Chapter Text
“You have become far too attached to those children."
The words were murmured quietly by the lynx sitting beside Carmen, his amber eyes fixed uon her in silent amusement. But for the slight twitch of one of his tufted ears, he was still as a statue, seated by her side like a Sphinx and as equally stern and brooding.
“Oh, hush,” Carmen tutted. She dropped one hand to ghost across the top of his head, a light smile playing at her lips. “What is the old adage: ‘know thy enemy?’”
The lynx blinked slowly and then returned to his piercing stare. “I believe it is ‘know thy self, know thy enemy*,’” he responded drolly, “but what would I know; evidently I hardly seem to know myself." He stretched, paws flexing, and smoothed a fluff of fur from his forearm. "You certainly never seem to choose to act as I would."
Carmen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Must you always be so contrary?” she asked rhetorically.
Her daemon chuckled. “Yes, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Someone has to keep you grounded.” He offered her a toothy, open-mouthed yawn. "Why else would I be here?"
Humming noncommittally, Carmen swiveled in her desk chair, hands returning to her keyboard to type out a few final commands on her computer. Her bright blue eyes scanned the screen of the slim laptop, blinking intermittently as she reviewed the string of text. She pursed her lips, nodded, and tapped the mouse again, eyes narrowing as she tracked the progress of her download. “I hope it doesn’t come to this,” she murmured, extracting a minuscule flash drive and slipping it into an inner pocket, “but now we are prepared nevertheless.” She flipped the laptop screen down and slid the device into her waiting bag in a single, fluid movement.
Standing, she sighed. “Perhaps...perhaps the agents have come to mean more to me than they should,” she confessed, a callback to a long-standing argument between them. The flippant tone of her voice was not nearly sufficient to mask the true affection hidden within her words, and she winced internally as she heard it. Her daemon knew her better than she knew herself; he'd hear it even more readily than she did.
“‘More than they should’, the feline snorted, mimicking her words with as close to a grin as he could muster. “Carmen, you adore those children." He narrowed his eyes. "I do as well. Unfortunately, that means that every caper is going to be more difficult to successfully execute. The stakes are going to be higher, and we're going to have to be careful. It’s already started, Carmen, way back even before the Maelstrom disaster.” The lynx paused to delicately clean his paws. “We care, Carmen. They have an irritating way of worming themselves into our affections, and, besides that—“
“They remind us of when we were that age, yes, I know.” Carmen cut him off, eyes narrowed. “And none of that, Kyprioth, is relevant today. This time we are not playing ACME’s game; we are dealing with criminals far beyond the capabilities of Zack and Ivy.” Her face hardened, a spread of emotions flitting across it too quickly to name. Only their connection allowed Kyprioth to feel them just as keenly, and he stood to butt his head against her hip.
“And may they never have to deal with such individuals,” he said lowly, giving voice to their dearest wish. Between Maelstrom and Lee Jordan, the young detectives had already come too close to the line of fire for Carmen’s wishes. Her heists were complex, grandiose, well-planned, and—most importantly, in the eyes of her and her daemon—never involved the use of deadly force.
Other criminals were not nearly so accommodating.
Carmen grimaced. “I would much prefer we not have to interact with such individuals as well,” she remarked, sweeping her hat off the desk and placing it carefully atop her head, “but needs must, and we need that data file—and need it kept out of any unfriendly hands.”
The file in question was obscure---didn't even exist, according to any legitimate sources. However, what it was, what it could do, was far more dangerous than any bank safe code or encrypted password. The data it contained detailed every personal detail--every family member, every past and present address, every iota of available information---that was on record for each and every domestic government agent. And, that included ACME.
Carmen had heard about it though one of her dark web sources, and the news of an upcoming auction of such spicy information had instantly set her on high alert. Every criminal with even the slightest means of funding such a bid would be in attendance, each with the same goal as her own: obtain the data, at any cost.
“I don’t see why we cannot simply steal the file and be done with it,” Kyprioth groused, following her from the room.
