(Here you have it, the final showdown between Muggshot and the Cooper Gang!)

Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

The Boneyard Casino, Mexico City

3:26 am

Muggshot's penthouse

Just like in Mesa City, Muggshot's penthouse was dark, with a wide view overlooking the town below. The last two times they had fought, it had been in daylight. Now, Mexico City sparkled below them in the blackness of night. There were no mirrors here this time, nothing Sly could use to his advantage. However, Sly had quite a lot more tools at his disposal this time around. Now, in a stand up fight, he was more than a match for the bodybuilder bulldog.

However, as he stepped in, Sly noticed something odd: Muggshot was large, but he was nowhere in sight. There was almost nowhere to hide here. No curtains, no trapdoors, nothing. He looked to his left, and almost blasted the cardboard in front of him apart with his AK. Several large cutouts were positioned off to the side, mostly of the Cooper Gang. All of them had been blasted at one point, but Dimitri's, understandably, had been blown to smithereens by a hail of high caliber rounds.

The only question was…where was the gun-toting gangster himself?

Something suddenly clicked in his mind, however, and he raised his AK once more. The massive chair in front of him was turned to face the window, and it was more than large enough to conceal Muggshot's bulk. In fact, the chair suddenly turned around, slowly, and Sly tensed up, finger on the trigger as he drew a bead on where he knew Muggshot's head would be. However, when the chair finally stopped turning, there was no Muggshot there. There was no one there. Nothing…except a large package of C4.

Sly's mouth went dry, and he cautiously stepped forward to examine it. It looked to not have a timer on it anywhere, remote detonation. The little that Bentley had taught him of explosives seemed to have paid off. He knelt down, but before he could get to work clipping wires, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Sly whirled around, gun in hand, to find himself staring down two humongous gun barrels, and ducked and rolled just in time. Five shots sounded, ripping into the chair right up at the headpiece, tearing the seat into pieces. Miraculously, the bomb remained unharmed.

Sly was breathing heavily from behind a large potted palm, clutching his assault rifle to his body in fright.

"Hey, Cooper. Nice trick, huh?"

Muggshot, for the first time Sly had witnessed, walked out of the elevator on his feet instead of his knuckles. One of the guns he was packing was smoking, and the other was held at the ready. A quick glance at the bulldog's backpack showed Sly a very unpleasant surprise: out of the enormous pack, two belts of ammunition, loaded with shotgun rounds, extended to snake up to the guns Muggshot was carrying.

Sly groaned, stepping out and saying "Belt-fed automatic shotguns? Aw, come on, now that's just cheating."

Muggshot turned, grinning, both guns trained on Sly as he replied "Really? Actually, not so much. What's really cheating is that little beauty over there." He nodded over to the bomb, sitting on the remnants of the chair. Sly gave it only a quick glance, then trained his eyes back on Muggshot.

"Yeah…what about it?"

Muggshot's toothy grin grew, and he responded "Y'see, Cooper, that bomb right there, in case you should get lucky a third time, is programmed to detonate…as soon as my heart stops beating."

Sly glanced at the bulldog's jacket, noticing a rather large bulge over the left side of his chest. That would be the trigger pad, then. He glanced back at the bomb, but Muggshot snarled "Don't even think about ripping it out! It's anchored to the floor through the chair by titanium cables! You'll never be able to pull it out!"

Sly nodded to himself, having to admit he was rather impressed. "Wow, Muggshot, you actually went full out for this, didn't you? No cover, no other levels, automatic shotguns, a bomb as a backup…what, did your bitch, or should I say mother, plan this out for you?"

Sly had to act fast, for Muggshot let off another few blasts from the shotguns. Sly managed to dodge to the side, hearing Muggshot snarl "That TEARS IT! I been toyin' with ya long enough Cooper! My boys and Katurskay's soldiers may have been easy for ya, hell, maybe even Taloreso's mercenaries, but I can guarantee that here and now, between you and me, is where it ends! Ya may be a walking arsenal, but I'm STILL indestructible!"

Sly chose not to respond in words, but instead poured rounds from the AK into Muggshot's chest. The bullets punched through the two bulletproof vests the bulldog was wearing, and Muggshot snarled in pain before remarking "Ya know, if I was you, Cooper, I wouldn't be shooting at my heart right now, would I?"

Sly realized that Muggshot was right. In order to win, he not only had to be careful about where he placed his shots, he also had to somehow get Muggshot outside, and he doubted the bulldog would fall for going into the elevator. Out the window then…Sly made a dash for the giant window, with Muggshot's rounds punching after him, ripping through the carpet and wall. As usual, the bulldog couldn't hit for crap, and Sly made it to the window unharmed. However, as Sly emptied the AK into the glass, his heart sank. Instead of shattering, several spider web cracks simply appeared where the bullets made contact. It was bulletproof. Still on the run, and now having to listen to Muggshot's annoying laughter, Sly rammed a new clip home into the AK. He had to distract Muggshot, make him run into the glass somehow…but how? His eyes were drawn to Muggshot's weapons, and an idea formed in his head. Detonating the ammo and wrecking the guns would cause Muggshot to throw them off and come after Sly for hand to hand, as well as cause some large-scale damage.

It was at this moment, as Sly fired his next burst of rounds, that the AK jammed in his hands. He skidded to a stop, working frantically to pull the slide open. Muggshot, meanwhile, seemed to find humor in Sly's situation, enough to stop firing and draw closer, saying "Aw, would ya look at that? AK's are famous for never jamming, but when they do, it's almost impossible to fix it. Well you're outta luck now, aren't ya?"

