly be so afraid of her, of the beauty of opera that she had embraced with all her heart, and that pain was channeled right back into her voice with notes of deep blue and gold arching through the air. They landed on the floor with a thunderclap, sending waves of auditory bliss along the floor. Still the raccoon ran.
With the musical mortars dividing his attention even further, Sly kept floundering over what to do. He had no ear to Bentley (though it was doubtful he would hear him over the noise) and had no desire to harm the beautiful vixen on stage.
Suddenly, the floor underneath Sly opened up. A row of seats sprung out, offsetting his balance, and leaving him wide open for an attack. He only had enough time to see the mottled gold and blue whole note rushing towards him and, on instinct, whacked at it with his cane. The metal sunk in like a hand in cotton before rocketing to the far wall. It popped from the force and the air was filled with a deep ‘A’ tone. Not from Carmelita however, but from Sly’s cane as it shook in his hand.
Both parties saw this phenomenon and, just for a moment, they shared an eager gleam in the eye as if nothing had changed between them.
As soon as Sly noticed it though, Carmelita returned to her theatrical pose.
“So Cooper, you wish to challenge the tune of a Valkyrie after all.” Even when Carmelita spoke, it was with a flamboyant use of vocal warming. “There’s no tuning fork misaligned enough to stop my performance.”
A slight wiggle under his footing prompted Sly to jump sideways, more prepared to land on the fresh chairs popping out of the ground. “If you say so ‘Operalita.’ But I don’t think anyone will stay for the matinee.” Though not the best comeback, it gave enough time for the wheels in Sly’s head to turn. If a musical tennis match was what it would take to snap her out of her trance, then so be it.
For a while, it seemed to Sly he had all the angles figured. Carmelita stayed on her perch and sang all manner of scale routines and vocal selections while he shifted from chair to chair, smacking the notes as they came and sending them right back at her. Every successful strike, though no physical harm was done, caused the fox to falter to the point her notes were quivering and sparking in the air. Of course the issues were not one sided; the seats continued swapping about, less chairs were giving him a way forward and his arms had started shaking from the strength of his cane’s vibrations. Despite it all, he was closing the gap between himself and the vixen on stage.
As he did so however, he couldn’t stop himself from eyeing Carmelita’s new bulky frame. Octavio was responsible no doubt, just like the rest of this situation, but Sly had to give credit for how well the armor fit her. It gave her an air of regality that Sly wasn’t used to with her. He had seen her in evening dresses at balls, India came to mind, but the armor was something else.
Even more, he knew he couldn’t hide his blushing arousal over the thought of hugging the chubby vixen. He had enjoyed her appearance before, but there was something about this newer, fatter Carmelita that he just found arousing.
This tangent of thoughts had only taken a second, but at Sly’s close range, it was the worst thing he could do. A series of eighth notes shot through the air, striking Cooper in the head. He didn’t feel any pain, but the world blurred and twisted as each note echoed in his mind. Emboldened by her success, Carmelita sped herself up, a river of musical energy flowing to her target. The raccoon was awash in these rapids, floundering to find a foothold to escape to.
Soon though, his desire to escape had vanished. His eyes flashed a golden hue. A drunken smile came to his face as his cane slid down his hand. To him Carmelita shined onstage as if she truly was some godly warrior, her serenade blacking out all but her. Whole bars of her music wrapped around Sly as he slunk into the seat, hugging him tight and keeping his eyes and ears solely focused on the performance.
A private performance. One he couldn’t believe he had been fighting against just a few moments ago.
Her most recent scale over with, Carmelita took a breath and noted Sly’s position. He was no longer fighting, no longer resisting, fully intent on hearing the beautiful sounds of opera.
Her own personal opera, one that would have a happy ending she had wanted for so long.
When next she sang, it wasn’t a simple bar or scale, but the song of her heart, poured out to the thief in the front row.
Though not much to read in English, it’s beauty in the traditional language of Opera was befitting a song of such desire.
My love
Too long have we stood apart
Forced to fight in worlds of danger
Never accepting the beauty of another
My mind has been cleansed,
The path to my heart hanging wide
And I urge you to follow me through.
With her shield holstered on her armor, Carmelita held out a free hand to Sly. The raccoon slowly came forward half by acceptance and half by the musical force pushing him on.
