Bentley's trip through the Jungle

By Olirulz111

This is my take on what happens to Bentley as he makes his was out of the jungle after Sly and Murray are double-crossed and captured in India. It is the part that undoubtedly changes him, I think the game doesn't not do due justice to how important this part is in terms of Bentley's development in shedding this self conscious and shy personality into the one he has now.

"It does take a great kind of a man to crack the jungle." – Ben. Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller

Rajan's Spice factory, India. 11:24pm 4th March 2004.

(From the perspective of Bentley)

Just keep running. The safehouse is not far away I tell myself. I run as fast as I can to collect my gear, the laptop, and these devices. I need them all! They are still searching for me, their flashlights keep on searching but somehow I stay away. Oh, how scared I still am. I can't take all of my things with me, but I must! No I can't the density of the dirt in the jungle will result in too much lost energy if I take everything. What can I ditch? Nothing. No, stop. Yes, you can do it. But they need to survive! No I must do this.

Eventually after much self-conflict I take my laptop, a GPS indicator, the Binocucom and a machete. The rest, that's now in tiny little pieces along with the safehouse. All the bombs I couldn't carry have now exploded the remains of what used to be my arsenal, my technology. I can't bare to think what all of those pieces of tech are like now or where they are now. Every passing step is what I think about now, the soft jungle dirt sinking under each step I take. I try to follow the path that we made earlier on our exit but it seems to have grown back as if our presence made no impression on the dense jungle. The van is 5 kilometers away. This should take me about 2 hours if I can keep up this pace. But I very much doubt can stay it this very slow pace which I force myself to go.

Each swing of the machete tires my arm. My back strains under the weight of my gear, even the things I have with me are still too heavy but that's the least I could live with in terms of technology. The sharp blade makes easy work of the fronds and grasses that block the semi cleared pathway that we took. Time seemed to pass like honey sliding down a spoon. It was the same feeling under my feet, the heavy, honey like mud just encases my feet under the incredibly humid conditions. The rain is heard on the canopy above, but it is not cold. It is still 27.5C as indicated on the binocucom, even at this late hour.

This jungle seems to keep on closing in, like I'm being stuffed in some trashcan back at school. The darkness is just that, dark. The Only illumination is just the moonlight from above that only sneaks into the floor when the rustle of the wind pushes the branches just so that I can get a slight peak at the night sky. I can't see any constellations tonight. All I see tonight is a very bleak trek ahead.

What is this? I've only been walking for 5 minutes now and it seems I've gone around the earth twice. Time is such a cruel mistress. 2,757,789,531,000 periods of radiation from cesium 133 I think is the exact measurement. I foolishly turn back to judge my progress and only then I realise what the jungle is like. The visibility is so low. Only the machete I flail in my hand at any piece of vegetation that blocks my path allows me to inch forward that little bit more. Sly made it look easy with all this chopping on the way in, just replace his cane with a machete and that what it was like, a complete blur that I will never be able to replicate. I wish I could though; it would make my life so much easier.

What is bugging me right now is that I hold the binocucom in one hand for light and the machete in my right. It is time for me to do some engineering, jungle style. These fronds should have the strength to hold my bincoucom like a pair of goggles, it will allow me to see in the dark and I can give my left arm a break. It was getting incredibly numb. Some sap from this grass and some juices from this flower should chemically combine into some sort of glue. I apply some glue to the frond and I squish the makeshift glue as hard as possible to the side. I then hold the binocucom by the frond, it's holding firm so I strap it to my forehead. Bentley, you are a genius.

This makes it much easier now that I can see. But it only means I can see how dense this jungle is. It scares me. I check the GPS indicator; I walk for 10 minutes before I can get a signal through the canopy. I tagged the van earlier so know where it is. Luckily it isn't stolen, that would be even worse news for me. I can't bear to walk all the way back into the nearest airport. It would be easier just to let go and let the jungle take me away. But how could I let them think that I was dead. Now that they were stuck in prison, I was their only hope. They may not be as smart or clever as I am. But even after only 15 minutes in the jungle I already miss them.

Shh, quiet Bentley. I hear something in front of me. The rustling in the bushes is coming from the right side, I need to hide. I rush into the bushes to peak into the jungle and hear sound of Sly, Murray and Carmelita shackled and bound in chains by the neck and ankles like a chain gang. I dare not speak or make any sounds no matter how much I wanted to get my friends back. It would only end up with my capture. This was a marathon, not a sprint. Technically it's not a marathon, the 4.5 kilometers I have left to go are much less compared to the 42 kilometers that Greek soldiers marched to defend a Persian invasion. But, to me, this feels like a marathon. I had to leave Sly and Murray behind. If they saw me they would give my position away.

I retreat into the jungle again. I thought I would be able to cope without my friends despite our closeness but the jungle is no companion. It is just an enemy that is unrelenting. So was the rain. It was clear that I would not be able carry on into the night like some fearless adventurer; I am not a fearless adventurer despite my safari hat. I decide to set up a camp behind a waterfall, this mountainous terrain is making my short legs work harder than they ever have. At least behind the waterfall it offers some protection from the elements. There is no rain, just this steady stream of water which tastes like heaven to my dehydrated throat. Just having this clean water is good enough. But I needed some food. That was going to happen in the morning.

The Jungle, India 7:21am 5th March 2004.

A colourful parrot is sitting by the water's edge, drinking its fill for the night. I stand still with a sharpened stick in hand. I am ready to do this. Birds like this have only two states of mind. There is, everything is fine and there is, let's fly away now. I throw the spear and it knocks out the bird from it's impact into it's skull. A kill. I never thought I could do something like that at all. I felt alive, I felt ready to tackle this beast. The rain had finally stopped so I decorated myself in its colourful feathers and kept advancing to the van. I was going to save my friends, nothing will stop me now. Not this jungle, not Neyla, not the Contessa, no one shall stand in my way!

