AN ICE SURPRISE

Job 4: Clear As Cop

Carmelita unclips her badge from her choker and shines it on her shirt. She pulls on a sweater and tucks the bottom into her jeans, and shrugs on a heavy, puffy vest that buttons closed. She checks her aim: the tight sleeves of the sweater let her move and keep her arms warmer, and the puffy vest and thicker pants are helping the rest of her. Bentley reaches out a hand, and she takes the communicator, presses it to the back of her badge (whether by magnets or glue, it sticks at once and doesn't move even when she shakes the badge) and clips it back to her choker: she won't be able to wear a mask or have a visible earpiece inside. One warm hat later, and she makes her way into the snow.

Sly is already here, somewhere, probably already at the statue park getting instructions, so she doesn't bother looking for him. Instead, she makes her way through the snow, to the path leading up to the entrance of the compound.

Bentley contacts her when she's in view. "Got the paperwork?"

Carmelita reaches inside her vest and pulls it out. "I've done this before, Bentley."

"You're—"

"Here both as a safety inspector and to ensure their papers are in order, as this is a newly established business and location," Carmelita recites. "Though how this is going to fly if they're illegal as you say, since they won't be in our databases."

"They're in there," Bentley says. "It's common enough to hack Interpol's databases and add or remove information as necessary."

Carmelita growls. "We really need to update our security."

"There isn't enough room in the budget for an update," Bentley says, "and they won't trust me to do it for free. I offered."

Carmelita tucks the papers away again. "You'd leave yourself a back door."

"As if I need one. In any case, get inside, open up the drainpipe so Sly can get in later, and see what you can find out."

"Don't let Sly do anything stupid while I'm in there."

"He's well occupied. Now shoo!"

Carmelita nods and starts forward again. Holsters her shock pistol, holds her head high. She's an honest cop (still) (mostly) going about her business with an honest (unlikely) company, and so she has nothing to fear. She doesn't flinch even when she walks into the spotlights.

The guards all jump on her, but she taps her badge. "Inspector Carmelita Fox of Interpol," she says, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out her wallet. Flashes her ID. "You haven't had your safety inspection yet, and since you're in an international area and I had business on this continent, I got tapped."

One seal grunts at her, looking down his tusks. "We weren't told there'd be an inspection."

"When people know about their inspections, we don't find anything," Carmelita retorts, flipping her wallet closed and tucking it away. "Go ahead, call your manager, make all the necessary arrangements, then let me in. I need a full tour. Inside and out, thank you."

Another seal pulls out a radio. Carmelita waits, letting them see her tap her foot and cross her arms with impatience; she'd be more professional than this, during the real thing, or she'd try to be anyway (routine inspections are so dull) but it suits her right now. Sure, she's caught dozens of international criminals, but that just means they have every reason to believe she'll be out of practice and lazy with the routine stuff. Enforcing that will only help her.

At last, the gate opens and someone emerges. Hard to know what species they are, under the massive coat and oversized pants and ski mask and earmuffs; furred, certainly, and so much of his muzzle has turned gray with age that the rare black hairs seem out of place. Even the long tail is clothed in a sleeve that buttons to the back of the jacket. He leans heavily on a crooked cane. The man extends a hand to Carmelita and says, in a voice with no accent whatsoever, "Inspector. A pleasure to see you. I'll be giving the tour."

Carmelita shakes his hand. "Likewise." She releases his hand and lets him lead her inside.

'Inside' being a relative term. Behind those giant walls, topped with barbed wire and open to the sky, are four buildings: proper buildings, with roofs and walls that aren't made of snow; one even has a chimney. Carmelita glances around and asks, "What are they?"

"Most of the guards live in the surrounding area, but officers quarters are there," he says, pointing to a three-story building like an apartment building or an office; Carmelita starts strolling around the inside of the walls as he talks, and he matches her pace. "The long low building in the corner, there, is Morty's house; he likes to put on airs."

Carmelita snorts. "Morty?"

"He's in charge here. Let's continue, shall we? Production takes place over there: melting snow, mixing in different things to give the later ice the right quality, freezers—they primarily use the cold weather to freeze, but the freezers ensure the temperature is constant rather than having variables that will harm the ice." The third building seems dug into the ground. "That last building serves as an aircraft hangar; given our location, having a few planes for emergencies seems prudent."

