Laverna
Goddess of thieves
- Best answers
- 0
- Known Aliases
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Ferret
Brat
Bonnie Parker
Bon park
.Carmen Sandiego frowned slightly, a deep unease knotting in her stomach as she navigated the shadows of her new life in 1989. It had only been three months since she had severed ties with ACME, cutting off all contact and erasing her tracks, leaving behind any trace of her future plans.
In the weeks that followed, she found refuge in homeless camps, hidden among the forgotten and the lost. Yet, whenever a former colleague spotted her, they’d rush to drag her back, as if they still had the legal authority to claim her. At barely twenty, she was no longer ACME's ward; like most young women her age, she craved freedom, the kind that felt just out of reach.
The ACME detective agency, however, didn’t seem to comprehend that their guardianship had expired two years prior. It wasn’t as simple as filing papers to reclaim their once-golden girl; they would have to paint her as incompetent, insane, or foolish to gain a conservatorship.
Carmen peered out from the small tent she shared with a young blonde street kid. The girl’s wide, innocent eyes were filled with concern as she called out, “Auntie Carmen?”
“What is it, Patty?” Carmen replied, her gaze scanning their surroundings for any sign of trouble.
“The Japanese man who keeps asking you to come home—who is he?” Patty’s voice trembled slightly, her curiosity genuine, as she couldn't have been more than five years old.
“He’s no one important,” Carmen said, forcing a soft smile. In truth, that man was Detective Suhara, who had sacrificed his career to search for her, a fact that still eluded Carmen.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Carmen’s abdomen, pulling her back to the present. It wasn’t period cramps—those had come two weeks ago. Bolting upright, she startled Patty, who looked at her with wide eyes.
“Don’t worry! I’ll go get help!” Patty exclaimed, her frizzy blonde hair bouncing as she rushed to her feet.
“Don’t!” Carmen rasped, but it was too late. The girl had already dashed out of the camp, determined to find a law enforcement officer to assist her best friend.
Carmen gritted her teeth, feeling her fever worsen. She didn’t want help; she didn’t need it. Clenching her fists, she braced herself for the worst, mentally preparing for whatever was happening inside her to take its toll.
Carmen slipped into unconsciousness, thinking she was just drifting into sleep to escape the pain. When she finally woke, the steady beeping of a heart monitor filled her ears, the sterile smell of the hospital unmistakable. Voices, familiar but distant, reached her.
“She’s been living on the streets by choice—no wonder she got sick,” Julia Argent’s voice cut through the fog, sharp with sarcasm.
“Appendicitis can happen to anyone,” Chief chimed in, his usual wit at play. “Well, not me, of course—I’m a robot.”
“She’s in for it now. Lynne’s going to run her through the wringer,” Julia muttered, frustration evident in her tone.
“No, she won’t,” came a gruff voice from the doorway. Suhara entered the room, his dark eyes narrowing at Julia, silently chastising her. He hadn’t worked with Carmen in a while—that role had fallen to Jules recently—but Suhara had been by Carmen’s side longer than anyone else, from the age of 12.
Julia might have thought she knew Carmen, but Suhara carried the weight of years that no one else in the room could match. His presence alone quieted the bickering, a reminder that Carmen had more history with him than anyone realized.
Carmen’s eyes flickered open to find the familiar faces around her. A surge of irritation washed over her as she recognized the tension in the room. “Oh look, a wonderful reunion,” she said, her tone sharp. “Pardon my language, Suhara, but Jules is a self-absorbed bitch who thinks she knows everything about me.”
With a sigh, Suhara moved closer, gently pressing her back into the bed. “Easy there. You just had emergency surgery,” he said, his voice calm but firm, the concern in his eyes unmistakable.
Carmen huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but the dull ache in her abdomen reminded her that she wasn’t in any condition to fight.
Suhara stood firm, his expression resolute as he gestured for Jules to leave. She twitched her nose, her glasses slipping slightly down her face. “So I’m the problem?” she protested, her voice rising. “I have nothing to do with this!”
Before she could say another word, Chief stepped in, his mechanical frame towering as he helped Suhara usher Jules out of the room. The robotic detective practically pushed her through the door, his strength leaving no room for resistance.
Carmen leaned back against her pillows, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and exasperation. The door clicked shut, and the two men returned to her side, leaving her to ponder the fallout of the confrontation until visitation time was officially over.
“We’ll see you first thing in the morning,” Suhara promised, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. Chief followed suit, mimicking the gesture, which made Carmen chuckle.
“Bye, boys,” she teased, a playful grin spreading across her face.
When morning arrived, Suhara and Chief returned, but the mood shifted as they entered the room. Both men froze, their eyes locked on the stark message scrawled in bold red dry-erase marker on the board across from her bed: “I’m never coming home. Love, Carmen.”
