Sly 4: Bentley's Healing, a sly cooper fanfic

Welcome to my latest work! It's been a minute.

Thank you all so much for the feedback on "The Chopper Ride" and "The Early Cases"! It means the world to me, seriously. Since the last time I wrote, I've figured out that I operate best as a writer filling in the blanks of established canon, moreso than creating a new story branch with OC, new family members, etc. This will only be my third ever short story in any medium, not just fanfic, so I know that limits me as a writer. But in truth, this style is what I like doing most! With that being said, I love and miss Sly Cooper, and would love to keep pumping out stories in Sly Cooper's world; unfortunately, there aren't many ambiguous moments in the Sly Cooper canon that were previously presented to us. Or rather, that gives us the opportunity to fill in the blanks, like "The Chopper Ride" could. But I think I've identified one. Considering the larger Sly Cooper community's belief that Penelope was mishandled in the events of Sly 4 (which she was), the subject matter may be a bit questionable to put it lightly, but as of now, that's the established canon we have, I might as well work off it.

So with me running on a feeling, as always feel free to tear it to shreds if it's just not very good haha, and thank you all for reading!

PROLOGUE:

Shock, confusion, despair, nausea. and the worst of them, heartbreak; far too many conflicting emotions passed through Bentley too quickly for his hyper-trained brain to register properly. "I…I think I'm gonna be sick," is all he could mutter to himself.

Already in the field with a heavy heart, Bentley couldn't move at the sight. His beloved Penelope was last seen working with Bentley in the Cooper Gang lab on a top-secret project, later revealed to be a time machine (which Bentley finished alone). She vanished without a trace; the always-caring-of-others Bentley was worried sick. For a large majority of the time spent on their mission, Penelope occupied his mind. Unmasking herself (for something trivial as just getting some air because the suit was getting "stuffy" no less) as the Black Knight who invaded Sir Galleth Cooper's time was too much for the poor turtle to handle.

Not just the unmasking itself, but the cruelty behind Penelope's words were like knives sticking into Bentley's heart. "Brainwashed" by Cooper's honorable thief rhetoric? Could have "owned the world" with their collective minds? Who was this mouse? Did she ever understand the Cooper gang at all? Was she never actually one of them?

"It's impossible…" "Penelope could never…"

The pleading in Bentley's mind would go unanswered. But it could not stop another feeling from overwhelming him: the crippling embarrassment. How could Bentley have allowed himself to be used like this? How did any of them let this slip by unnoticed? To be called "dumb" by the woman he loved without any hint of jest behind it was humiliating. Just plain humiliating.

"What…what did I do? What did I do?"

With Penelope now out of sight, Bentley slowly wheeled himself out of the blacksmith's shop and made his way back to the hideout, careful to avoid any patrols that might be lurking. He couldn't speak a word to the rest of the gang upon his arrival, despite their pleas to answer if he was okay. Fortunately for him (relatively speaking), Carmelita was manning the comms unit while he was in the field, where she witnessed Bentley's discovery as well, relaying the betrayal to the rest of the crew. So at least Bentley didn't need to look anyone in the eye and tell them the love of his life was on the take and needing to be hunted down. That didn't stop the others from trying to check on their friend upon his return, but he clearly wasn't having it. Bentley just really needed to be alone, so he felt.

Which is exactly what he did; he pushed himself to a secluded corner of the balcony, fled into the safety of his shell, and escaped the reality of the situation.

BODY:

The small, compact shell was the perfect size for comfort, tailor made for Bentley. It certainly helped when Bentley wanted to be alone, the tight walls practically hugging him. But the sanctuary of his shell wasn't effective in protecting him from the thoughts swirling around his brain. Namely, all the questions.

"Where did it all go wrong?"

"Was it something I did? Was it anything I said to her?"

"What happened?" "What happened, Penelope?"

"Was it…"

Skimming through the files of his memory bank, nothing was coming up for him. He treated her like a queen; or rather, like an esteemed colleague, terminology he assumed was of the highest compliment for someone of her intelligence and capability. They relied on each other for emotional and physical support, a foundation any solid relationship could be built upon. If she ever stumbled in her research, Bentley was quick to offer help. If Bentley needed an extra set of hands, Penelope was the first one there to provide.