Carmelita crosses her arms and leans against the wall. The drainpipe is in sight; she just has to go unnoticed long enough to clear it. "Have they been registered?"

"I'll make sure the paperwork goes under your eye," he says, "only that's not what you're really here for, is it, Miss Fox?"

Carmelita stiffens. "That's Inspector Fox to you."

"And I suppose I'd better use that now," says Carmelita's guide. "How's Sly? Still driving you crazy?"

"What in the—"

"Bentley kept himself out of trouble?" Carmelita's guide grins and, when he speaks again, has a distinct British accent. "I don't suppose Murray's had the opportunity to drive any tanks lately."

Carmelita steps away from him, frowning. "Who are you?"

Carmelita's guide takes off his earmuffs and pulls off his ski mask. Thaddeus Winslow Cooper The Third runs one hand through his fur, removing the hat-hair pressing down on his cheeks, and bows, reaching for her hand; Carmelita is stunned enough that she lets him kiss it. "Marvelous to see you again, my dear. It's been years."

Carmelita snatches her hand away. "Okay, I have questions that need to be answered, now. First—"

"This is the only settlement I could find," Thaddeus says, straightening, "and I have no desire to freeze to death. Given how the world thrives on coincidences, I deduced it would only be a matter of time until you, or another relative of mine, more suited to this time period, would arrive." He blows into his gloved hands. "I'd be delighted to go into more detail, but later. I assume you have an objective here, and these old bones of mine detest this weather."

Carmelita stands there as he pulls the ski mask back on. In her ear, Bentley is freaking out, alternating between demanding answers of the air and hyperventilating and grumbling about needing his inhaler, but she ignores him. "How'd you get a job here? There's no way you have any legal docu—" she stops and groans. "Right. They probably don't care."

"No, I simply forged them." Thaddeus slips his earmuffs back on. "I have, however, had to hide my identity, a story I'll get further into later. Now, my dear, what is your objective?"

Carmelita grins, marches to the drainpipe, and kicks the crud blocking it out of the way. "That," she says, "as well as gathering evidence. Shall we?"

Thaddeus matches her grin with one of his own, coughs, and begins putting on a 'tour' with that generic accent. "Now, I can't get you into Morty's building, and I can promise there's nothing for you in the officer's quarters, save for an entryway to the basement; I have yet to get down there myself. Let's start with the production facility, since that's where I was mopping when I got called away to give you your tour."

Play resumes... with a difference. Now, players are controlling Thaddeus. So Thaddeus leads the way, bundled up in his winter clothes, and players may notice something... different about him.

Now, running has been a Sly Cooper game mechanic for years, given both its real life applications and its usefulness to thieves. Thaddeus can run, sort of. Both his walk speed, and his run speed, are just this much slower than Sly's, Tennessee's, and the rest of the gang's: just enough for it to be noticeable. Hard to say at the moment if that's because he's in a disguise or because he's aged at least ten years since the last time Carmelita saw him, but either way, this is not a character designed for fast getaways.

When Thaddeus opens the door, he pauses. "If anyone asks, the password I need to use i Triangle," he says quietly. "They only ever use the one password, which makes my life easier; and the guards inside tend to wear all sorts of outfits, since it's so cold in here, so no one will bat an eye at my appearance." He glances at Carmelita. "Several rooms of this facility are ones they will not want you to see, noted by the guards in front of the doors."

"So those are the ones I want to investigate the most," Carmelita says.

"Naturally," Thaddeus agrees. "Please stay out of sight until I've relieved the guard on duty, then I'll open the door for you and you can explore."

Play resumes inside. Carmelita stays in the entryway while Thaddeus steps out of it, into a hallway extending to the left. A single guard stands in front of a door there, a... well. This is interesting. The guard is a rat trooper, gas mask tied to his belt, decorative patch featuring feathers crossed like swords sewn on the front of the jacket. Thaddeus strolls up to him. "Break time," he says, carefully without his accent again.

"Already?" the trooper yawns. "Eh, who cares. Got the compound password?"

Thaddeus announces (the player types in) "X X X Triangle, of course."

