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

While Blue Team was preparing to move out, loading their weapons, and organizing and equipping themselves with other useful gadgets, Murray curiously watched Sly slap a magazine into the conc-assault rifle. His attention turned away from the raccoon and observed as Penelope stored the obtained laptop into her satchel and pick up the same type of firearm. He picked up a random, laid-out pistol and studied it, he did not understand why anyone would favor guns. He saw Wilson use them, the crew use them, and now, even two friends he knew were even using them. What was it, exactly, that made this weapons so popular? He usually favored hand-to-hand combat brawls, and actually knew how effective it was, the use of firearms in many conflicts never really made a lot of sense to him.

He would understand it, the use of firearm weaponry, he had no likes or interests in guns, mostly because he did not like to be shot at. Guns were too loud, they echo for miles, he could just knock out an enemy with one punch without drawing the attention of the entire town. He was more stealthier than these weapons, which he practically laughed at. Out of mocking curiosity, he gave the trigger of the weapon a squeeze, but in performing this action, he fired a loud, ear echoing bullet, which caused everyone else to jump, their own guns raised. The hippo glanced at the revolver and carefully replaced it on the desk, with the other death weapons. He figured he would stick to using his firsts in close encounters and just let the professional gunmen handle the heaters.

"Yeah, it's better just keep your mitts off things, especially the shiny stuff owned by soldiers," Fitz told him, as the coyote sheathed two duel pistols.

"You can't blame him," Sly began, "he travels with us, and touching shiny things is what we do for a living."

"Have you ever figured that the things you take are probably dangerous?" Adams asked, loading his shotgun as he stuck it back into his back holster.

"Of course, that's one of the reasons why we try to steal 'em. It's better off in our hands so we can dispose of it, instead of leaving a dangerous weapon in the hands of a mad man."

"Well, didn't work out so well tonight, did it?" The Doberman replied, grinning with his use of sarcasm.

"Wow, Wilson wasright... You do have a smart mouth," remarked the raccoon, as Adams picked up his conc-rifle.

"Whatever," he replied, turning away to collect some more ammo.

With that, Sly turned his attention to Murray, whom was looking slightly uneasy. The small shiver of the wrist and single drop of sweat down his forehead was the main give-away, thatand he knew the hippo well enough to know that they were both had the same feeling about fighting werewolves. Not the whole idea of horseplay after watching a movie about the subject, but actually having to engage vicious, blood-lusting Forklore monster made real.

"You okay, Murray?" He asked, the hippo forced a smile.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about Bentley," he replied.

"Don't worry about him, he's not wandering around this place alone, right now, we just have to get ourselves to that generator and reboot it so we can gain a better advantage of the situation. Hopefully, we'll find Bentley there too."

Now feeling better with that act of comforting, Murray's smile grew more truthful and wide. It was just the confidence he needed right now. He had never stopped worrying about Bentley ever since after the Clock-La event, when he was left in a wheelchair. Sure, the turtle had assured him that he is quite capable of handling himself, but the hippo would never forget what happened back then, and of his current state that was preventing him from performing many things he could no longer do.

Without warning, a random drop of liquid fell and splashed between their feet. Sly and Murray both glanced up to find, to their horror, the drooling mug of a werewolf, sticking out of a removed air vent lid. The creature growled and then barked at the two thieves, provoking a panic within the security control room. Taking notice to the problem and being the only to summon the courage, Fitz stepped between them, aimed his SMG, and fired a fifteen bullet per second spray through the vent shaft.

"Quick! Let's make like a herd and get!" The coyote remarked, as he scurried past them to try and pry the door open. Murray gently pushed him aside and, with a few grunts, he pried the door open victoriously. With that, while the beast returned and began to crawl out of the vent, everyone of Blue Team ran out of there, and once the last man was out, Murray, Fitz and Adams began to push the door closed. Unfortunately, two clawed hands slipped between the two slide doors and began to pry it open again, the creature poked its head out, barking on content.

Adams swiftly pulled out his shotgun, stood in front of the werewolf, and jammed the weapon's barrel into its mouth. "Chew on this!" He cursed at the beast, as his finger squeezed the trigger, and in an instant, the creature's head was nothing more than a punctured skull, and blood all over him and the two comrades.

"Nice job, Ricky-chet!" Fitz told the Doberman, as he began to wipe the blood off of his features, "I guess that's one less dog to deal with."

While the coyote patted him on the shoulder, Penelope pondered in deep thought. Considering one of these creatures was intelligent enough to crawl through the ventilation system in order to get to them, it proved that they had more to deal with. As if monsters were not enough, but they were actually just as smart as they were. This meant the means in order to survive was to be smarter and more strategic towards these creatures, or end up as food. This was truly a hunt; predator verses prey.

"We need to keep moving," she told the others, and immediately started down a hallway. Sly, at least knowing she did not even choose a educated guess that would direct them to the generator, knew there was trouble. These things were smart, they were organized, and they were everywhere, and probably alike Blue Team, they were working with a plan as a squad.

As he caught up with the white mouse, followed by the others, a observing camera glanced at the group and then turned back to look at the dead creature. One hard-trained and breded specimen had just been terminated, meaning the prey was the perfect test for them. The observing AI Noah realized that in order to create the perfect hunting predator, some may be killed in the process, however, if all of the prey was to be taken down, all of those whom had survived would be considered the ultimate predator. In the meantime, other business was to be attended to.

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