She was helpful; she was sweet; she was his rock! "Penelope was happy!...right?" But his memory bank was empty. For what seems like the first time in his life, he had no answers. In the end, he couldn't stop his mind from fruitlessly wandering.

"When did this happen?"

"What did I do?"

"How could she just leave?"

"Why did she leave?"

"Why?"

"…why?"

"…WHY?"

He stared blankly at his shell walls begging himself to answer his own pleading. When the walls offered no answers, he shut his eyes as hard as he could. "Maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough for the answer", he rationalized. It was a fool's task, but he wasn't thinking clearly; he was hurt, and he'd do anything to provide himself the relief to his wounds he desperately sought.

Maybe searching the answer is the wrong way to go about it, because she admitted her motivations to him already (albeit unknowingly). He knew exactly why she betrayed the crew, but he couldn't understand why she would betray the crew. What caused the change of heart? When did she begin to change her feelings on the Cooper Gang? He just couldn't understand. The smartest turtle on the planet was at a loss for words. In his vulnerability, he was reminded of the décor within the shell: he had hung up a photo of himself and Penelope months before, when they were a happy couple spending their time inventing ground-breaking ideas and creating life-changing formulas.

In his shame, he ripped the photo from the shell wall, ripping it from the tape and tearing the photo in half.

"WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONG?", his mind screamed. "WHERE?" "WHERE?!"

Finally, the tears came, and they didn't stop for some time. He didn't realize it in the moment for understandable reasons, but he would be grateful his sorrow could be expressed so transparently. Now that he's bottomed out emotionally, the healing process could begin.

Deeper into the night, Bentley continued to hide inside his shell on top of his makeshift stump of a single pillow and some books, curled upright into a ball having exhausted himself between sobs. The torn photo still clung inside his fist, crumpled from his tight grip. Groggily, Bentley looks around with swollen eyes.

"Oh, Penelope…"

Suddenly, *KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Bentley flinches at the sudden activity taking place outside. Suspiciously heavy fists knocked against the outer shell; just based on the knock, and the power behind said knocks, Bentley knew who was there.

"Murray…I know you're just checking on me, but please don't."

Suddenly, his shell was gripped, and he was lifted in the air.

"WOAH!"

He could still feel himself airborne, though only silence fills his thoughts.

Until- *SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE*

Murray began shaking the shell, gently by his standards but with a tornado-like ferocity for Bentley. Understandably, Murray is worried about his friend, trying to coax him out of his shell to properly check on him; admirable, although the method of action was questionable to say the least. Bracing the shell walls for dear life:

"MUR—RAY—PLEASE—STOP—YOU'RE—MAK—ING—ME—SICK!"

Mercifully, the earthquake stopped. A few more beats passed in the air before Bentley could feel his shell placed back down (he assumed correctly on his wheelchair). Struggling to stop his head from doing a few rotations, he saw the shell moving in place, made more disorienting considering it was only about 5 inches from his face.

"Uhhhhhgh…that…was unpleasant."

Soon after, he could hear footsteps move away from his shell. But a few moments later, the footsteps passed by again, this time headed in the opposite direction, Bentley subconsciously bracing his shell as a reaction. Luckily, round 2 never came; instead, he felt something be placed on his shell. Whatever it was made a sticking sound to it, but it was brief, and the footsteps were no sooner gone in the distance.

Bentley sighs. Quietly:

"I'm sorry, Murray. I know you mean well, pal. But I just need…I don't know."

He really didn't know, which unnerved Bentley greatly. Only when Sly goes off script or the rare instances Murray causes too much damage on a job does Bentley begin to start questioning his plans. But these were plans merely going off script; in the end, the job was usually successful, just taking the scenic route getting there. Penelope's actions, however, were akin to taking Bentley's blueprints and throwing them into an incinerator.

So, what would Bentley do to get his plans back on track? Think about the issue and find the solution, like always.

"Penelope…when did something change?"

There must've been a point when Penelope's view of the gang changed.

