A Cooper's Tale Chapter 9
Sunset Snake-Eyes Part Three
Ace of the CounterActs
The Cooper Cane clattered to the floor with a soft cling.
Bentley felt his heart skip a beat, but he knew the drill. The sound triggered a hidden function in his brain; to escape. Quickly, he unplugged the microphone from the audio jack and the frequency went dead. In a few frantic keystrokes, the computer withdrew from Muggshot's security mainframe without leaving a trace. He shut down everything; the computer, the monitor, and the rest of the radio equipment. The radio communication between him and Murray was cut off as well. Bentley threw off him headset and stood out of his swivel chair so quickly that it was pushed back into the sideboard behind it. The bottles and plates quivered a little.
He had to list his priorities; collect his thoughts. He ran to the backdoor and called for Murray, then spun back to the dead computer at his desk. First priority: Pack up and get the heck out of there! In a hurry, he snatched up his duffle bag and lifted the monitor from the desk, placing it in the bag carefully before stuffing everything else in with it. His papers and gadgets lay scattered across the wooden counter. He didn't have time to organize them. Murray came in.
"Something the matter…?"
Bentley looked up at him; his glasses slightly drooped to one side of his nose. "Sly's been caught." He fixed his glasses and shoved the gadgets into the bag. "They probably know where we are already."
Murray sprung to action almost immediately, a new grim look etched on his face. He gripped the duffle bag once Bentley was done with it and heaved it up onto his right shoulder, the swivel chair up on his left. "I'll get the van started." He left quicker than when he came in. Bentley's voice stopped him in the doorway.
"Wait! We need to get—"he thought better of it. "Never mind! Let's get out of here!"
"I'll come back and get the food in the—"
"Don't worry about that! We can buy more food elsewhere. Just start the van and we'll disappear."
Murray nodded and rushed outside. The wind had picked up during the last few hours. The heat from the sun had died as night approached and the red earth was warm. Dust blew across Murray's legs as he ran to the van that he parked along the far wall. He opened the door on the driver's side and threw the bag and chair into the back. He looked out and noticed the gleaming neon penthouse that towered over the rest of the broken city. The hippo grimaced. Sly was in there. What were they doing to her?
He pulled the van around to the back and Bentley came running out with the rest of their equipment. The turtle dove into the back and shut the door. Dust churned up from the tires when Murray pressed down on the gas pedal and the van roared out of the parking lot.
Soon, they were far away from the abandoned hotel and heading down into Mesa City. The road narrowed as the clusters of buildings came closer and closer. Murray was forced to drive slower to avoid slipping at sharp turns. The engine whined at the sudden change of speed. "Easy girl, easy…!"
Meanwhile, Bentley secured the chair in its usual locks in the floor and set the bags under the couch. He gripped the passenger's seat in front of him to keep from toppling over at each turn. "We've got to find a place to hide until we come up with a plan." He said from over Murray's shoulder.
Then, two monstrous black Fords raced around the corner ahead of them. The passenger window on the first Ford lowered and a German Sheppard opened fire on the van. Instinctively, Murray and Bentley ducked, but the bullets didn't penetrate the van's durable windshield.
"She won't be able to take this for very long!" cried Murray, veering to the left. The bullets stopped hailing on them, but the Fords pursued behind them.
Bentley leapt back to the couch and pulled out two metallic balls from one of the bags. He scrambled into the passenger's seat and rolled down the window just enough to reach his hand through. "Take the next turn!" he shouted to Murray over the engine's roar.
The gunman showed himself again and Bentley threw one ball out toward them. The ball hit the ground ahead of the Ford and exploded on contact, releasing a dense plume of smoke. The gunman fired blindly and the turtle ducked back into the van. Bullets riddled the passenger side mirror.
Bentley sucked in air through his teeth and came back out of his shell, sitting back heavily. "Turn here…"
Murray yanked the steering wheel to the right, barely missing the yellow PED XING sign at the intersection. The rusted sign ripped the damaged side mirror off the van with a loud clank. Bentley looked behind them and saw one Ford miss the turn, but the other caught sight of them and sped to catch up with the Cooper van.
"Don't worry!" Murray rasped. "I'll lose 'em!"