No more strife
Only beauty and love
Let the past drown in our future
The magic of Opera our guide
Sly was pulled onstage and dragged straight to the waiting warmth of the songstress. With no order, he wrapped his arms around her, only reaching about halfway. The laugh of the Vixen Valkyrie only made him hug tighter. Carmelita hugged back before holding Sly out in front of her. She wanted him to hear every word.
No longer apart
Together in arms my love
Let my song wash away all
But the one simple fact
I love you Sly Cooper!
With his mind frozen amid the music, Sly could offer no reply. Though in his mind, as Carmelita’s hypnotic voice sunk deeper and deeper in, he wanted nothing more than to accept her offer. To proclaim his love for her as well as his dismissal of all else.
How could he have been so blind, so deaf? The vixen of his dreams could never have been more right about anything in either of their lives.
All he could do was lean as far as he could, trying to give his musical fiancée-to-be a kiss. Carmelita was all too happy to close the gap. For almost a minute, the two remained in that state, the rest of that underground theatre nonexistent. When Carmelita broke off the kiss, she heaved the raccoon into her arms, cradling him as if they had already stated ‘I do.’
“Now Cooper, Octavio is wishing for me to give my own performance at his recital, a sort of ‘future and past’ thing.” Carmelita carried her thrall off stage right and into the back. “With how skilled you are, I have no doubt you’ll make a fine duet partner. For now though, a small feast is in order.”
Waiting for the pair backstage was a large table adorned with all manner of Italian delicacies and flanked by a score of Octavio’s forces. A large, gilded pot stood as center piece of the display, and the rich aroma of homemade spaghetti snuck out from it’s lid. All exhaustion left Sly as he leapt from Carmelita’s arms and sat himself down. The hefty vixen sat across. Neither noticed a cluster of goons at the back checking their ear plugs, the only things keeping them safe from Carmelita’s power.
“Now Cooper,” Carmelita took Sly’s plate and grabbed a ladle by the massive spaghetti pot, “Eat as much as you desire. I’ve learned to do so, and I’ve never been happier.” Heap after dripping heap of thick noodles and sauce fell from the ladle, guards tossing two pieces of garlic bread for each scoop. The entranced Sly couldn’t hope to stop his mouth from watering. When the vixen was done, she set the plate down to fill her own, during which Sly dug in.
“Mama Mia, I wanna be buried in her sauce! It’s heaven.”
The words of a particular guard on his mother’s pasta sauce came back and now Sly understood. A small kick from the spices mixed with the tender consistency of the noodles and the meaty sauce sent his mind reeling even more than it already was. He didn’t whether shoveling in or slow savoring was the best course for enjoyment. Watching his love’s own methodical enjoyment, he chose the latter.
“You’re already learning.” Carmelita cooed as she slid a plate of tomatoes and mozzarella under his nose, “No reason to worry or fear Sly. No one will steal what is yours or hurt you with me. Just relax and enjoy.” The fox stuffed a slice of toast slippery with jam with such skill not a crumb got on her costume. She watched as Cooper continued to indulge in the feast, slipping between bowls of Caponata and Risotto Alla Milanese. The raccoon made no effort to stop her as she plucked his cane from beside his chair and tossed it over with the rest of her props.
After taking a large bite of her own food, she began a low, melodious chant.
Eat and Forget Cooper.
Eat and Forget.
Eat and Forget.
Eat, my love.
Eat and Forget.
Sly had no defense against the whispers of his love. His life of hardship and thievery was slipping from his grasp, replaced with a love of opera, the buffet he was gorging on, and of course the lovely Valkyrie that was Carmelita Fox. He took it as a joyful thing when his shirt began to strain under a slowly inflating stomach.
Epilogue
It was a twisted nightmare for Bentley, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard the turtle scrubbed his binoc-u-com.
His rooftop vantage gave him a clear view of the audience that should not have been there; every café table in the clearing had been taken and folks were standing and waiting in earnest.
“Impossible.” His voice bordered on frustration and panic. “We had taken down the advertising. How could anyone have known?” The audience was there though. He could slap and pinch himself all he wanted, but they were there.
What had Bentley on the verge of a meltdown however was the sight strolling over the muddied canals towards the stage. A procession, headed by Don Octavio, a triumphant grin showing under his mask. A few flashlight welding goons followed after, then followed by the crown jewel of Bentley’s fears.