"Perhaps it was when we first began working on the modifications for the Cooper van. I know she wanted to modify it with reinforced steel and remodel the doors to better transform into wings, for instances we needed to go in the air. Plus, it seemed like she missed flying. But I had to reject her proposal because the materials needed were being used on the time machine. We both agreed that was priority number one. But she must have resented me for it all this time."

Bentley's face grows sullen.

"Heck, I'd resent me too. It was a great idea. We just couldn't afford to in that moment…"

He buries his face in his palms.

"Or maybe she never wanted me at all. The comments she made towards Sly on our first job together, when we were still building towards the Cooper vault job…she certainly had a thing for him, maybe she never actually got over him. It would be easy to leave if she never- "

His voice catches itself; he almost can't continue the thought. Finally-

"-if she never loved me."

Stating this possibility was enough to make his eyes well up again. But the tears wouldn't fully restart.

"There has to be something I did wrong! It just doesn't make sense! What is it? What is it!?"

Anger built up through gritted teeth.

"It just doesn't make sense…it doesn't... There must be a reason. It's illogical she would leave without a good reason. Our adventures around the world together, the time we spent working, inventing. There's no way she would abandon me, right?"

At the rate his mind was spinning and tumbling over itself, he'd qualify for the Olympics specializing in mental gymnastics. Anything to ease the sting of reality.

The creeping truth was he could sense what he was doing too; the work he was doing finding a solution was all in vain. He knew nobody who truly loved him would say what she could say about him while alone. The actions she committed, specifically against Sly's family, were the work of someone missing something within them; a conscience that would been screaming "this is wrong!" while betraying the crew she had grown close with. He just couldn't admit this to himself.

The evidence was there, but Bentley was a genius playing dumb about it.

"It's illogical. She wouldn't."

"Maybe she- "

Nope. Not that, try again.

"Or maybe- "

Also not correct.

"She might have- "

Again, the same result: forming useless theories that were designed to provide Bentley an answer he'd like rather than confront the cold hard truth. This went on for some time, and eventually Bentley wore himself out drumming up theories. Slowly, his eyes became too heavy to carry.

"Maybe…"

His final theories would go unfinished, as Bentley drifts off to an exhaustion induced sleep, his body shutting itself down offering his mind mercy.

Bentley opened his eyes, where he was greeted by nothing but black and red, stretching across the landscape as far as he could see.

"What? ...what is this place?"

Surveying his immediate vicinity-

"GAH!"

He found himself at the top of a steep hill, changing to a cliff at its very end. Which one he wasn't quite sure; he was very well-travelled, it could be anywhere from his adventures. From the distance, he could just work out the black outlines of a mountain range among the sea of red before him.

"What…but what am I doing he- "

*CRASH* *RUMBLLLLLLLLLEEEEEE*

A sudden shockwave from further ahead startles Bentley, who reflexively grabs hold of his wheels to prevent himself from careening down the hill. From far below, past the edge of the cliff, he witnesses the colossus forming from the ground: it's the Black Knight, though titanic in size compared to its real-world counterpart. One massive hand reaches out onto the ground, another one opposite it, and the Black Knight is pushing itself upwards, finding its feet under it to stand up.

"Penelope? Is that you?"

Before he can fully comprehend the sight before him-

*SWOOOOP*

A massive gust of wind rushes him from behind, with a figure swooping in close to ground level (relative to Bentley), threatening even more to throw him down the hill. Bentley grasps his wheels for dear life, gathering just enough grip strength to stay upright on the hill. The figure flies directly upwards towards the sky, before taking a nosedive down just over the Black Knight, righting itself upwards with its wings at the last moment. This gigantic figure was not hard to decipher who it was:

"CLOCKWERK!"

Clockwerk, massive in scale just like his counterpart, formed a menacing tower of destruction fixated solely on the awestruck turtle. Bentley couldn't move; he was petrified at the sight before him. Clockwerk. The Black Knight. Together across the red and black backdrop.

Bentley could barely think when-

"*ahem*."

Directly behind, less than a foot away from him, Bentley heard an all-too-familiar voice. He wheeled himself around to the figure before him.

Penelope. With the sweet, innocent smile on her face, never once containing a hint of malice behind it throughout the time they spent together.

