I haven't written anything serious in nearly 6 years, so this is an attempt to get back into it. You'll have to excuse any of the mistakes I make, grammatically, and in spelling and whatnot. It's a bit difficult falling into the groove, but hopefully it'll be easier when I write more.
Their adventures were never boring.
Not when they were running away from an intrepid - and not to mention, beautiful - cop. Especially not when they were being captured by enemies more notorious than anything the law could throw at them. Not when they had managed to save Paris, (and possibly even the world) from an abject being known as Clockwerk.
It could be said that Sly Cooper and his gang were heroes.
However, society had something else to say about them.
They were thieves.
Nothing more and nothing less. Even if they stole from those who were corrupt and evil, the law said they were bad and that was the way it was going to stay.
Chapter I: Sly
Sly Cooper, the current leader and last in the long line of thieves crouched at the edge of a rooftop, watching the sun set over Paris. The horizon and buildings below him twinkled with lights, almost dazzling him with their brilliance. He always did love to just simply sit on a rooftop and watch the city glow under his feet.
However, tonight he wasn't here to simply admire the city. He had a job to do. His eyes scanned the ground. Once he was sure there were few, if any people on the streets, he stood grasping his cane tightly.
The cane he carried shone in the setting sun, flashing red for the briefest of moments. The handle was made of polished wood, smooth and sturdy enough to ensure it could last through anything - even hitting thugs over the head. The handle elegantly swung into a hook, gold plated and strong. It was odd for someone of Sly's caliber to carry something that stood out so, let alone something he would take on his thieving expeditions. However, the cane was important to him.
It was a last memento of his father, Connor Cooper, who had died many years ago.
Sly frowned to himself, thinking back to that day. He sorely wished his memory would serve him better on nights when he wanted to remember the happy times he spent with his father. Sly's mother had died when he was young because of illness, leaving only the older Cooper and his son to fend for themselves. At first it had been hard, the young raccoon remembered, if somewhat hazily. But it didn't matter to the two. They were still family, and their bond had been - was - strong. That was one of the few things Sly could remember of his father. Otherwise, most days when he laid his head to rest, he would wake up shaking and biting back a scream of horror at having to witness his father's brutal murder. Sly could still clearly hear his father shouting at him to hide, and the yells of pain Connor gave when claws, and the like tore into his flesh…
The lithe raccoon shook his head, frustrated that he'd let himself get lost in such unhappy memories.
A buzzing in his ear shook any other thoughts from his mind, and he quickly leaned down while placing a hand to his ear. The small headset embedded in his ear beeped into life, with the sound of one of his friend's voices filtering through. "Sly! How's everything going?"
"Fine," he answered, somewhat curtly. A small shake of his head and a sigh, he quickly answered with, "everything's fine, Bentley. You need to stop worrying or you're going to give yourself an aneurism."
Bentley sounded insulted by the quip. "I'm sorry if I'm worried for the safety of my friend."
"Sorry, sorry," Sly apologized quickly. "What does 'The Wizard' have planned for this heist then?"
The raccoon could practically hear the eye roll when Bentley replied. "I've already told you, Sly. You need to get in there, and steal those documents. If we don't get this done tonight, they'll be in Jacan's hand and long gone. We won't have another shot at this, so be careful when you get in there. There's sure to be heavy security."
"Right," Sly quipped, "I'll be back with those documents in a jiffy." He let the little earpiece go, and quickly went to business. Checking to see if the distance was correct, he jumped off the edge and caught his cane on a loose pipe. The sound of metal clinking when the two connected echoed in the alleyway, but Sly ignored it, and quickly caught the cane in his teeth, using his hands to pull himself up.
With swiftness only known to the Cooper clan, Sly was up on the roof of the next building, and running towards a ventilation shaft that would lead inside. Again, he used his cane to pry it open, and jumped in without hesitation.
The shaft dropped for a while, however the raccoon used his arms to steady the fall and carefully pick his way through the maze of ventilation. Once the shaft leveled out, he struggled to pull a map from inside his shirt and checked to see he was going in the right direction. It was a long crawl from the roof to the room he was aiming for, and he soon came to an opening.
Bentley's hacking skills hadn't failed them once again. Sly looked out between the grates in the opening, and took a quick look around to see what they were dealing with.
The room he looked out at was large for an office. A long desk made of what looked like oak stood in front of lavish red curtains, pulled closed against what Sly could only imagine was a window. It was dark, with all the lamps and the impressive chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling turned off for the night. Wood paneled the walls, and very expensive looking vases and ornaments decorated several bookshelves. Bentley would have a field day if he could see how many books this Jacan individual kept. The carpet on the floor looked just as rich as everything else, with what looked like gold thread sewn into several designs, Sly observed. It was obvious this man had expensive tastes.