I still had 3.5 kilometers to go according to the GPS indicator, as well as a 500-meter descent over that distance. I never really noticed the gradient that much before since I wasn't doing all the hard work. Everyone has their strengths; clearing forest is not my strength. I built a small fire by using the electricity from the laptop to create a spark to light the fire. I just had to cook the parrot; I didn't want to get any disease so I made sure it was cooked until it was black on all sides. It was very crunchy but not flavorsome. Parrots are just like that. I set off for a morning of trekking to the van, I felt ready for the day that approached me. They say that you can get lost in the jungle, but I lost something that I clung to like a scallop to a pier, like a flea to a dog, like a carbon to two oxygens. Finally I had shed my introverted personality.

The light from the canopy filtered down through the leaves and landed in weird patterns on the ground. I could only try to make out what sort of patterns that there were. Bu they were a distraction from the task at hand. The longer it took me to get to the van the longer they would be subjected to their minds. Murray would be very easy to get into but I sense that Sly wouldn't accept the treatment that she gives, he is too rebellious and strong-minded to be broken easily. Given how driven he is to destroy Clockwerk, it would take a lot more than time, hypnosis and entrapment.

Each step now in the ground feels like progress unlike that dark and wet night before me. It feels like I'm actually accomplishing something, it feels great. It gives me hope to keep going on into more of the jungle and the energy to cut through its entangled foliage with the knowledge that in time, I will save my gang. I get another glimpse of them through the bushes; they must be following a normal track because none of the guard carry any sort of machete to cut through the foliage. Seeing them again doesn't bring me a grim reality check of the situation at hand. It only makes me more motivated and resolved to break them out. From what I see through the binocucom, they don't look that fazed by it. Were they really that confident that I would save them? All I could see is Murray's neck bulging against the steel chain around his neck, constricting his breathing. All the while, Neyla was cracking the whip both literally and figuratively. I couldn't make out the conversations that they were having but from her body language, it seems that she is just taunting them. She is a piece of work.

I sneak back into the jungle after the last of the guards goes around the corner, allowing me to looks at the gang for the last time in days. I know that I can't drive the van; it was always Murray's job. Sly could do so as well, but no one could pry Murray away from that steering wheel. For someone who knows everything about the inner workings of most machines on earth, I can't operate a manual gearbox. Murray kept on harping on about that having a manual is simple. What's simple about controlling your arms and feet in quick movements like a dance on the pedals? That was still 1 kilometer away according to the GPS. But It seemed like it took no time at all. I wasn't focused on every step or every branch that needed to be cut to make a clear passage. I was focused on making a plan for Sly and Murray's rescue. The swings of the machete became reflexive, almost like me hacking into any mainframe.

But once I cleared the jungle and was only 50 metres away from the blue edges of the van, I didn't stop to take a breath. Every passing second that I wait makes it more painful for Sly and Murray. So I hack into the van using the computer to unlock the doors, Murray has the keys on him. I gently place my good on the passenger seat and start to get to grips with the system of driving. I know what all the pedals and dials do so that's not the problem. The problem is the changing of the gears, removing the clutch, selecting a new gear and replacing the clutch in a smooth fashion is something I can't translate from an image in my mind into action in my body.

"Okay, ignition on, handbrake off, footbrake on." I tell myself, going over the process I see Murray do so easily.

"Press down on clutch, gear in first, foot on the accelerator, find the friction point, aaaaaaaaand. I've stalled." Luckily no one is around to see me fail.

"Okay, try again, they are depending on you to start this van."

"Clutch, gears, friction point." The sound of grinding gears makes for a horrid disturbance to the jungle.

"Clutch, gears, friction point!" I shout, getting impatient at my lack of progress. Somehow, I don't stall. I slowly put my foot on the accelerator and start to go down the dirt road.

"Yes!" I shout as the slow progress of the van rolling down the hill tells be that I have succeeded.

"Can I get second?" I ask myself. Clutch in, gear to second, clutch out. I'm still moving. Miraculous this is!

"You are on a roll." I cheer myself up as I turn the hard right hairpin; I maintain this slow speed as I descend down the winding and degraded road down the mountain. I don't change gears at all, there is a 65% chance I'll stuff it up again and I'll have to start at square one. The sun is now high enough for me to see it over the horizon of trees. It symbolizes my new self, rising from the darkness to bring hope and salvation to everyone who sees it. Nope, who am I kidding? I'm not going to change the world in some big way. I'm just helping my friends out, that's all. The road opens up into a clear straight and I press down on the accelerator to feel the speed of the van and the vibrations from the suspension compressing and extending with the profile of the road. The sensation of speed is tremendous, even a little scary. The loud engine rumbling tells me change gears if I want to reach even higher speeds. I wrestle with the thought. I'm doing 80km/h on the speedometer and that is plenty for me on these roads. I even slow down in reaction to what speed i was going, I didn't know I was going that fast because I was looking out and over the dashboard for all obstacles in front of me.

This is going to be a long journey; from here to the Czech republic is over 100 hours of straight driving. It was going to be more than a week before I reach Sly and Murray, who knows what the Contessa might do to them? The calculations on my laptop told me I would have to go through Pakistan, Iran, Turkey and into Eastern Europe to get to the Czech Republic.

I am going to save my friends.

Authors Note (August 14 2013): I intended for this to only be one chapter short story but if you like this then maybe after i finish my Sly Cooper 5 Story, i might continue with this one if you guys like it.