Carmen chuckled, exiting the small warehouse in which she had set up a temporary base. “Oh Kyp, you know as well as I do we will absolutely end up stealing the file,” she replied. There was no way that even Carmen’s extensive resources would come close to matching even ten of the other criminals who would be in attendance; all-too-willing to employ violence as a means to an end, many of her barely-associates had mustered criminal empires so vast they made hers appear a pond sitting beside an ocean. There would be no VILE today, no henchmen or associates. They only muddied the waters, added additional complexities and egos.
Those ploys were for another, quieter day, a day when losses could be afforded and—indeed—expected. Today it was simply Carmen Sandiego and and her daemon.
It was with that mentality Carmen and Kyprioth strode boldly into the large assembly hall, eyes stern and firm and betraying no emotion as they entered the room that easily held over one hundred of the world’s most infamous and unforgiving criminals. Two hundred pairs of eyes—one for each human, and one for his or her daemon—swiveled to stare at the master thief and her other half as they sidled across the back of the crowded hall and settled against the wall in the rear.
A small table was set up at the head of the room on a small raised dais, manned by a tall, greying woman of severe features and an unforgiving grimace. Behind her paced a large hyena, the daemon occasionally offering a quiet comment or an amused yip at something she had said in return.
“Jacquelyn Hyde,” Kyprioth murmured, tipping his luminous golden eyes up to meet Carmen’s blue.
“And her daemon,” Carmon sniffed disapprovingly, barely sparing the bow-legged daemon a glance. Warlow had a reputation for brutally eliminating the daemons of any potential threats to Hyde’s rapidly-expanding criminal empire—as well as their humans. Such a strict taboo so ruthlessly ignored was horrific to consider. Just the thought of her daemon touching another person, let alone harming them, made Carmen shudder in disgust. Hyde herself was well-known throughout multiple international circles for her ruthless intelligence and tendency to reach for brute force as her means of climbing the criminal ladder; she was quick and cruel and barbaric in her approach to nearly every contentious issue.
“If she is running this show,” the lynx murmured, “then the game might have already shifted beyond our control.”
Carmen hummed her assent, mind whipping through all the possible scenarios that she had crafted. ‘Steal the drive and make a run for it’ was situated well toward the bottom of her list, as she rarely preferred to take such a sloppy approach. However, as she made eye contact with Hyde and observed the woman’s thin, poisonous smile—well, suddenly Plan Z didn’t seem like a bad option after all.
She knew from that single look that Hyde would never willingly allow Carmen to leave that auction with the data in hand—it was too valuable, and Carmen too much a wildcard amongst the darker side of the law. She was an internationally-wanted criminal, yes, but also one well-known to have a conscious and follow her own brand of morality. In the eyes of the greater criminal community, that in itself was an unforgivable crime.
Getting the drive was a matter of necessity, however, and Carmen caught Hyde’s eyes again, this time with a slow smile of her own tugging at her lips. Blue eyes narrowed, she allowed a brazen look of challenge to slip briefly across her face. “Game on,” she murmured, and, tipping her hat toward Hyde, slid back toward the door through which she had entered and began her long trek through the hive-like network of corridors. She'd leave them to their auction; it was time to get to work.
An hour seemed to pass in an instant, and Carmen soon found herself before the secure lockbox in which the drive was contained. Eyes narrowed, she tipped her ear to the metal and fidgeted with the lock. "So gauche," she murmured to Kyprioth, listening for the tumblers to click and the lock to unlatch. Admittedly, she had already maneuvered through a maze of tripwires, motion-sensors, several armed guards and their daemons, and a time-sensitive, motion-activated barred door that would have stumped all but the most agile of adversaries. For the infamous Carmen Sandiego, however, that was child's-play.
"Aaaah." She breathed a satisfied sigh as the door swung open on its small hinges, and reached in to pluck the drive from its resting place. "Such a small thing to pose such a threat," she remarked. Her eyes darkened and she slid it into her pocket. The easy part was done--now she had to ensure no trace of the data remained elsewhere; she could all but guarantee Hyde had copied the files first and set aside multiple versions on her server.
Kyprioth was already moving, trotting back out into the main hallway, his ears pricked to listen for the hum of a computer or the whrrr of a server. "In here, Carmen!" he exclaimed, eyes luminescent even beneath the failing fluorescent lights.