From his vantage point, Sly could see it wasn't too large of a drop from the ventilation shaft. If he was careful, he could avoid some of the potted plants and expensive looking vases off to the side. He glanced about for a moment before using his cane to break the door off the opening and slip down into the room. He fell fast, but softly, rolling to stem the pressure off his feet. Making sure that his entry hadn't warned anyone, Sly stood and pulled a hand to his ear. "Alright, I'm in Bentley. Where'd you say the safe was?"
Bentley's voice filtered in through the white noise. "Nice job Sly. Alright, the safe should be behind a painting of Jacan and his wife. It should be somewhere there."
"Sure," Sly answered distractedly. He broke the connection, his eyes sweeping the room. His eyes soon fell upon a large painting in an intricate gold frame holding the canvas in place. Jacan, a crime lord acting as a politician, was a large man, the suit he was wearing straining against his broad shoulders and chest. Black hair stood on his head, spiked, and trimmed neatly, his sideburns growing into a scruffy beard around his octagonal face. Sly felt a small shiver go down his spine as he glanced up at the wolverine's silver eyes. They almost seemed to stare straight into his soul; Sly couldn't imagine how the real man's eyes would look. Jacan stood beside his wife, who smiled down at an invisible audience. She was a beautiful rabbit, her white fur almost gleaming in the painting. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into elegant curls, framing her oval face and large brown eyes. The dress she wore left nothing to the imagination, her bosom lifted high and proud, and the material of her red dress, spilling across the chair she sat on.
Sly took a moment to appreciate the painting (and Jacan's beautiful wife) before stepping forward to pull it off.
It proved to be much more difficult than he'd imagined, as the frame weighed the entire painting down. Sly struggled for a moment, but managed to place the painting carefully on the carpeted floor. Just as Bentley had said, a safe stood in the wall, just waiting to be unlocked. He pulled out the same paper that his friend had scrawled a map onto, and quickly read off the numbers while punching them into the electronic keypad. It beeped once he'd entered the correct code and swung open. Inside sat the documents Sly had been vying for, and he quickly grabbed them, and shoved them into the backpack he wore. He would usually abstain from using the old thing, but Bentley had insisted he use it for carrying the documents out.
"You can't risk bending those papers!" Bentley had said. "They're very important and we need them in one piece if we're going to hand them over to Interpol."
Sly smiled and chuckled to himself before looking into the safe to see what else Jacan had hidden in it. Sure enough, there was just one more item in it, and he quickly took it out and observed it. It was an expensive looking silver necklace with a simple pendant on the end incrusted with jewels. This would certainly sell for a lot of Thiefnet. Sly pocketed the necklace as well and pulled out one of his infamous calling cards and placed it carefully in the safe.
Once that was done, he turned his back on it, and contacted his friends outside. "All done in here, guys."
"Good job, Sly! Murray and I will be waiting for you outside," Bentley replied before both of them ended the transmission.
Despite himself, Sly took another quick look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Nothing else stood out to him, so he turned and looked for a way to get back up to the ventilation shaft.
A footstep outside the door.
Another shiver ran through the raccoon's spine, and he crouched down, suddenly tense. He quickly hid behind the desk making sure he couldn't be seen from the position and peeked out to see just who might be coming in.
Silence.
The door suddenly rattled on it's hinges, making the wall shake violently. Voices shouted from behind it, and another crash echoed. It was clear someone was trying to break the door down.
Shit, he swore. "Bentley," he muttered as quietly as he could, "looks like this is going south, fast. Get the van running. I'm going to make a hasty retreat."
"What do you mean?" Bentley cried urgently. "What's going on?"
"Either someone's having a good time out there, or they're trying to break down the door to the room I'm in," Sly said. Despite the slight panic drifting through his head, his voice remained as calm as could be, in order not to panic the turtle anymore.
"Oh no. No, no, no," Bentley stammered. Silence for a moment before static suddenly blasted in Sly's ear and the turtle shouted, "just out of there, now. Climb out a window, do anything you can to get out of there!"
"Right," Sly countered sarcastically, "I hadn't thought of that," before he moved from his position. "Just keep the van going," he added one last time before cutting the connection off. He pulled the curtains aside, confirming his suspicions. A large bay window flooded the room with moonlight, with a rather terrific view of Paris; Sly couldn't help but admire it for a moment.
The door shook for what seemed like the thousandth time, and he looked back to see the door buckling against the pressure and cracking enough to let more light shine in. He quickly looked for a latch to open the doors, but there didn't seem to be any.
He cursed again.
The room shook once more, and the door crashed onto the floor, finally unable to handle the stress. He spun around, temporarily blinded by flashlights.
"Hands up, Ringtail!"
"Do mine ears deceive me?" Sly grinned despite himself. Of course, he should have known she'd be here.
