2:48 AM
A small island off the coast of Finland
It's a clear night; a few wisps of cloud float in front of the full moon. The electric fence around the island is up and running; three rows of spotlights drift back and forth along it, their brilliant lights crisscrossing as they check the areas both inside and outside the walls.
One clicks out.
An alarm blares. With a rattling creak, the fence opens. A guard slips out, a grumpy owl, who pauses to scratch at the feathers on his shoulder. He doesn't notice the shadowy blue figure slip through the gate behind him.
The figure climbs a rock outcropping just within the fence and ducks into a crawlspace in the rock. He emerges on the other side of the outcropping, into a shock of moonlight.
SLY COOPER
The Thief
Sly Cooper is a gray-furred raccoon with dark circles on his tail. A tied-on criminal domino mask hides his normal raccoon mask; he wears a blue hat and shirt, blue gloves with bright yellow cuffs and a belt with a raccoon head on it. On his leg is a red pouch full of gadgets; he pulls out his binoc-u-com and looks through it.
Through the view of the binoc-u-com, Sly can survey the area. His own picture is in the lower left; in the lower right is a wheelchair-bound turtle wearing a sturdy helmet and glasses thick enough to start fires. "I'm through the first barrier, Bentley," Sly says to the turtle. "How are things on your end?"
"Besides an abundance of nerves, I believe this is going well," says Bentley. "I'm 97.3 percent sure they've underestimated us."
Sly raises an eyebrow. "Which 'they' are we talking about?"
"The criminals we're dealing with," Bentley says. "Don't worry. If my calculations are correct, our 'friends' are in no position to try and assist us here."
"Good," Sly murmurs. "The last thing we want is them complicating things here. I'm going to start my approach. Is everyone in position?"
With a burst of static and squiggly lines, Bentley's camera changes. Now it shows a pink hippo wearing a wrestler's mask. "I'm at the back door, like Bentley said."
Another burst of static, more squiggles, and the camera shows a blue-haired fox, her Interpol badge prominently displayed. "I'll handle the frontal assault. You just get in there and cause all the right trouble."
Sly smirks. "Oh, believe me, I will. Just one more wall, and I'll be inside. There must be some way past it."
Bentley groans. "Just stick to the plan, Sly."
Sly puts away his binoc-u-com without promising Bentley he'll stick to the plan which, really, is about the best we can expect from Sly. With that, he pauses to look around.
It's late at night, but clear enough; the ground around Sly is shadows moving through darker shadows. Sly stands on bare dirt between the electric fence and a tall wall. Statues stand every few feet, each showing an owl. Most of them are natural poses: flying, diving, sitting in a nest, feeding chicks. As Sly moves around, though, a disturbing number feature the owl with prey. Mice. Iguanas. Turtles. Foxes. Raccoons. Even young versions of some animals, like bears and hippos and walruses.
It gives Sly the willies as he moves along. No guards patrol here; they seem to rely on the high walls to keep people out. And the walls are high: too high to scale. Unfortunately, the small drainage pipe in the far right corner is more than enough for Sly to squeeze through by pressing the circle button, as a little pop-up of information informs him.
Well, unfortunate for them, anyway. It's just what Sly needs. Another wall stands before him now, but this one is covered in statues itself, rather than the grounds. An open window lies far overhead. Hidden between statues, a single vine snakes up the side of the wall. A helpful tip tells him to jump and press the circle button, so he does, latching onto the vine and making his slow way up (and sometimes sideways), stopping at the window to scan the room (empty) before continuing.
"I'm in," Sly says, looking around at a corridor covered in lasers and spotlights before turning to look back out the window. The owl guard who left when Sly entered returns, scratching his feathers again.
"Great. Murray, are you—"
"Totally! This is the part right?"
"Right, and you need to be extremely-"
"THUNDER-FLOP!"
The security in the hallway goes dead as Bentley's long-suffering sigh comes through the binoc-u-com. "You need to get to the basement, Sly. Head right for the stairs."
Sly snickers as he obeys, moving right and to the stairway (the Bannister glows blue, but no prompt comes up explaining). "How's it coming on the rooftops, Bentley?" he asks as he reaches the ground floor.
"Easier than I expected. The basement's unconnected from the sewers Murray's handling; you need to make your way there. His... efforts should have most of the security turned off."
"Guard presence?"
"Don't you worry about those, ringtail," Carmelita says.
Sly has a chuckle in his voice as he replies, "If you say not to, then I won't."
The hall Sly walks down splits several times, but most of the splits are blocked: laser security, too tight for Sly to get down. A heavy portcullis that Murray could probably pry open. Down many of the blocked halls are small orbs that emit hazy fog in purple or green, daring Sly to come closer. He doesn't. Because they're all blocked off. And besides, Bentley's in his ears, being nervous about him taking too long.
Down another flight of stairs, to the basement. Some corridors are flooded, but the way forward has slowly moving spotlights. "They must've had some back-up power," Bentley mutters. "Don't get spotted, pal."
"Come on, this is me," Sly says.
"Yeah, that's why I worry."
Sly rolls his eyes but doesn't argue as he makes his way down the corridor, pausing when necessary and timing himself to go around the spotlights. Sometimes convenient pipes allow him to climb to the ceiling and go over otherwise impassable spotlights, but mostly it's timing, finding the path that isn't underwater or blocked by security gates, until Sly reaches a large red door with a shiny combination lock on the front.
"Been a while since you've had to deal with one of these, buddy," Bentley murmurs in Sly's ears as Sly presses the circle button and kneels closer to it. "Circle the joystick slowly in one direction until you feel the rumble of the pins falling into place; then circle it in the other direction for the next pin; and finally back in the first direction to get the last pin in place and open it. Be careful you don't go too far on any spin and knock them all out of alignment."
It's good advice, or it would be if Sly were an amateur. He has the lock open in moments, and pushes open the door. A massive room filled with machinery greets him. It's still now, but partially finished robots, the most finished ones with obvious weapons, hang on the conveyor belts. Sly smiles. "Hey, Carm?"
"Yeah, Sly?"
"I've found it. Make the bust."
In seconds, sirens fill the air. "Take some pictures, ringtail," Carmelita urges.
"Press down on the right analog stick to bring up your binoc-u-com," Bentley says in his ear, "then the R1 button to take a shot. I'll have them sent to me and Interpol."
Sly snaps pictures-of the conveyor belts, of the robots, of the machines—and Bentley sighs. "Another dead end. Without even analyzing them, I can tell these aren't the same make as the robots that haunted us last year."
Sly twirls his cane. "Hey, at least we know where it's not."
Bentley glares at him until Sly fidgets. "Sorry."
"Better put on your uniform before you go upstairs."
NOTES:
Hello, everybody. Welcome to Sly 6. I have a lot of other stuff to say, but I don't want to clog up the very first chapter with notes...
So they'll be on the second chapter, this Tuesday.