To whomever is reading this:
My name is Sly Cooper. This is my diary of innermost thoughts and feelings. I promise to guard this book with my life to keep it from ever being seen by the eyes of others. If you're reading this, I've lost, abandoned, or even just quit writing this book. I've always thought diaries were for little girls with problems or something. I decided to try it. I never really had anyone to just sit down and talk to about the way I feel about, well, everything. I have a lot to say hidden underneath my quick wit, I just never say it. Anyway, I'm a thief. No just a thief, a master thief from a family of thieves. Unfortunately, it's dwindled down to just me. My father's gone. It seems like such a long time since he died, but I'll never let go. A gang called the "Fiendish Five" murdered him. Along with his life, they also took my family's book of all our thieving techniques, tore out all the pages and fled. Cowards. They say boys don't cry unless they're wussies. I cried a lot. And I'm no wussy. I'm stealin' the book back. I've decided to quit living in fear. I always told my pals, Bentley and Murray, that I was going to do it one day. The truth is, I've always been scared. Very scared. They ganged up and killed my father. That's gonna land me in therapy in a few years, but still, it really freaked me out. Those guys are a team. A well-organized team. Don't get me wrong, my buddies know what they're doing, but they're not experienced like that. Sure, we did like four robberies. That is nothing compared to what thieves like the Fiendish Five can do. So here I sit, atop a roof a few blocks away from the Police Station, ready to get the case file on the gang. I'm waiting to receive the signal to head out on my headset. It's really tense, the whole city is silent, for the city of lights, and it sure is dark. I remember when I was scared of the dark. It wasn't fun. All the kids at the orphanage made fun of me for that. And for crying. I was basically "the guy with no friends that everyone avoids" until I met Bentley and Murray. They also had no friends, met by accident, almost. One day, while we were learning math, Murray was messin' around, sticking pencils in his nose, and Bentley and me were the only ones who cracked up. We all took the blame and had to stand in "the corner" for ten minutes. We were all in the same room, not a wise choice. Through the whole thing we were messing around and making jokes. Next thing you know, we see each other around more, talk to each other more, then we're the best of friends, we get to know each other, they told me where they came from, and I told them where I came from. To them, thieves were the coolest things imaginable. They still are. I just heard the signal. I need to leave. I guess I'll write back later. I guess.
Unbelievable. Truly mind-blowing. A clean, perfect getaway. I got the file, ran down the fire escape, went through the parking lot, and leaped into the back of the van. Of course, Inspector Carmelita Fox was right there chasing me the whole time. She really is lovely. And such a nice personality. I 'outta ask her out one day. I'd like to see the look on her face when I do. It'll be priceless. Well, the file has info on all the members. All of them. And their possible whereabouts. Ms. Ruby, Panda King, Raleigh, Muggshot, and even Clockwerk. We're going to work our way up, according to Bentley, take them out one-by-one. It sounds like a pretty good plan. I'm sitting here on my bed writing this. It's 7:00AM and the boys are sawing logs. I waited for about an hour to make sure they wouldn't catch me writing. I really would like to keep this book a secret. It feels wrong to keep secrets from my best friends, but this is personal. VERY personal. I've only written one other entry besides this one and I'm already getting defensive. It still feels good to write it all down. It's like taking to someone, only with the ability to throw it all away and never fear the consequences of it telling someone. When I've filled up all these pages, this thing's going bye-bye. It might take quite a while for that to happen. I might as well get some sleep. As soon as that clock hits 9, we're heading out to track down Raleigh, I know nothing about any of them, and I gotta read that file again. Better go to bed.
I can't sleep. I just can't. This is 15 minutes after I wrote that last entry. I just feel so small compared to the whole world. One second, I took off with a rare gem, feeling pleased with myself, the next, like I'm going to get squashed like the little bug that I am. That gang has all the information that I need to beat them. So I have to use what I already know, which is N-O-T-H-I-N-G. The part of me that thinks says to back down, but the part of me that does says to grab life by it's leash and hang on for dear life because it'll take you wherever it feels. Then there's this third part of me. It's strong, brave, a smooth talker, and pretty much everyone thinks I am. I mean, I am this person, but it just seems so hollow when I'm like that. I mean it, but I don't. I say these things knowing that I have the ability, but I feel like the whole world can just gang up on me and destroy me. Just like the Fiendish Five did to my father. I feel a bit better for writing this down. I guess I'll take some sleeping pills. Bentley and Murray can wake me when it's time to leave. I'll be a bit groggy at first, but with my friends at my side, their plans can't fail, and we will get the book back.