"Stop joking around," Inspector Carmelita Fox shouted. Her shock pistol, her favourite weapon of choice locked onto Sly, her aim steady and determined.
Sly couldn't help the small upturn of his mouth at the sight of her. Carmelita was a beautiful woman, with very shapely hips and - dare he think it - a rather defined chest. The black halter he always saw her wearing didn't leave anything to the imagination, but her short bomber jacket covered a majority of her top half. Long dark curls framed her face and eyes, the sharp color of amber that glared in his direction. "I said hands up!"
He obeyed, and lifted his hands in the air, still clutching his cane. "Carmelita, how surprising to see you here again. How are you tonight?"
"Shut up," she snapped. Carefully, she made her way towards him, still keeping her gun trained on his chest. Behind her, a few other Interpol agents hurried in after her, also keeping their guns on Sly. Although he hadn't done anything to endanger them, it was better safe than sorry. He was a thief after all.
"How'd you find out I was here?" he asked during the silence.
The vixen blinked at the question, and smirked. "For all your 'master thievery' you overlooked the fact the floors are pressure sensitive, connected to a silent alarm."
"Clever," Sly commented. Indeed, he hadn't thought of that possibility. Apparently, Bentley hadn't either. That was something to keep in mind from now on.
Carmelita suddenly tossed handcuffs at him, so they landed right at Sly's feet. "Put those on, and come with us quietly," she demanded firmly. She finally had Sly Cooper in her grasp and there was no way Carmelita was going to let him get away from her again. He was in a difficult situation regardless, with herself, and 3 other Interpol agents backing her up. There was no way Cooper was getting away.
Sly eyed the handcuffs, and turned his head to grin at the female Interpol agent. "And if I don't, my dear?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't even joke, Cooper. If you don't come quietly, I'll be forced to shoot you with this," she gestured to her shock pistol. "If I recall, it's not very pleasant to be hit by it, is it?"
The raccoon grimaced at the memory. He'd only been shot once by the gun, and the pain was still well carved in his mind. He didn't want to be hit by it again. "Of course," he answered. "Who would forget a lovely lady such as yourself, shooting off a big gun like that?"
"Not funny."
Sly shrugged. "It was worth a shot." Then he chuckled. "Get it?"
Carmelita sighed. Her patience had finally waned. "Just put the god damned cuffs on. We'll both walk out of here unscathed, and you'll finally be behind bars. Everyone wins."
"Sorry gorgeous, but the deal doesn't really work for me," he replied with a smirk. His cane clattered to the floor suddenly, setting off a hidden smoke bomb; a recent, and very clever invention of Bentley's.
Smoke billowed across the agents, blinding them and causing a panic.
"Don't shoot!" Carmelita demanded. In the chaos that ensued, Sly dipped down and grabbed his cane and made a wild dash for the window. The sound of Sly's feet runing across the carpet cause the fox to yell, "no, damn it! Cooper!"
Glass shattered upon impact with Sly's body, who had made the sudden, and rather rash, decision to break through the window and hope that he landed safely. Running through a window was nothing like the movies however. Sly had lifted his arms to protect his head from the collision, and was lucky enough for nothing to pierce his head.
However, shards of glass cut swiftly through his arms, ripping apart and embedding itself in his flesh. He winced at the pain, but ignored it to hook his cane on anything to slow his descent. However, in his haste, he failed to note that it was a sheer drop from the room to the ground.
Carmelita ran to the now shattered window, and watched in horror as Cooper fell with what looked like no immediate means of slowing his fall. "Come on!" she shouted while turning from the window. She couldn't help the fear that fueled her into action at the thought that Sly could possible die from the fall.
When it was apparent that he had absolutely no means to slow his descent from the third floor, Sly cursed his bad luck. Even as the wind rushed wildly past his ears, a sudden flood of memories rushed into his mind.
Memories of when Sly first met Murray at the orphanage… When Bentley first arrived. When they first became friends… When they successfully pulled off their first heist… When the gang had first come to Paris… When they brought down their first criminal… When they had finally acknowledged each other as brothers…
Sly closed his eyes to stem the flow, but everything kept flashing before his eyes. So it's true, his mind echoed, your memories do flash before your eyes before you die. Opening his eyes one last time, he suddenly felt defiant. He couldn't let it end like this. He couldn't leave his friends to mourn over his body.
Sly wouldn't allow himself to become a memory.
He twisted one last time in desperation to try and find something soft to fall onto, but once he did, agony like he had never experienced before exploded through his very being. Something hit his head with such force, it left him blinded. As he lay on whatever it was he had landed on, he thought bitterly to himself, it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Then everything went silent.
