They had arrived in Paris three nights ago. The past week had flown by in a blur for the three friends. They had each been provided with a crappy bed sit and white collar job on the eve of their eighteenth birthdays (a quick half hour of computer hacking on Bentley's part had miraculously equalised his, Sly's and Murray's ages to the day) and they were each shipped to a separate corner of town, told where to turn up for work the following day and provided with fifty dollars to tide them over until their first paycheque arrived. Needless to say, each of the team was there for all of five minutes to ransack the place of anything of value before meeting at the bandstand in the centre of town, as agreed.
It was at about nine o'clock when Murray came bouncing up to the empty bandstand, his arms bulging with an assortment of items from the apartment, including a table lamp, a kettle and a tiny black and white TV.
"Guys?" He called out tentatively. "Anyone here?"
Silent shadows answered him, contrasting sharply with the pale yellow vomit from a nearby streetlamp.
"Guys?" He tried again, a little more worry creeping into his voice. He was late, but only by about ten minutes. The guys wouldn't leave without him…would they?
"I'm here," came an irritable voice from behind the stand. After a few seconds Bentley emerged, dragging a heavy leather suitcase behind him.
"Thank God," Murray breathed with relief. "I thought I'd missed you."
"You are late," Bentley said, checking a small table side clock from his suitcase, "but it's ok. We have as much time as we need now."
"Yeah," Murray chuckled in excitement. He knew just as Bentley did that they were about to begin a journey that would transform their lives.
"Where's Sly?" Murray asked checking around. The small tortoise seemed to be alone.
"I have no idea." Bentley shivered. "He's late too."
Suddenly a piercing high-pitched laugh rang out over the deserted streets and drizzle damp roads that made the hippo and tortoise near die of fright. Both their heads snapped in the direction of the sound; the top of the bandstand. A few seconds passed after the laughter had died away, and silence and stillness reigned supreme. Bentley and Murray dared not breathe in that horrible few moments. Then a familiar blue cap and black-circled eyes emerged over the top of the edge of the bandstand.
"Sly you complete tool!" Bentley roared. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Murray simply exhaled deeply.
"Aw, c'mon guys, I thought it'd be dramatic." Sly quipped.
"Yes, well, what it lacked in originality it made up for in volume," Bentley said sardonically. "Have you been up there the whole time?"
"Uh-huh. I wanted to surprise you guys." The raccoon beamed.
"You did."
"Aw, I knew it was Sly all along." Murray said.
"Sure ya did big guy," Sly replied cheerfully, hopping down to the ground. He had his cane with him as per usual, but this time there was what appeared to be a folded over bed-sheet on the end, bulging with unknown items.
"Hey you got a TV?" Sly said, gesturing to Murray's collection of recently purloined items. "All I got was a radio and a cheap cassette player."
"It's only black and white." Murray reasoned. "I figured we could trade it for a better one once we get settled in Paris."
"Good idea." Sly concurred.
"Not to rain on anyone's parade here, but did either of you guys bring any food?" Bentley interrupted the pair. Both Sly's and Murray's faces fell. Bentley rolled his eyes.
"Right. Well, it's a good thing I raided the fridge in my place before I left."
The raccoon and Hippo brightened up.
"You're the man Bentley." Murray exclaimed to his diminutive green pal.
"Yeah, well." Bentley smiled. "Now, can I assume that you both got fifty dollars petty cash?"
Both Sly and Murray nodded.
"Right, well the hundred and fifty we have between us we can…" He paused to look at Murray, whose face was screwed up in concentration and was frantically counting on his fingers.
"It's ok Murray, it makes one hundred and fifty dollars, you an trust me."
Murray smiled and nodded.
"Right, well we can use that money to get food tomorrow. As much as we can, canned stuff and non perishables preferably."
"Bentley, you make it sound like we're going off to live in a bunker." Sly chipped in.
"We have to be careful Sly, there's no telling how long it'll take us to get to France, or where we'll stay when we get there. The more provisions we have now, the better."