The Ford opened fore again. The two cringed and shielded themselves when a few broke through the back hull. One hit the back of Murray's thick seat and fell to the floor. At the next turn, Murray found that were was a little more elbow room on the road. He swerved side to side as bullets blew past their windows.
"They're really trying to kill us!" Bentley breathed and clutched the edge of his seat. His other hand gripped the remaining smoke ball tightly as he prepared for another go. "Turn another corner as soon as possible! This'll shake them loose!"
"I see one ahead!" was his reply. His muscles were stiff at the wheel.
Just as the next intersection was coming up, the second Ford they thought they lost pulled around the corner ahead. Murray gasped and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. Dust rose up around the van. They heard the Ford behind them speed up. Murray and Bentley both looked back, eyes wide. The chasers intended to slug them in from behind.
As swift as lightning, Murray turned back and pulled the gear into reverse. He floored the gas pedal and wrenched the steering wheel to the left as hard as possible. The tires spun furiously and the van jerked back at an angle to the left, moving it out of the way in the nick of time. The charging Ford whipped past the Cooper van and slammed into the blockade at the corner with a grand crash.
The two didn't waste any time to watch. Murray forced the gear back into drive and raged away down the path they came from.
Shakily, Bentley sank deep into his seat, nearly passing out from all of the excitement as he scratched his head. "Th-That was close…" He looked up at Murray.
The hippo was grinning from ear to ear as he turned on some fitting congratulatory music.
You've been hit by – You've been struck by – a Smooth Criminal~!
Bentley sighed and talked over the music. "I'll get to work on figuring a way into that penthouse. With Muggshot's guards on the lookout for us now, it's gonna be tough. But I'm sure we can get in directly from the outside somehow…"
He peered out the window toward the tall structure of Muggshot's empire. The while building looked ridiculous with all of its neon lights and massive fire-hydrant shaped penthouse on top. The structure, despite its looks, seemed impenetrable. A single window sat snug in the center of the top part. Close to the bottom of the penthouse was a tall arch where a thin bridge stretched from one part of the hydrant to the other. The gears in Bentley's brain began their usual churn. If they could somehow get the van to that point, they might just make it up to Muggshot.
But all of that would be pointless without Sly helping them. Where was she now…?
Another bullet burst through the back door. The van swerved as Murray and Bentley ducked. Murray looked back in the rearview mirror. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
An entirely new black Ford veered around the corner and raced after them.
"At this rate, we'll never get to Sly!" said Bentley, swaying with the van.
"W-Wait! Look!"
Bentley looked. The Ford's front tire had been blown out and the vehicle was skidding. A loud rifle-like sound echoed through the air and the second front tire hissed. The car squealed and spun madly out of control, and soon out of sight.
"Wonder what went wrong…" Murray mused, scratching his head.
"Murray! Watch out!"
Murray looked back at the road and stomped on the brakes, but the van spun right into an abandoned hotdog stand, vacant of all but rotten food. The stand broke apart on impact and crumpled around the van in splinters. The Cooper van was stopped.
Coughing and waving the dust away, Murray and Bentley groaned and grumbled. Murray unfastened his seatbelt and kicked the car door open, scattering clusters of the stand. "Hyah!"
Bentley slunk out from the other side.
Soon, both snapped to attention and looked around quickly. The pursuing Ford had crashed into a building side a block or two away, the engine dead. The driver was unconscious and the gunman fled. What had happened?
"Think of it as a warm welcoming gift." A voice hollered from above them.
The two spotted a man seated atop a wilted lamp post. The stranger sneered at their dumbfounded expressions. "Sup." He added after a pause. "Looks like y'all got on Muggshot's hit list, eh?" he snickered.
Bentley and Murray just stared, utterly confused.
"Well," the stranger concluded. "We outta haul ass an' git outta here, else the rest'a Mugg's goons gone catch up with us, won't they?" He cocked his head briefly over his shoulder, resting his rifle across his right arm. "Follow me f'you wanna hold onto yer skin. And shut those mouths already!" he turned his back to them. "We got enough idiots 'round here already."