Bentley and Murray sat anxiously in the getaway van, awaiting any new information from Sly. The device in Bentley's ear remained silent however, and he sighed, drumming his fingers against the dashboard of the van. It was a useless endeavor, however, the turtle felt like he needed to do something to make himself feel calmer.
Murray was so nervous he couldn't even eat the snack he'd brought along (and that was saying something). The pink hippo leaned out of the window and squinted up at the night sky. "Are you sure Sly is okay?" he asked the turtle.
"He should be, yes," Bentley answered. He attempted to mask the slight tremble in his voice, but it came out anyway. Despite the fact this sort of thing happened a lot, it never helped the nerves Bentley got. What if their luck ran out? What if Sly was caught? So many 'if's' ran through his mind, that he soon grew tired of thinking up scenarios.
He only needed to trust that his friend would get out of the mess created.
"Let's…" Bentley paused for a moment, thinking. "Let's just keep waiting, alright Murray? I'm sure Sly will be back before you know it, grinning like a fool."
"R-right," Murray answered uncertainly.
Silence drifted over the two as they waited once more. Their anxiousness seemed to drift over them like bats, unable to leave them alone. Bentley sorely wished for a sign - anything, really - that would let him know Sly was on his way.
Almost as if on cue, the sound of glass shattering echoed from above their position. Both of them jumped, wondering what it could be. But before either could react, something crashed onto the roof of their van, shaking it to it's very core. Glass shards soon followed, sprinkling themselves across the hood and ground like snow.
"What was that?" Murray asked in a small voice. The two remained where they were, both afraid to make the first move to check what it was.
"I'll go and…" Bentley paused, a sudden thought striking him suddenly. He sighed. "Perhaps you should go and check it out, Murray."
The hippo turned to his disabled friend, his face stricken with what Bentley could only describe as fear. "Are you sure we should be checking it out? Maybe we should just drive off and-"
"No, Murray," his shorter friend interrupted. "What if someone fell from…" His nasally voice trailed off. He didn't even want to think of who it could be.
Murray felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn't want to go out there to check what it is. He'd always prided himself on his strength, however Murray was still a coward when it came to the unknown. Perhaps it was something that stemmed from his childhood. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and slowly extricated himself from the van.
The alleyway was silent in the night, and dark. They had specifically chosen this spot in order to keep out of sight from any cops or the like for their escape. It had surely done the job as nothing stirred except for the a few mice scurrying around for food. Garbage and newspapers drifted past Murray's feet in clumps.
Making sure to avoid the shards of glass, Murray stepped from the van's door and looked around again; he wanted to be sure no one was around. Once that was confirmed, he squinted up at the roof of their van. The entire roof was dented and he if he looked closely enough something that looked like dark liquid was running off the edges…
"Murray," Bentley's voice rang out suddenly. "Is that… blood?"
The hippo had only just realized what it was, and fear coursed through his body. Please don't let it be…
He quickly hurried over to the ladder leading up to the roof of his precious van, and climbed like he had never climbed before. What he saw shocked him so bad, he nearly let go on the ladder and fell to the ground.
Dark, vicious liquid leaked out from under a body.
Sly's body.
The raccoon's body lay on the van, silent save for the ragged breath escaping Sly's lungs. One of his arms looked to be broken, laying haphazardly at the edge of the van's roof. His once bright blue clothing, a trademark of his thievery, stained dark and red from all the blood.
Murray suppressed a cry of fear, and leapt forward to his friend. He tried his best to avoid the blood pooling around his friend's broken body, and reached to try and grab him. However he paused, suddenly fearful if he tried to move Sly it would cause more damage than good. No, no, Murray's thoughts raced. "Bentley!" he cried out into the night. He didn't care if his voice carried out into the streets for everyone to hear. "Get some blankets ready! I'm coming down now, and we're out of here!" He sounded much more in control than he felt.
Carefully, he gathered Sly in his arms, and leapt down from the roof with a wince. Sly's body remained motionless however as he raced to the back of the van just as Bentley opened it for him.
The turtle's jaw dropped at the sight, and quickly moved away to let Murray place the raccoon's body on a cot they kept in the back of the van. It was usually used for emergencies and this certainly qualified as one. Bentley immediately went to work, and quickly noted where the blood was coming from. A gash across the back of Sly's head bled profusely, the fur matted and darkened. Bentley pulled one of the blankets aside, and pressed it against the wound, hoping the pressure would stem the flow of blood.
"Sly, don't you dare die on us, you hear me?" Bentley demanded uselessly at his friend's lifeless form. "You're stronger than this!"
The van rocked suddenly as Murray jumped into the driver's seat, and slammed the door. Luckily he'd had the van going, and they soon peeled from the scene, leaving only glass and tire tracks in their wake.
Only one thought echoed through both of their minds.
Please don't let our brother die tonight.
Blah. That's all I really have to say. I'll continue this hopefully.