"Understood." Sly nodded. Bentley nodded back.
"But…what do we do right now?" Murray said, asking the obvious question.
"I'm glad you asked that Murray." Bentley said. "Now, we find a car."
Murray's eyes lit up like headlights.
About an hour later the three friends were sat in a stolen Volkswagen under a toll bridge a few miles outside the town. Bentley had advised against Murray's first choice, a rather sporty BMW on the grounds that they would be about ten times more likely to get caught. The car that they had finally selected was located not particularly close to any houses, and was parked in such a way to suggest that no one actually gave a crap about it. It was a sickly yellow colour and had rust spots all over the bodywork. After a quick check for an alarm, Sly forced the lock; Bentley hotwired the engine and Murray bunny-hopped it to somewhere inconspicuous. The big hippo drummed his fingers on the wheel, while Sly yawned next to him.
"Wasn't bad for a first run," the Murray mused.
"Hmn?" Sly said, waking up a little.
"It wasn't bad, for a first drive I mean," he replied.
"No, it was quite good," Sly said sleepily. "You hardly hit anything at all."
"Guys, it's freezing in here," Bentley chipped in from the back seat.
"Sorry dude," Murray said turning to his friend. The tortoise was perched on the back seat beside their pile of stuff. There hadn't been time to pry the boot open, so they had simply piled everything they owned into the back, closely followed by Bentley. The only thing that wasn't in the back was Sly's cane, as the raccoon like to keep that with him at all times.
"I have to keep the engine running to get the heater to work and we're down to half a tank as it is."
"Damn." Bentley commented. He wrestled his duvet from under their pile of junk and carefully wrapped it around himself. Once he'd made sure that he was totally covered by the blanket save for his head and that no cold air could get in, he pulled his arms and legs into his shell. He looked like the cherry on top of an ice-cream dessert. Sly craned around to look at his friend.
"I keep forgetting you can do that," He said, returning to gazing idly out of the window. A light drizzle was beginning to form on the tarmac outside, beyond the bridge. He scooched down in his seat to see if there were any stars out, but the night was too cloudy. He sighed. Murray continued drumming his fingers.
"I'm getting kinda cold now too," Murray said pathetically.
"You didn't bring a blanket," Sly stated.
"I didn't think…" Murray's eyes became big and dewy.
"Oh, alright," Sly conceded, "You can share mine."
"Thanks Sly." Murray smiled widely.
"But I am not stretching it out over two seats. Let's get in the back with Bentley."
The raccoon leant into the back seat and began to pile their stuff save for his blanket at the foot of the passenger seat. After it had all been moved, he hopped in the back and took the window seat. Then Murray (after some amount of difficulty), squeezed into the back between his friends. Murray took up a lot of the material, but since Sly had lucked out with the bed in his room and the blanket was from a double bed there was even enough to give Bentley an extra layer.
"I love you guys." Murray sniffed.
"We love you too," Sly reciprocated, "just keep your hands to yourself."
"Yes, I must admit, you and Sly have become family." Bentley smiled.
Murray put his arms around his friends while Sly just stared quietly.
"Do you guys remember anything about your parents?" He asked after a little while.
"Not me." Bentley replied. "My earliest memories are of the orphanage. I think I even got my name from them."
"That's sad." Murray said sympathetically. Bentley shrugged, well sort of shrugged, since he was now essentially a giant living walnut whip.
"You don't miss what you never had."
"What about you, Murray?" Sly glanced up at his gargantuan friend.
"Well, I don't think I remember my parents, but I do have the dimmest memory of lots of other hippos…I think I must have been the runt of a big litter."
"Hmm." Sly commented. Bentley and Murray could kind of sense what was coming. As Sly's friends there was a kind of unspoken agreement between them to never mention Sly's parents and their tragic demise.
"I can remember my parent's quite well." Sly said quietly. The tortoise and hippo remained silent; there really wasn't anything they could say.
"I told you guys what happened to them right?" He continued, more loudly this time.