"Good enough for me." The rat trooper scratches his snout and yawns. "It is way to freaking cold in here. I'm going to wrap up in my bunk until I've thawed out." And then he takes off.

Right towards the entryway where Carmelita's standing.

"Hey! I don't recognize you. What—oh, who cares."

"You're not going to password check me?"

"I'm off duty and the person on duty gave the password. You could be one of those freaking Coopers the boss is always angry about and I still wouldn't care now." The sound of a door opening, then closing.

Carmelita walks up, looking confused. "What was that all about?"

Thaddeus shakes his head. "Some guards have no sense of professional responsibility," he murmurs, turning to the spinning lock on the door and setting one hand on it. This is only a single spinning lock, not a double; Thaddeus takes his time, easing it clockwise and counterclockwise, and the door pops open. He pulls it the rest of the way and bows. "After you, my dear. I'll wait for your return."

Carmelita walks in, and Thaddeus stands guard at the door.

Inside is... well. This place is absolutely failing its safety inspection. It's nothing but moving conveyor belts over bottomless pits. Large containers shaped like animals move along them; the conveyor belts start and stop often. Every time a line of statues reaches the center of the room, the belts stop, a mechanical hand pops the top off, and a river of snow falls inside, filling them. Then the hand closes the statue mold again and the conveyor belts jerk forward.

Carmelita can't leave the room on the conveyor belts; the openings for them are too small for her to fit. But she can cross the room, with some well timed jumping, and access the snow stockpile.

Bentley speaks at last, "Anything interesting in there?"

Carmelita snorts. "Just regular snow. I could go outside and grab a handful."

"Better try another room."

So Carmelita leaves, jumping between conveyor belts and not landing on the statues or bits of snow between them. Thaddeus nods to her when she emerges. "Next room, then?"

"Next room."

The guard at the next room password-checks Thaddeus and yawns. "It's good money, but I'm not sure it's worth being all the way out here," he says. "I'm sick of snow down my boots."

"The cold doesn't agree with my old bones," Thaddeus agrees, and waves the guard off. He opens the door for Carmelita and bows her through.

Well.

This is the fire room.

I can't tell you why there are blowtorches every few feet, heating up the statue molds—oh, wait. They're melting the snow. Makes perfect sense. The ozone in the air makes Carmelita sneeze. "Sometimes I hate being thorough," she mutters as she looks at the conveyors and the flames and plots out a course across the room.

The far side, at least, has something... interesting. "This must be how they're fueling the flamethrowers," she says, examining a barrel of something, "but the room isn't well ventilated enough. Bet half the people working here will have lung problems in five years."

"But the stuff itself is legal?"

"Unfortunately," Carmelita says, straightening. "I guess we'll see if there's another room."

There is. Thaddeus gets rid of the guard (shivering, even indoors in a heavy coat) and waves Carmelita through.

All right then.

This room is somehow even colder than it is outside. Carmelita's breath puffs in clouds before her; the clouds freeze to her cheek fur. She rubs away the ice crystals. The statues are cooling rapidly, and once they're far enough across the room that steam stops, something lowers around them and injects something with a hiss. Any water that splashed on the conveyor belts earlier (maybe from bits of snow that fell around the statue molds instead of in) has already frozen in icy patches on the conveyor belts. And the machinery swings even more wildly than the flamethrowers did.

Carmelita almost breaks her ankle getting across; she mistimed one of her jumps, slipped, and almost careened into the abyss below. She lets out a long breath when she's finished. "Hope I don't have to do that again," she mutters, then examines the canisters being used in the injectors.

Carmelita cusses and pulls out her binoc-u-com. "These are full of nitroglycerin," she growls.

"Explosives?" Bentley strokes his chin.

"And in highly illegal quantities! If one of these is in every statue..." Carmelita grinds her teeth. "I don't want to know what they could blow up, but I know I won't like it."

"Swell." There's the sound of Bentley typing on the keyboard. "While you were doing that, I hacked into their plane parking system and got the info on the other building. You're all set to come back to the safe-house. Tell Thaddeus Sly'll meet him at the drainpipe if he wants to leave that way."

JOB COMPLETE

Carmelita makes as if to shoot the nitroglycerin, then her shoulders droop and she turns away.