On the right was Carmelita Fox, rotund and armored in Valkyrie wear, save for her head which held a bridal veil. To the left, an arm locked with hers, was the previously missing Sly Cooper as Bentley had never seen him before. He was just as large as the fox beside him, without a hint of remorse or shame about it, his bulk covered by the poofy dress wear of a prince. So the two lovers walked, arms and tails entwined.
When they finally reached the stage, Octavio said a few words, but Bentley couldn’t hear a word of it through a panic-forged ringing in his ears.
The turtle still had a plan for the lion: blasting him with sleep darts and hoping his chair boosters were powerful enough for him to rush in and nab the demolition switch.
But that hadn’t taken an audience into account. Plus, even if it worked, what would he do about Sly and (to a lesser extent) Carmelita? There was clearly some kind of mind control involved, but how was it to be remedied?
As Bentley pondered his problem, Octavio stepped down and allowed his two protégé center stage. “Once they are done,” he added behind a snicker, “There will be a short intermission where I will make an announcement.” The lion patted his vest pocket, careful not to set his precious switch off too early. The brainwashed duo would sing, and then his ultimatum would be heard, with a lovely test of the consequences of refusal. Then would come his, and therefore Opera’s, grand return to the musical scene.
As vixen and raccoon readied themselves on the platform, they gave Octavio a sidelong glance that prompted a twitch of his whiskers.
My Queen of the land,
Our lives have been twisted for far too long.
My Prince of the World,
Through love we shall see nothing but peace.
I am a better man for having known you
And I now know what truth I was blinded to.
The lion stepped well out of focus from the burly crowd gazed up at the windows of his mansion. His whiskers twitched again as he saw no guard standing there. There was supposed to be someone watching the event, ready to signal if anything was wrong.
I wish to give a confession of love.
I wish to give a confession of love.
Our lives from the past mean nothing
We throw them away for our love and our art.
The world shall be lighter for knowing the truth.
The singers twisted about one another, moving gracefully, especially for their large frames.
But what shall others say of truth?
What do they believe is truth?
Who can we trust to tell it?
Carmelita bounded forward, taking the lead while Cooper cast another glance that Octavio found even more discerning.
Trained as I was for battle and art
I was taught by a master of all
But while I have learned
And hold close to my heart what I know
I find my teacher a fraud.
The whole area shook, glasses clinked against their tables and a few trash cans rocked about in the activity. Only the singers on stage seemed unaffected. Even as the stench of fresh, hot tar became stronger.
Though he once believed in beauty
His heart was made black by vanity
He vowed to crush the audience’s will
Sly now took the lead, with Carmelita holding herself and her shield before Octavio.
My pride is my teacher
was instilled with only love
And saw the vile plan of the fool.
For art and music must serve the world
Not the reverse and not by force.
Now there were guards at the windows, opening them and climbing out as tar pushed over the side. The doors to Octavio’s mansion were flung open as well, guards rushing past, and all stained in various levels of black.
Octavio stared at the scene in disbelief. Nevermind how it was happening, why could it be? He turned to the fox and raccoon, finally seeing the traitorous gleams in their eyes. But how? He had brainwashed the inspector into his perfect Valkyrie, molded her into an opera singer beyond compare save himself. How could she not see his plan was the only way to bring opera and himself back up again? With plan busted and nothing left to lose, he whipped out the demolition switch. He hadn’t time to press it before he felt a sting at the back of the neck. A dart.
His hateful plan disgusted us so
And now we say to you keepers of law
There is the defiler of nature and song
Twisting evil to both.
With his hated disposed
We will bring Opera back how it should:
With a love of the art
And the people who listen.
The whole of the audience rushed to the faltering lion. Their wigs and poorly fitting clothes dropped to reveal bulletproof vests and steely mercenary eyes. They passed by the performers, not seeing the resemblance to their former paymaster, and grabbed Octavio from all directions.
The performers too were oblivious, turning to one another and holding each other tightly.
The darkness vanquished,
And justice restored,
We are now free to admit
What we should have before
Carmelita,
Sly,
Marry me.
Yes.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 120 x 83px
I’m going to be honest I really in joyed this, I think it’s because I love reading story that do something unique, that and your very good with wordy. I give this story a 10/10. Keep up the great work
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