Murray, with the help of a few members of the CounterActs, managed to wheel the battered Cooper van into a cleverly hidden garage along a high density road half a mile from the penthouse. The area was fairly large and held several other cars and trucks. Murray recognized most of them as cars he raced with that afternoon. So the Tire Chasers were here as well.
Behind the parked vehicles were rows of tables, where members of both gangs were talking amongst themselves, playing games, or napping. A lot of them had a bored, tiresome look in their eyes. They were itching for some action, and when Bentley and Murray sauntered into their territory, most looked up in interest. A four-eyed, half-pint nerd and some buck-toothed, pink deadweight coming to a place like this?
"They sure got some guts, comin' heres." Bentley heard one say as they weaved through the tables. Inside, he pitied the individual for his terrible need of good grammar.
As they passed by, a few heavily built ones jostled Murray, laughing as they watched him jerk away from their prodding. They didn't bother with Bentley, most couldn't even see him; he was so short.
The one that saved the two from before now rescued them from the jeering swarm. "Knock it off! Lay off 'em already!" he hollered over the commotion and shoved some out of the way, obviously annoyed.
He led them to a dull storage room that had been turned into an office recently. The room was lighted by a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. At the very far wall from the door sat a gray desk and thick swivel chair. Two chairs were brought out and Bentley sat reluctantly, then Murray. The chair creaked under Murray's weight, creating an awkward air around the two as he slowly sat down into it.
The swivel chair spun around – slowly to add a dramatic effect – to reveal a fairly lean, but short, weasel, donning a worn fedora hat and a black ironed suit to match. Upon seeing his uncomfortable guests, a grave smile ebbed across his face. "The famous Bentley and Murray from the Cooper Gang. Well, two-thirds of it anyway. Your legacy precedes you, obviously. Your main man hit the slammer yet?"
Bentley grimaced. "Sly's been captured by Muggshot."
"Yah. I know." The weasel answered simply. "Everyone 'round here's been talkin' about it for over'n hour now…" he rolled his eyes. "And Muggshot's thugs sure made quite a show out of it too. Why, they done tossed his cane out the window."
At that moment, he stood out of his seat and planted his feet square beside the desk. Head held high and right hand folded behind his back, he held out in his other hand Sly's precious Cooper Cane. Bentley and Murray sat upright.
"Seemed a waste." The weasel continued. "Since the top part's made'a gold."
"Y-You don't intend the keep that, do you?" Bentley stammered.
The leader chuckled. "Not a bad idea. But I wouldn't. 'Cause – unlike Muggshot – I'm a gentleman. Here." He tossed it to Murray, who barely caught it. "Sides, I know much better than to start stealin' from top-notch thieves. I'd have to be crazy!" he snickered again. "Yah dig?"
They nodded vaguely.
"So, you'll help us get Sly back..?" Bentley asked.
"We might…" with a dangerous grin, he sat back in his chair and took out a cigar from his coat pocket. "I'm aimin' to strike a fair bargain." He flicked out a lighter. "Name's Ace, by the way."
Murray gripped the cane close and looked down at Bentley. The turtle frowned. Ace was playing a little game with them and they didn't have time to play. Sly could have been dead by now, for all they knew. "What do you want from us, Ace?"
Ace took a long drag from his cigar, not concerned in the slightest. "Nothin' much. I'm sure we can help each other. We tired of Muggshot pushin' us around like cattle in a ring. I hear from my spies that you guys came to kick'em outta here once and for all. An' I don't doubt that you kin do it."
Bentley leaned forward. "Why don't you just leave and go somewhere else, like Salt Lake City or another state? This must go deeper than an issue over territory. What's your real problem with Muggshot?"
Ace's character shifted into a darker state immediately. Eyes focused on Bentley, he slowly leaned back and crossed his legs up on the desk. A thin line of smoke sailed up from the cigar in his motionless hand. "Smart kid. Sure, I gotta bone to pick with'im." He admitted. "But it goes way deeper than y'all think. Big'ol Muggshot wasn't always such a tough guy. Growin' up, he was the scrawniest little pup y'ever done saw. Yah, we were all small once, but this is a runt we talkin' about. A loser."
"And you picked on him, didn't you?" Bentley leaned back as well.