Before Muggshot could crack one more joke, however, Sly chucked the assault rifle full force at Muggshot's face. The bulldog, not anticipating the strike, lurched backwards, howling, giving Sly enough time to pull his Uzis. With four clips left for these little marvels, Sly waited until he had a chance at the ammo pack before opening up. However, his timing was off, and the 9mm rounds buried themselves into Muggshot's vest and arm. Cursing, Sly threw the machine pistols aside, grabbing the M3 instead, sliding up close and blasting Muggshot full in the stomach, away from the detonator. The bulldog lurched backwards, and Sly, seeing his opportunity, let loose a round in each of Muggshot's guns. One of them blew apart, pieces fly everywhere, while the other was simply dented in the slide by the force of the shot. Muggshot snarled, throwing the now useless guns aside and reaching for the magnum revolver under his jacket, but Sly, seeing a true opportunity, fired another blast towards the ammo pack.

He got lucky this time, and the pellets tore through the canvas pack, igniting every single shotgun shell against Muggshot's back. As Sly's back was to the window, the explosion threw the bulldog in exactly the direction he'd wanted…but, unfortunately, straight at him as well. With a howl of agony, Muggshot stumbled towards Sly, reaching back and trying to put out the fire on his jacket. His back, at one point rippling with hard muscle, was now a ruined mess of blackened, bloody flesh. It was a miracle the bulldog was still standing. Sly quickly dropped the M3, leaving it to dangle by its strap, and pulled his pistols, emptying their clips into Muggshot's face. He never got a lethal shot, however, as Muggshot was staggering around so badly that most of Sly's rounds missed. The few that landed settled in the bulldog's cheeks and ricocheted off his teeth. Sly's pistols clicked empty just as he back into the glass. As he hit resistance, Sly ducked, just in time as well, as Muggshot took one last desperate swipe at his head, missing and smashing through the window.

Tackling Sly full on, Muggshot tumbled out the new gap, taking the Master Thief with him.

They tumbled through the air, towards the parking lot out in front, spinning end over end. As the ground zoomed up towards them, they flashed past two of Muggshot's Hueys, and Sly thought he could spot the shocked faces of one of the crews. Time seemed to have no meaning, and the fall stretched on for what seemed like hours.

Finally, however, after an agonizing wait, Sly felt the lurch of Muggshot's bulk going straight through two cars. Fortunately, Sly had been on top when the impact happened, and although he was jolted from the bulldog, all that happened to Sly was an abrupt impact and a roll, and he was back on his feet. Sly looked back at the wreckage, only to recoil in shock. Muggshot's entire body was slashed to ribbons, and the bulldog had landed on his already ruined back. A large, jagged piece of steel speared up through his chest, reaching into the air, crimson streaks of blood running down it.

And yet, inexorably, the gangster was still alive.

His eyes narrowing, Sly looked around, briefly, before glancing down at his hand. He'd managed, against all odds, to keep hold of one of his pistols, and he ejected the empty clip, jamming a new one home and releasing the slide. With a malicious clacking sound, the first 9mm round slid into the barrel of the 92FS, and Sly stood, feeling the M3 still dangling from its strap. He still had two shells in the shotgun. Unfortunately, aside from the countless clips of pistol ammo in his pockets, this was all Sly had. Sly drew closer to Muggshot's ruined body, gun held loosely in his hand, stopping only when he was looking straight down into the bulldog's eyes. One of Muggshot's powerful, muscular arms raised itself, trying to reach up and inflict some kind of damage on Sly.

However, the Master Thief simply dug his pistol in between the gangster's eyes, snarling "This is for them. My parents. Dimitri. Everyone you ever hurt or killed. This is for all of them."

With extreme relish, Sly's finger pulled the trigger, and the pistol barked in his hand, sending a 9mm round through Muggshot's forehead and bouncing around inside his skull before coming to rest somewhere in the mess that was once the bulldog's brain. Muggshot's eyes glazed over, and his jaw slackened. His arms finally fell to earth, never to rise again.

Sly peered down at his feet, squinting at the brass cartridge by his boot, glaring as the smoke finally stopped rising from it. With an almost guilty expression, Sly kicked the cartridge away, glancing around the dark parking lot. Sirens were beginning to flood in, and Sly began to get the impression there were just a few more vehicles than the local force had in their garage. A resounding explosion cut the air above his head, and the Master Thief glanced up, briefly, to be treated to Muggshot's penthouse being blasted to smithereens.

It was as though the sky was weeping with glowing relief.

Monterrey, Mexico

3:38 am

The Dockyards

The docks were almost always full of small boats, local fishermen who went about, making their living on the usually peaceful Rio Panuco. Nothing strange usually ever happened here. Monterrey, though a popular tourist spot, was also very isolated in terms of people who actually were Mexican. The local police department wasn't even Mexican, staffed by Interpol officers and a few hired men from out of town.

Tonight, however, that all changed.

The Orca had served her purpose. She'd barely managed to nudge her way up next to the docks, right where the loading ramp could swing down to, before she'd become grounded on her port side, literally anchored in the shallows. Marty looked over the town, examining the docks in particular. They'd have to be extra particular with how they handled the van, as any tip towards the side could send it to the river.

Marty pushed off the gunwhale he'd been leaning against, sighing to himself. They were almost there. So close.

And yet, they were really further away then before.

They just weren't aware of it yet.

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