Sly Cooper fanfic12
Special Thanks to Jammin Jabala for allowing me access to use his OC: Julius Black...
Set after Dead Men Tell No Tales, and before the Cooper Vault Job(BCVJ). The adventures that were never told...
Sequel to Cache Raid...
Untold Chronicles...
Lockout
After the anchor was dropped, hiding the Gallantry inside the protection of the cove, the selection of the reconnaissance team stood just below deck, as the briefing began. The selection of recon troopers were made up of a few pirates and mercenaries; Ricochet Adams, William Fitzgerald, Frederick Opossum, Ethan Pierce, David Rogers, Henry Jenkins, Jerald Marcus, and Julius Black. In front of the group of volunteers was Bentley, Sly, and Sergeant Wilson.
After the disappointment of Cache Isle, where the news of the treasure stash being incomplete, Black could only resent being beaten by more annoying androids. On the previous isle, he had also developed a more bitter hatred for the particular android, AAI21-Borg. While the taunting curiosity pestered him without end, it forced him to challenge the machine in an chance to learn what secrets he was hiding, unfortunately, the android had defeated him, and left him in even deeper anger than before.
Now that they were here, at Howlers Island, the crocodile's patience had reached its limit, and considering the condition of this graveyard, it would make it easier for Cooper's death to prevail. Although he had agreed with Borg to cease any further mutiny attempts, he was not one to keep deals. The treasure was his, and he was not going to give up on it. As far as he could predict, before the next morning, the Seeker's Scroll would be in his hands.
"Alright everyone," the turtle began, "as you all know, back on Cache Isle, we found a nearly priceless stash of treasure. But with the information that we weren't the first raiders there. So we're tracked the treasure to Howlers Island..."
"...Which we can all agree is a dump," Adams commented, as he tapped fists with Fitz. Everyone laughed.
"Keep laughing, Adams," the Sergeant began, "Just wait until you get out there and have a look for yourself, it'll be a lot worse."
Adams' smile faded, as everyone again laughed.
"He's serious, though," Bentley continued, "Howlers Island has a nuclear plant installation, where a lot of sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxide are released into the atmosphere... creating daily showers of acid rain."
"So?" Rogers asked, sitting with his chair backwards.
"Believe me when I say this," asked the Sergeant, "Acid rain can be very deadly. Back where I come from, we have acid snow occasionally once a month..."
"Exactly where are those Eskimos you call a family calling home?" Adams interrupted again, temporarily changing the subject.
"First off; they're called the Sontarjii, second; my home is around Novaya Zemlya," Wilson answered, getting a confused look in reply. "It's in Russia. Now then, back to the..."
"Hold up! So what you're saying is... you're a Ruskie?" Freddy asked, sitting up.
"Yes! Moving on!" The Sergeant said annoyed, raising his voice.
"Acid rain can be very lethal," Bentley continued, "upon trees, rocks, and even buildings, it could do allot of damage, that's why all you see are mostly dead and dying trees. And combined with what we believe is toxic gas in the air, it makes the area unsuitable for any living thing to survive for even half an hour."
"So how'd you expect us to recon the island if we can't even walk out there?" Fitz asked, a toothpick in his mouth.
"Luckily, we have gas masks capable of converting the polluted air into breathable air," the turtle said, pulling out a gas mask as an example, "so we should be able to go out there without trouble breathing."
"And what happens if we go outside without gas masks on our faces?" Rogers asked.
"Considering there's poisonous gas out there," Wilson began, approaching the pitbull, "obviously it's deadly. If you try to breath in any of it, your throat and insides will grow swollen, you'll begin to feel lightheaded, your eyes will get bloodshot, and you'll be dead before you can summon the strength to call for help. That is... before the acid rain melts your flesh off your bones first."
Rogers' lip quivered, as a shiver ran through him. Everyone else made the same reaction.
"Any questions, Rogers?"
"No sir," the pitbull replied, and said nothing else.
"Good. Then grab a mask, grab a gun, and let's get this show on the road."
After the briefing, the recon troopers strapped on their gas masks as they prepped and loaded the Team Van, on deck of the Gallantry. They each tested their ear links, armed themselves with assault rifles and other weaponry, as Murray strapped himself into the seat of his history recording van.
Aside from them, Sly and Bentley, both wearing face protecting gas masks, stood next to the ramp connecting the ship to the dry ground.
"Alright Sly, according to the schematics, the facility is to the North," Bentley told him, "be careful and watch your back, we don't know what's out there."
The raccoon agreed and started down the ramp, and began prowling through the cove and reaching the end of the cave deadlock. As he stepped out of the cave and into the woods, he shuddered.
The appearance of the woods were even less than desirable up close. What with the dead trees, some were splitting and peeling apart while others gave up and lied on the gray grass, any other remaining tree stood without leaves and with skeleton branches, leaving only its black bark.
Thunder crackled into the air, Sly glanced up to the clouds as they gave the signal of approaching rain. He saw it as a good idea to hurry and get out of the rain, before it, as the Sergeant described, melted his flesh and fur off. As for the dead woods, it was about to look a lot worse.
R&R, please...