"Naw. I was his only friend. Thought I'd git him some pity, though I see now he don't deserve none of it. And seein' I'm just a little weasel myself, it didn't look right to try an' act bigger than any dog – even a runt, while other dogs did push him 'round a lot back in the day. Anyway, I done took the half-bit to see a movie one day. Was a dumb ol'show, 'bout guns an' gangs and other crap like that. I nearly fell asleep, but I looked at him an' saw that dangerous twinkle in the kid's eye. Darn pup got 'spired by all the violence.
"After that, didn't see much of him again for a couple'a years. He just vanished. Didn't show at school, 'round the park. Nothin'. Finally, I figured he moved outta town. So I did what I do best; I forgot all 'bout him. Just stopped carin' after a while." His eyes narrowed. "Then… he came back. And boy was he different! I realized he been gone all that time workin' out, moldin' himself into a freak, an angry son-of-a-bitch! Come back in a rage and done took out revenge on folks who used to bully'im. Goin' off in the streets an' firin' off like a rabid animal! Scarin' neighbors outta their beds with guns and weapons I never saw before. Finally, he finds me an' told me all about his plans to turn Mesa City into a headquarters for convicts and eventually some sort of artillery storage core for some higher corp. Wanted me to join'im, but I refused. Not just that! I done spit in'is face! He beat me to a pulp and left me for dead. My boys in the CounterActs found me an' we come to this place to hide out with our old gang rivals, the Tire Chasers."
Once he was finished, he went to idly making smoke rings.
Bentley sat up straight again. "Wait. You said something about guns and weapons he used…"
"Yah, I did. Came back with all these new gismos, high-tech gadgets I'm not even sure the gov' has. Set up tight security with'em as well as his own little front. Sure 'nuff, convicts an' others just as bad catch wind 'bout this place and come flockin' around like it's mating season or somethin'. Scared everyone else outta town. Not us. Then… rumors started to spread. Apparently, Muggshot went out with some other people as crazy as him an' killed a whole family in a whole 'nother country. In cold blood, an' for no reason!"
Murray became rigid and clutched the cane so tight that Bentley was afraid he would snap it in half.
They both knew that it wasn't for nothing…
Ace lifted a brow. "That surprise you? I don't see any shock in it. Sounds just like the cut-throat merciless Muggshot we know an' love so much."
"So you want to chase Muggshot out of here." Bentley said tightly. "And somehow we're supposed to do that for you?"
Ace shook his head. "Naw, that'd be too easy. See, my boys out there are itchin' for some bloodshed, but they're all too scared they gone git killed, see. I hear you got some tech to match Muggshot's. You also got Sly, the legendary criminal… though, he could lose a lot'a credibility after bein' captured by an idiot... that son-of-a-bitch." He snickered and took another drag as his two guests frowned.
"A-All joking aside…" Bentley started slowly. "You've taken a long time to get to your point and I hope you realize by now that we really can't help you do anything until we rescue Sly."
"Sure sure…" the weasel nodded thoughtfully. "Like I said, I'm willin' to make a deal with ya. We'll help y'all bust Sly out. All you gotta do is get Muggshot arrested, see."
Murray blinked. "Wait, that's all?"
Ace knocked some ashes loose from his cigar, grinning widely now. "Yah, that's all. But it's harder than ya think. A single person could get in easily – someone like Sly – 'cause all one guy with his talent has to do is hop over that first gate, then—"
"Wait. The gates were left wide open." Bentley pointed out. "Sly just walked right in. I mean, it's a casino, so the gate should always be open so people can come in, right?"
Ace raised his brow again. "They knew Sly Cooper was comin'."
"Impossible. We made sure no one tracked us coming to the outskirts and no one saw us go to that hotel, not even your spies! And we even had Jizargo—"
"JIZARGO?!" Ace threw his head back and laughed. Bentley and Murray both flinched.
"You idiots!" he exclaimed. He tossed his cigar aside and sat up. "For world-renowned thieves, I would've 'spected y'all would do your homework!
"Jizargo Aristride's his name, an' the largest con throughout the Americas. You were tricked into bringin' Muggshot's own weapon carter into your fold."