"Wha-what- "

But there was something different about her. Not her demeanor, but the way she looked, the way Bentley's mind chose to process his image of her. The Penelope before him was reminiscent of how she looked when she first captured his heart, wearing her thick workman's gloves and blue, dirty, and tattered overalls. The red bandana was the only aspect of her outfit that resembled Penelope as she was today. And her smile, even that could draw a nostalgic feeling of adoration, accompanied by dread, from Bentley.

Hands behind her back, she leans in, inches away from his face.

Smile sprawled across her face:

"…boo."

Bentley flinches away from the mouse, losing his balance and reacting too late to gather his wheels, rolling backwards down the hill. He at the last moment wheels himself right side around, yet uncontrollably continued to barrel towards the two titans.

"No no no no NO NO NO NO NO!"

The Black Knight wound up its fist, Clockwerk cocked back his wings, and in synchronous harmony, commenced their respective swings at Bentley, who helplessly met them at the crescendo of the cliff. Flying headfirst into the striking behemoths:

"AHHHHHHH!"

He jolts up.

*pant* *pant* *pant*

He finds himself in a cold sweat and near an asthma attack. From a nightmare unlike any he's ever had before, Bentley feels around for his inhaler in the midst of his hyperventilating, eventually finding it.

*HUFF*….…..*HUFF*

After some time, normal breathing patterns return. Bentley consumes giant gulps of air, eventually calming down from his episode.

"*gasp*, *gasp*, that was far too realistic for a dream."

He sighs. Noticing the time, he sees that he wasn't asleep for very long.

"What am I doing?" he asks himself, "Clockwerk, Penelope, they only mean danger! Snap out of it!"

He knocks against his valuable head, trying to regain his senses.

"What am I going to do with her? Think!"

Focusing, he musters all the power within his brain to do what he does best: form a plan of action. He was stretched thin mentally from his earlier agonizing, but that wasn't going to stop Bentley from trying. Think, think.

Luckily, he wouldn't have to tire himself out much longer. Muffled voices a distance away from his shell catch his attention. It sounds like arguing.

He peeks out of his shell, looking towards the main area on the second-floor of the hideout. There, an unusual site awaited him: Carmelita in the midst of a meeting at his projector.

"I was going to bring that up too- "

"Not another word, Sly!" Carmelita sniped back at Sly. She was in the middle handing out assignments where Sly keeps interrupting, Bentley surmised. He looks on.

"Your speech does nothing to lift our spirits, Sly", the Cooper gang's guest of time, Sir Galleth Cooper, adds on.

"Galleth, do you think you can plant your explosives on the bridge controls?"

"Stout! This plan rings true!"

"But," Bentley thinks to himself, "we don't have enough intel on the castle yet. It could draw unwanted attention to us. It's too risky right now."

"Okay, everyone get ready to move out." Carmelita continues. "After that bridge comes down, we'll have to get in there fast."

"Sorry," Sly interrupts again, "I missed the part about what we do when we get inside?"

"We'll…have to improvise."

"Sounds good to me!" Sly finishes, closing the meeting.

"WHAT!? THAT'S THE PLAN?!" Bentley screams in a thought bubble. He retreats back into his shell.

"This plan will never work! You don't "improvise" against Penelope, she's too smart for that! They're all in danger!"

Bentley peeks out again, seeing everyone has left the hideout.

"Oh no! They're already setting the plan in motion. This isn't good!"

It's here he notices something stuck to his shell. He remembered that something had been placed on his shell, making a sticking sound, and he finally viewed what it was: a hand-drawn picture of the Cooper gang, colored in and showing off surprising craftsmanship (as neat as crayons can look). Bentley reaches down and takes the drawing into his shell, retreating inside once again. Murray was the artist of the group, known to doodle from time to time, and his latest drawing featured himself, Sly, Bentley, and even Carmelita, all present together with the Bentley in his picture giving a reassuring thumbs up. Murray even correctly drew the neutral face on Carmelita, who was clearly peeved about being there in the first place, but had still been a team player throughout their ordeal.

The thoughtfulness and the innocence in Murray's clear pleading to cheer up Bentley, packaged together with a neat bow on top in the form of this one drawing, brought back the tears in Bentley's eyes. This time, with an understanding smile across his face.

