I have Sly 3! It's fun! And what happened to LeFwee?
Chapter 1: The Prologue
The world is full of thieves and crooks. Most of which use their wits for a diabolical purpose, but for others, a good purpose.
Not too long ago, I, Bentley, was fatally injured in an accident to save the world. We, as in Sly, Murray and I, stopped a tiger named Neyla from becoming the new Clockwerk and reeking havoc. Murray blamed himself for my injury, which I don't, and has left the Cooper gang for good. But now, how did Sly and I get separated? We were planning on going to France to steal the Mona Lisa, but my high-tech wheelchair kept me from getting through the security gate at the airport. So Sly went on without me, to steal a famous painting, while I stayed in Bollywood to look around. But if I had stayed a few more minutes, I would have seen, and possibly saved, Sly Cooper, finally being caught by Inspector Carmelita Fox. His trial was the following Thursday, and I got to defend him, but Carmelita's case probably won the jury over (escaping thousands of times could have too). The trial was probably the last time I saw Murray, since he had snuck in to the back row. I was able to talk to him, and I saw he was in tears. He took Sly's capture and death sentence really hard, but he agreed to take back his binocucom so he could talk to me if he wanted to. To brighten my day just a bit, I went to an unpopular museum in Bollywood that I like to visit, since many paintings there test my skills at art decryption…
After a meal of macaroni and cheese, a salad, and terrible manicotti (which since it included tomato Bentley's allergic to tomato was thrown away instantly) Bentley the turtle decided to revisit his favorite painting in the Bollywood museum: the "Cloudy Night" by Arnold Rinokatin. It was Bentley's favorite because apparently Arnold couldn't remember a lot of combinations, so his painting was full of them, including his phone number (which was labeled)! Finally, Bentley got to the art hallways of the 3rd floor, and finally, the Cloudy Night. But none of the numbers were there. Bentley sat there, puzzled by the new painting. But fortunately, the answer fell out of the east wing door. It was a rat, not that tall with ragged clothes. He was holding something underneath a small curtain that was about the same shape as-a painting! Full of suspicion, Bentley quietly follows the rat through the museum, curious as to what his purpose was.
Hmm… I'm apparently bad at beginnings. Anyway, the reat of the story should be good.