Chapter 2

It all started when I was a little kid, maybe around the age of five, just old enough to be aware of the events happening around me, bouncing and listening to stories on my father's knee. I was raised on the stories and exploits of my ancestors, acts of valor and daring heists worth millions. Nowadays I don't think I could even recall three stories about my ancestors.

My dad was a thief like his father before him and his father's father before him and the rest of the Cooper clan. He was the best of his time, stealing gems, legendary pieces of art, and robbing banks on a near day to day basis. He, like my ancestors before him, all inherited the same family heirloom, the Thievious Raccoonus.

The Thievious Raccoonus is a collection of my family's greatest thief maneuvers, well, was. Anyone who read its pages learned the ways of being exceptionally sneaky, which is why we specialize in stealing from criminals, getting past their security, stealing their priceless stolen loot, and letting them take the fall with the police.

It all started one quiet night when I was supposed to inherit the book. Five strangers showed up unannounced at our door. My parents had ushered me into the closet while they tried to fight them off. To my dismay, in such close quarters and outnumbered, they were eventually overpowered and killed in front of my eyes while I watched helplessly from the closet. I had to stand there trembling as the five strangers ransacked the house until they ripped a painting off the wall to reveal a safe. Through brute force they ripped open the safe to reveal my family's prized possession, The Thievious Raccoonus.

I had dropped to my knees, tears in my eyes, as the five strangers I later identified as the fiendish five took the book, opened it, and ripped it into five pieces, each disappearing to the corners of the earth to commit masterful crimes. I just stayed there for what seemed like hours until the police arrived. All they could officially say was that my father, a world wanted thief, was murdered, and a child without a family or home was found in the house. As the son of a thief, I wasn't exactly on the grid. I wasn't born in a hospital. I had no official family, no birth record, nowhere to go. So that's also the night I got dumped in the local orphanage, the Happy Camper orphanage ran by a woman, a mean one I might add, named Ms. Puffin.

For the first couple of weeks I was a wreck. I barely ate, slept, or talked. I just existed in a daze of misery and shock. By the time I came out of my little world of pain I was really alone. Everybody thought I was the weird little kid that lost his home. Well, everyone except for two people. The only good things about Happy Camper were my two best friends Bentley and Murray.

Bentley was a genius from birth, spouting off plans and schematics like most kids recite their alphabet, like it was no big deal. He was, and still is, extremely paranoid but when things get hairy he sticks by his friends. Now he double's as our team's strategist and demolition expert. I can't even count how many times his quick thinking has saved us from disaster.

Murray was our little enforcer at the orphanage. Murray was one of the nicest guys you'd ever meet, and the hungriest, but if you made him mad he'd make your head roll. Murray isn't exactly the smartest guy in the world to say the least but he'll stand by his friends against any odds. He's also the driver for the team getaway van. I'm not sure if he's truly fearless or he just doesn't have the sense to be afraid, but his sometime maniac driving has definitely saved us from getting caught on more than one occasion.

The three of us were like family, like brothers. As kids we bonded over stealing cookies from Ms. Puffin. Bentley would make the plan, I'd steal the cookies, and Murray would pull the getaway wagon. We slowly worked our way up to bigger heists. It started with the cookies, then it progressed into change left on tables and counters, then wallets, then watches. It was when Murray had learned to drive and we had enough stolen money saved up to make our getaway van that I suggested we run away and never look back. They didn't hesitate a second, just like that, we were a gang on our own, but more importantly, we were a family.

We made score after score. We stole from world renowned criminals and I always left my little calling card, a paper cutout of our logo, the blue raccoon mask. Cash, gems, art, antiques, you name it, and we've stolen it. But even with all of this great turn of events in a very dark time, I couldn't get rid of the hatred I had for those five strangers, their faces completely faded from memory at this point, I couldn't get rid of the feeling of helplessness I felt while watching my parents die, and most of all, I couldn't get rid of the sadness. The guys could always tell when I was down and they started talking to me during dinner one night.

"Sly", started Bentley, putting down his fork by his pasta, "We know you're not okay". Bentley was never the best at bringing a topic up gently.

"Guys, don't worry about me, I'm really fine", I lied as I tried to fake a smile.

"Sly don't do that, we're not just a gang, we're friends", Bentley continued, "We have to help each other when we need it, because if we don't, nobody will".

"That's right", Murray added in, "We're all part of something awesome, like the parts of a banana split!".

I had to start laughing at that, my friends always made me feel better, "Okay guys I'll tell you", I conceded and started to spill my guts, "I've been thinking a lot about my father and the group that killed him. I can't let it go, I need to get a little revenge and get my family's book back", I could barely look them in the eyes, "but I know I can't do it on my own and it's not fair to ask you to fight my battles and my demons". There was a long moment of silence, other than Murray slurping up his pasta noodles.

"Sly", Bentley began slowly, "you really are thick headed sometimes", I looked at him confused, "I'll say it again, we're your friends, your fights are our fights, your demons are our demons, and vice versa".

"That's right Sly", Murray said, putting down his fork, a rare occurrence to say the very least, "We'll fight by your side until we either win or can't fight anymore". I sat there and looked at my friends with a huge smile on my face.

"Thanks guys, but I don't even know where to start looking for any of them", I admitted.

"Not to worry", piped up Bentley, "I took the liberty of cross referencing the internet with the police database to find some credible leads, and I do believe I've found a lead", he paused for a second and smiled, "We're not letting you face this alone, old friend". Murray slurped his approval by smiling while he scarfed down his pasta.

"You guys are amazing", I finished. That's what brought us to the Paris police station, and that's what is bringing us to England.

I realize this chapter was slow, next chapter will be more exciting i believe. We shall see a heist while Sly studies up on his first target.