This was his family. Nothing was going to break this group apart, no matter how hard anyone tried.

Finally arriving at the task at hand:

"I've got to do something!"

He re-inserts himself back in his shell properly, limbs stretching out and back sitting properly in his wheelchair. Rolling away from the balcony (or tree limb, however way you look at it), he uses his mechanical arm extensions stretching out from his backpack to aid him back on to the first floor. Frantically, he searches around the hideout.

"What do I do? Do I have anything here that helps me?"

Scanning…scanning…no luck. Although, he does come across the Cooper van.

"Maybe not here. But there is something back in the present. It should be perfect for the Black Knight!"

He wheels himself full speed ahead to the van. Bentley hasn't driven the van since his accident, but he did still remember how to drive a stick shift. With the aid of his mechanical arms, he figured it shouldn't be too much an adjustment driving with technology rather than limbs.

Besides, he had no time to reconsider. It was literally a matter of life and death.

"Wait, I need something from this time-period so I can get back."

Once again, he scans the room. Meeting his eyes towards the table, he finds a stash of gold coins strown about, era appropriate and perfect. He snatches one, and heads back to the van.

Now, he needed something to get to the present. Scrounging around, he realizes he had the solution already.

"Of course."

He sighs. Reaching into his shell, feeling around briefly, he grabs what will get him back home: the torn photo. The photo was taken with a brand-new camera, which will lead him back to the present day. He pulls it out from his shell, and gazes upon it one more time. Nostalgia from a long-gone time is quite powerful, he's finding. Even when the subject has been tarnished.

"Well Penelope, I can safely say this will be the last time you ever help me."

He gets inside the van, places the photo inside the time machine, and starts up the engine. The backpack arms reach out from behind and start fiddling with the pedals; one on the clutch, the other on the gas. It takes a few moments of practice to get the rhythm down, and it's certainly clunky considering the arms can't really feel the pressure on the pedal, but after some time, he reaches a level satisfactory to him that will get the job done.

Ready to roll, he floors it on the gas, zooms out of the safe house, and flies in the opposite direction of the village, charging towards the countryside road. With enough speed within moments, the van begins discharging electrical currents, before ripping open a vortex in the spacetime continuum, vanishing in the blink of an eye with Bentley in tow.

*ZOOOOM*

A fiery trail left in its wake, Bentley arrives back at the Cooper hideout in Paris. His main concern was how much time had he spent traveling through time, understanding he needed to get to work, and fast.

He sets up his chair and exits the van, arriving at the door and unlocking each of its security measures (eye scan, thumbprint scan, vocal recognition, rock paper scissors contest [security system always picks rock, paper, rock]), and darts inside.

His lab couldn't feel further away even if he wheeled as fast as he could. But alas, he arrived, immediately searching for what he felt gave the gang the best chance of success.

"Now, where did she leave it?"

Thinking, thinking.

"Ah ha!"

He works his way to a large test tube in the southern corner of the lab filled with fluid but otherwise empty, needing to get to the heavy security door just to its left. He enters the passcode, and the giant metallic doors slide open, revealing what looks like a mini airport hangar filled to the brim with various gadgets and materials.

Wheeling between the aisles of science, Bentley searches quickly but thoroughly through the sophisticated tech. He eventually arrives at an aisle in the northeastern sector of the hangar, where he finds his prize: a large orange mech with stout, metallic legs, and thin, straight arms. They seemed more akin to the pallet raiser of a forklift, and they did not bend too well. The overall size of the mech was about 3/4s the size of the Black Knight's suit.

"Hmm, I said this would be the last time you helped me, Penelope, and I meant it. This design is terrible, what were you thinking?"

Surveying the mech:

"These arms aren't equipped to carry even light cargo since the elbows don't bend all the way. And the legs need to be taller, with a fortified base at the feet, that way it can't be knocked back easily. If you were expecting to ever take this into an actual fight, Penelope, you wouldn't have lasted five minutes in this state."

He takes off his glasses and cleans them, before placing them back upon his face.

"Luckily, I'm here now."