In an instant, Carmen was beside him, slipping her own flash drive from her pocket. Her work earlier that day had been completing the final code for an elaborate virus designed, once installed, to worm its way through Hyde's system and systematically destroy any trace of ACME from the inside out--and, as a parting gift, transfer any accessible financial assets to an untraceable Swiss account.
"I like that final parting touch," Kyp complimented, knowing precisely where her mind had gone as she inserted the drive with a smirk.
"Waste not," Carmen murmured appreciatively, opening her file with a few clicks. She pressed her final key, she stepped back to watch her virus get to work, a pleased smile playing at her lips.
"Carmen Sandiego!!" The sharp voice from the door had her whirling sharply about, feet spreading as she shifted her stance, prepared to run. The room was compact, but there was a door on the opposite side that offered an outlet to the maze of corridors beyond. Jacquelyn Hyde and her hulking daemon stood in the closer doorframe, the older woman's lips pulled back in a furious snarl mirrored by her daemon's grizzled muzzle. "You bitch--I expected a double-cross, but not one so brazen--" She pulled a gun from its holster and fired, never stopping the fluid motion of her arm as she drew the weapon to bring it to aim.
Carmen had anticipated the shot and was already moving, diving out of the way toward the opposite door. She felt the bullet graze her side, raking across the sensitive skin of her ribs, and hissed between clenched teeth. There was no time to falter--not with Warlow already barreling toward them. She and Kyp knew well the hyena would not hesitate to tear either of them apart, taboo-be-damned.
She wheeled out of the room, hand flying to the inner pocket of her coat to feel for the precious drive contained therein. Feeling the small lump, she allowed a small, victorious smile. An army of henchmen waited just around the corner of the next hall, and she gritted her teeth and dove straight through them, hoping her sudden appearance and current momentum would be sufficient to stall them long enough for her to break through. She made it, but barely--a few regained themselves enough to land a blow, and she winced as she felt their strikes catch at her torso and back.
"We need to get out of here," Kyp yowled, dancing between her feet and the henchmen as he weaved in and out of the way of their German Shepard daemons.
"Agreed," Carmen said curtly, and they took off once more, launching themselves down the hall at a dead sprint with the now-alert figurative hordes of hell nipping at their heels.
Eyes wild, she tore down the narrow hallway, coattails flapping behind her as she ran with Kyprioth hot in pursuit, the sounds of snarling dog daemons and screaming hired guns mere meters behind. The flash drive she reached to clutch again contained all of the files—all of the files—and even now her virus was worming its way into their system and working meticulously to eradicate any residual trace of the sensitive information.
The taste of victory was sweet, but even with the pulse of well-earned adrenaline that coursed through her body her side burned where Hyde’s bullet—a parting gift fired with unerring accuracy—had clipped her, scraping across the thin skin of her ribs to carve a searing line into her flesh. She could hear Kyp’s labored breathing as they ran, his sharp gasps more than just adrenaline and their mad sprint.
Two goons followed them, screaming commands in broken English and firing bullets haphazardly in their direction. Carmen could feel the air hiss as another bullet flew over her head. She swore, the vulgar curse slipping through lips that preferred to refrain from such crass exclamations. They could not afford another injury at all, let alone a bullet to the head or heart.
Her side throbbed in agreement, the dark blood streaming from the gash staining her coat a deeper, rustier red.
“We can’t keep going at this pace much longer,” Kyprioth panted, his golden eyes dark with pain and fatigue. His large paws landed silently on the wide tile, claws retracted as he loped beside her in pace with her sprint.
“We only have to make it to the window,” Carmen replied, with a calm that belied the racing of her heart and the sliver of doubt that had slipped in to pierce her ironclad certainty in this desperate plan.
Though hoping not to be found out, she had planned on every contingency, and had arranged an escape craft on the off chance Jacquelyn became aware of the double-cross prematurely. Even so, the best made plans always had the potential to fail—and this was one instance where that absolutely could not be the case.
“Carmen, ahead!” Kyp exclaimed, leaping ahead to bound up against the windowsill and knock the latch with his paw.
Palms splayed wide, Carmen caught herself against the window frame, wincing as uneven wood cut through the fabric of her gloves to dig into the meat of her palms. “Just have to get the glass open,” she murmured, brows drawn tightly together, giving an upward heave to jimmy the now-unlocked window. It groaned but did not move.