The words hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of her fierce independence and the choices she had made
((I’m actually leaving the site permanently))
In the weeks that followed, she found refuge in homeless camps, hidden among the forgotten and the lost. Yet, whenever a former colleague spotted her, they’d rush to drag her back, as if they still had the legal authority to claim her. At barely twenty, she was no longer ACME's ward; like most young women her age, she craved freedom, the kind that felt just out of reach.
The ACME detective agency, however, didn’t seem to comprehend that their guardianship had expired two years prior. It wasn’t as simple as filing papers to reclaim their once-golden girl; they would have to paint her as incompetent, insane, or foolish to gain a conservatorship.
Carmen peered out from the small tent she shared with a young blonde street kid. The girl’s wide, innocent eyes were filled with concern as she called out, “Auntie Carmen?”
“What is it, Patty?” Carmen replied, her gaze scanning their surroundings for any sign of trouble.
“The Japanese man who keeps asking you to come home—who is he?” Patty’s voice trembled slightly, her curiosity genuine, as she couldn't have been more than five years old.
“He’s no one important,” Carmen said, forcing a soft smile. In truth, that man was Detective Suhara, who had sacrificed his career to search for her, a fact that still eluded Carmen.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Carmen’s abdomen, pulling her back to the present. It wasn’t period cramps—those had come two weeks ago. Bolting upright, she startled Patty, who looked at her with wide eyes.
“Don’t worry! I’ll go get help!” Patty exclaimed, her frizzy blonde hair bouncing as she rushed to her feet.
“Don’t!” Carmen rasped, but it was too late. The girl had already dashed out of the camp, determined to find a law enforcement officer to assist her best friend.
Carmen gritted her teeth, feeling her fever worsen. She didn’t want help; she didn’t need it. Clenching her fists, she braced herself for the worst, mentally preparing for whatever was happening inside her to take its toll.
Carmen slipped into unconsciousness, thinking she was just drifting into sleep to escape the pain. When she finally woke, the steady beeping of a heart monitor filled her ears, the sterile smell of the hospital unmistakable. Voices, familiar but distant, reached her.
“She’s been living on the streets by choice—no wonder she got sick,” Julia Argent’s voice cut through the fog, sharp with sarcasm.
“Appendicitis can happen to anyone,” Chief chimed in, his usual wit at play. “Well, not me, of course—I’m a robot.”
“She’s in for it now. Lynne’s going to run her through the wringer,” Julia muttered, frustration evident in her tone.
“No, she won’t,” came a gruff voice from the doorway. Suhara entered the room, his dark eyes narrowing at Julia, silently chastising her. He hadn’t worked with Carmen in a while—that role had fallen to Jules recently—but Suhara had been by Carmen’s side longer than anyone else, from the age of 12.
Julia might have thought she knew Carmen, but Suhara carried the weight of years that no one else in the room could match. His presence alone quieted the bickering, a reminder that Carmen had more history with him than anyone realized.
Carmen’s eyes flickered open to find the familiar faces around her. A surge of irritation washed over her as she recognized the tension in the room. “Oh look, a wonderful reunion,” she said, her tone sharp. “Pardon my language, Suhara, but Jules is a self-absorbed bitch who thinks she knows everything about me.”
With a sigh, Suhara moved closer, gently pressing her back into the bed. “Easy there. You just had emergency surgery,” he said, his voice calm but firm, the concern in his eyes unmistakable.
Carmen huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but the dull ache in her abdomen reminded her that she wasn’t in any condition to fight.
Suhara stood firm, his expression resolute as he gestured for Jules to leave. She twitched her nose, her glasses slipping slightly down her face. “So I’m the problem?” she protested, her voice rising. “I have nothing to do with this!”
Before she could say another word, Chief stepped in, his mechanical frame towering as he helped Suhara usher Jules out of the room. The robotic detective practically pushed her through the door, his strength leaving no room for resistance.
Carmen leaned back against her pillows, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and exasperation. The door clicked shut, and the two men returned to her side, leaving her to ponder the fallout of the confrontation until visitation time was officially over.
“We’ll see you first thing in the morning,” Suhara promised, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. Chief followed suit, mimicking the gesture, which made Carmen chuckle.
“Bye, boys,” she teased, a playful grin spreading across her face.
When morning arrived, Suhara and Chief returned, but the mood shifted as they entered the room. Both men froze, their eyes locked on the stark message scrawled in bold red dry-erase marker on the board across from her bed: “I’m never coming home. Love, Carmen.”
The words hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of her fierce independence and the choices she had made
((I’m actually leaving the site permanently))