You wouldn't believe a turtle could move so fast if you didn't see it for yourself, but in a race against the hare, Bentley might as well have been a rocket ship. Tightening the bases of the feet here, connecting the new wiring at the elbows there, Bentley was working the job of two genius scientists in record timing. Partially because he had the help of what might as well have been two cool handed scientists, the mechanical arms proving essential to efficiency. Feet now fortified, arms now bending more adequately, his next task was to extend the leg length; it never hurt to make the machine look more imposing against the Black Knight, Bentley reasoned.

"This should do the trick."

He creates a mixture of magnesium and copper alloy into a thin exterior for the area that would consist of the knees and thighs on the body. Fusing the material onto the fortified feet doesn't take very long for him with the assistance, just a bit of wiring and soldering is all it takes. Taking a step back, Bentley is satisfied with the work he's done so far. But still:

"Hmm, that's pretty good so far, but there's more I can do here. What else is missing?"

Giving the mech a once over, an epiphany hits him.

"Ah ha! Why only give the legs a tuneup when the arms could use one too? I already modified the extension for the arms, but why stop at movement? We can beef up those forearms and make this one mean fighting machine!"

He knew he was burning precious time, and Penelope was not going to wait for a fair mech fight, but he still wasn't ready to take her on yet. This was essential.

So he wasted no time working on making the reinforced shell for the forearms. An iron and steel mixture to offer tough resistance, and to be able to dish out meaningful damage, the process of heating and cooling the metals into shape took longer than the actual installation on the arms. But alas, the final enhancement was complete.

"There! All done. Now that only took…2 HOURS!?"

Slight panic began to settle in.

"I need to hurry back to Sly!"

In a hurry, Bentley realizes a slight snag in the plan to hurry back to Sly.

"Wait…how am I gonna transport this to the van?"

Uhhhh…..good question.

"Hmm… I wonder if…"

CRASH!

A loud blast from the entrance of the Cooper hideout (not your average door mind you). What could possibly have caused that damage?

Well, a Bentley driving the mech and pressed for time could, for one. At the cost of the Cooper hideout entrance (he can fix it later; luckily the lab had a second layer of security to it that nobody short of the gang could gain access too), Bentley emerged from the wreckage. All the while carrying his chair in one of the mech's hands while moving as fast as he could towards the van (imagine a giant robot trying their hand at competitive speed-walking and you get the idea of how this looks).

Arriving at the van, he places his chair down before sitting on top of the van itself with the mech. Laying parallel on the roof gave the mech just enough space to rest on top of the van without dragging hands and feet on the street, so he does this, pulling the emergency evacuation cord and popping out afterwards, swiftly landing in his chair waiting below. It took Bentley about 20 car straps to tie down the mech adequately, reverse hog tying the arms and legs together through the open doors on the van, but it didn't need to look pretty or efficient; it just had to work.

With EVERYTHING he could possible do now done, he enters the driver's side, places the English gold coin in the time machine, and guns it down the road to activate it, hoping he's not too late.

He arrives back pulling into the safe house, accidentally busting a hole through the door with the now-suddenly-much-taller van. He exits, surveying the scene. Nobody was home still, worrying Bentley.

"I hope I'm not too late. Now, where is everyone?"

Thinking, as he always does.

"Hmm…it seems they may be- "

KABOOOOOOOM!

"WHAT ON EARTH WAS THAT!?"

And soon a CRASH! draws Bentley to window, where he sees the smoke rising from the explosion emanating from the castle.

Time consciousness was Bentley's worry this entire time. Was everything he did matching up timing wise? Was he going too slow, making good pace, there was no way to tell for sure, just operating on feel. Now, the moment he saw the black smoke rising to the sky was the notice he needed: he was finally out of time.

Hastily, he worked to free the mech from its strappings, hopped onto the roof from his chair and entered. In no time, he was hauling down the medieval England streets in a 21st century machine of general destruction. While some had left to investigate the explosion, the majority of the heavy-duty walking guard tanks were still patrolling.

Not a single one was a match for Bentley.