Swearing again—a record for her, twice in one day—she shoved harder, expelling a silent sigh of relief as the window finally gave and slid smoothly upward. “Go, Kyp,” she murmured, slipping back to let the lynx out the window first. He jumped, flew through the air, and landed cleanly in the cabin of the waiting hovercraft.
“Carmen!” He yelled. “Time!”
She nodded and stepped through the window, resting her heels against the thin wooden sill on the outside. The only joy of multi-story buildings was that they made it much simpler to facilitate an untraceable escape. She leapt, but as she did she felt a searing pain in her left shoulder. Twisting midair, she caught the sneering face of Hyde, body suspended half out the window and a bloody knife brandished in one hand.
Carmen hit the carpeted cabin much less gracefully than her daemon, legs buckling beneath her and torso crumpling to the ground. She let out a pained cry, angling her body so that she curled in on her injured side, landing on her still-good shoulder. Already set on autopilot to flee the scene, the hovercraft soared into the sky.
“Carmen!!” Kyp exclaimed, pain and alarm mixing thickly to coat his voice. “I can feel it, are you alright?”
“Mmm.” She hummed something that she hoped sounded like assent. Shucking her coat, she peeled off the sweat-and-blood soaked shirt she had worn underneath, leaving herself in a practical dark sports bra and her skirt. Thought the goal had been to maintain the semblance of normalcy for this caper, she had made some adjustments to her wardrobe to facilitate an easier escape should events so require—comfortable t-shirt, tactical skirt divided for running, heels with modified soles to disguise their true mobility. Her skin was marred by a smattering of bruises, souvenirs from those first few frantic moments where she had been far too close to comfort to Hyde’s hired muscle.
“They’re almost on us, Carmen!” her daemon yowled in her ear, glancing back and catching sight of a handful of approaching airborne craft. “It has to be now.”
Lurching forward, Carmen flung herself at the controls and sent the hovercraft screaming off in to the night in a streak of scarlet, leaving their pursuers floundering well in their wake.
“Where do we go now?” the lynx asked. “Our warehouse is compromised, it has to be—they knew our plan even before we decided to enact it.” His eyes were glassy with pain, his muscled chest heaving with each deep breath he took. Carmen’s pain resonated within him, the aftershocks lancing through them both with staggering acuity.
The thief was already in motion, typing out coordinates into her system and setting the craft to full autopilot. Jerkily, she slid from her seat and pulled the overlarge tactical first aid kit from beneath it, unzipping the case and strewing the contents across the floor. “Somewhere they would never think to find us,” she murmured, giving her daemon a tight smile.
She eyed the small bottle of antiseptic that had rolled from the bag and grimaced. “So inelegant,” she sighed, “but needs must.” Twisting, she opened the cap and unceremoniously dumped the contents across her wounded shoulder, eyes blurring as she clenched her jaw against the blazing agony that erupted across the deep puncture.
“Damn it and blast it all to hell, Carmen,” Kyp roared, ears flat against his head. His claws extended as he flexed his paws, sharpened tips digging into the carpet of the hovercraft. “Must you?”
“If you don’t want us to be delirious with fever and rotting with infection…yes,” she said dryly, stuffing the wound with gauze. Contorting, she tied a tight roll of wrapping around the entire wound, using her teeth to tie it off. “This should hold temporarily until we can get some stitches in it,” she said, satisfied.
The lynx eyed her slapdash first aid with distaste, all but rolling his eyes as she hastily wrapped the gash across her ribs as well. “That,” he declared, “is hideous.”
Carmen did not answer, already sliding the seat back into place and sinking back against the cushion, eyes closed and teeth clenched as a brace against the pain.
Muttering, Kyprioth settled in the opposite seat, setting his chin on the armrest so he could keep an eye on Carmen as she rested. “Needs must,” he harrumphed. “Really.” Sighing, he gave the coordinates Carmen had entered as their destination a long, slow look. “Ah. Of course….” He tipped his liquid amber eyes over at his partner, affection warring with resignation in a long-practiced glance. “Where else?” Sighing, he cleaned a spot of blood from his coat.
It was going to be a long ride.