A POW here, a THUNK there, one more KERBLAM for good measure, and dashing through the village was nowhere near the challenge it could've been for Bentley had he not made the detour to the present. He arrived at the castle, though realizing a little too late that he approached it from the side. But no matter, as the mech had a unique feature that wasn't added by Bentley. On the soles of its feet Bentley had noticed some exhaust ports, which were essentially just holes underneath. A flip of the switch later, and Bentley was off the ground, boosters lifting him on the side of the castle, close enough to the wall that Bentley could climb the rest of the way up.

THUD

Eventually, after a little bit of effort, Bentley was at the top of one of the castle towers, giving himself a clear view of the castle courtyard. In truth, the timing could not have been more crucial: Sly was pinned under fallen debris and Penelope, whom Bentley was witnessing for the first time following his episode, was closing in on him.

Reminded of the broken turtle he was mere hours before, the agony and turmoil her treachery brought upon him and his friends, anger at the sight of her was replaced by a vigorous sense of determination. The endgame was to defeat Penelope no matter what, but even more importantly to him, he needed to rescue Sly and save his friends from the immediate threat Penelope transformed into. A monster he can't help feel responsible for.

With every fiber of his being, Bentley looks on and demands:

"That's enough, Penelope!"

EPILOGUE:

He got the answers he wanted from her, being surprised how open she was about her intentions. There was no sense of closure to be found from her declarations, unfortunately.

"This was all for me?" Bentley thought. "How ludicrous."

"Sly stole my potential? What do you mean "stole"!? Sly has been my best pal since we were kids. I don't trust anybody more than I do him!

But the most infuriating thing she revealed to him:

"Selling me and my friends out was a 'means to an end'? How do you expect me to believe the smartest person I've ever met could lack the foresight on such a poorly thought-out plan!?"

Nothing about her reasoning made any sense.

"Where did this lust for power come from?"

She hadn't shown any power-hungry inclinations since her days as the Black Baron, if those really counted.

"How could she say they'd make billions? Sly left the entire Cooper fortune to all of us, including her; riches weren't going to be a problem anymore."

Was Penelope truly just sick of Bentley?

"Then why is she saying this was all for ME?"

On second thought, the conversation was actually pretty relieving for Bentley. Now that he heard it straight from the source, he could see now that the person he once knew and loved was long gone, blinded by the corruption of wealth and power. She willingly threw the precious time spent inside the lab with Bentley in the garbage for a cheap ploy at "opening Bentley's eyes". This is not the Penelope he was prepared to share his life with, and he's pretty pleased he eventually came to this conclusion.

And so, the battle between The Black Knight and the Moat Monster (thanks for the reminder on the name of Bentley's mech, Penelope) commenced. Toe to toe, blow for blow, the two machines were evenly matched, a credit to Bentley's planning ahead on the enhancements he made for the battle. The battle was more akin to a boxing match; coincidentally, neither machine contained any means for projectiles, so mechanical fists trading shots was the fight script between the two. After a long and draining fight, Bentley landed a bruising haymaker on the Black Knight, knocking it back and ejecting Penelope, clearly unable to continue. The former love of his life was down for the count.

With Penelope due to be locked up, the gang left medieval England behind and headed for the next time-period to repair. Now, there was a renewed sense of vigor within the gang; Bentley helped lead the charge against their new enemy, the crew had a clear direction where to go, and most importantly, they all recognized Bentley as someone different. A repaired and more confident turtle.

As Murray drove away through time, Bentley found himself revisiting the red and black mountain-scape he had concocted at his lowest low. Right back at the top of the cliff, staring down Clockwerk and the Black Knight all over again. Only this time, the panic and uncertainty were absent. Instead, he glared a hole in his former foes from the higher ground. Attempts at intimidation proved futile for the duo.

So when they readied up their attacks, Bentley was the one with the surprise this time: he pushed himself down the hill willingly, reaching top speed and never breaking eye contact with his target. Down the hill, up the cliff, and Bentley is soaring midair, his enemies striking at the turtle. But it was Bentley who struck first. In one fell swoop:

*SWISSSSSHHHH*

A clean slice from Bentley's chair, him using it as his weapon of choice, and the figments were gone from his imagination, disintegrating into the ether.

With that, the two greatest foes who damaged him so greatly in body and soul on separate occasions, now fell dominated by the superior spirit.

Bentley couldn't help but smile with himself.

. . .

Thank you all so much for reading.