"You told us that they were killed by a gang who robbed your house…" Bentley said, as tactfully as he could.
"Yeah," Sly sighed. "I ever tell you guys what they stole?"
Bentley and Murray exchanged a glance.
"Er, no Sly, you just told us that they trashed the house and…you know…" Murray trailed off. Sly smiled a small smile at him to alleviate the hippo's guilt.
"Yeah. Well, remember how I told you I come from a long line of thieves?"
"Uh-huh,"
"I wasn't kidding. As far back as we can trace there's been a Cooper master thief, and every one of them passed a book down generation to generation filled with all their tricks, tips, jobs, plans and stories."
"A book?" Bentley furrowed his brow.
"The Thievius Raccoonus." Sly nodded.
"A chronicle of thieving…" Bentley mused. "Anyone who had that would be able to become an instant master thief…"
"Well, that's the theory." Sly sighed.
"So…that's what they were after?"
"It must have been. Right after they…" Sly's eyes became glassy. He swallowed hard before he continued. "They broke into the family safe and tore up the book. They didn't take anything else."
"Wait, they tore the book up?" Bentley said, confused.
"Yeah." Sly nodded. "There five of them, and they each got a clump of pages."
"I see…"
"It makes me sick to think about it. My father once told me that there are entries in there that date back to ancient Egypt, the Old West, Victorian England…"
Murray emitted a low whistle.
"How did you get away?" Bentley asked, pure curiosity for the time being overriding his tactfulness.
"I have no idea. My dad tried to hide me when they broke it but I burst out when they attacked him. I woke up when the paramedics were there. They could have finished me off easily, but they didn't. The last thing I was able to do was save this." Sly raised his cane sadly.
There was a long silence for a few moments. The drizzle outside became a full on shower.
"Did you…get a good look at the attackers?" Bentley asked quietly.
"Not really." Sly sighed. "The little pieces I do remember my memory is clouding over."
"Any details?"
"Well…" Sly strained, "there were defiantly five of them…and the one who…who…"
"I know." Bentley said simply.
"He was a bird," Sly said, his voice rising, "an owl I think."
"Anything else?" Bentley nodded.
"Yeah," Sly said as if remembering something for the first time, "but it's stupid. I can't be remembering it right."
"What?" Bentley pressed.
"He…he was a…he looked like a…"
"Yes?"
"A robot." Sly finished. Bentley and Murray exchanged glances.
"Stupid, huh?" Sly chuckled humourlessly.
"Maybe not," Bentley said cryptically.
"Eh?"
"Have you ever heard of the Fiendish five?"
"The Fiendish Five? Didn't they go around having picnics and solving crimes?" Murray said.
"What? No, they were a criminal gang who were operating around about the time Sly came to the orphanage."
"What did they do?"
"Bank jobs mostly. They were notorious for about three years, and then they just stopped, no one knows why."
"Wait, how do you know this?" Sly asked.
"I read the papers." Bentley shrugged.
"Bentley, you were six years old when I came to the orphanage."
"Yeah?" Bentley stated.
"Never mind. Anyway what's the point?"
"Well, the leader of the Fiendish Five was an Owl who was, as far as all the available sources was heavily into body modification and had most of his organic body replaced with cybernetic components."
"Yeah?" Sly said with great interest.
"Yeah. No one knows what his real name was, because no one can remember a time when he was flesh and bone. All we know him as is Clockwerk."
Bentley's words reverberated through the cold air in the tiny car. For a few moments the whole world was still.
"Clockwerk," Sly simply repeated, staring at the floor. All three remained silent for a long time. The air inside the car became gradually colder and colder, and it wasn't before long that their breath formed visible misty clouds that clung to the glass of the windows. Murray hugged both his pals tighter, and Bentley retreated even further into his shell so that just his nose and upper face was visible.
"Will you guys help me?" Sly spoke suddenly.
"Hmn?" his friends replied. They were half asleep.
"Will you help me?" Sly repeated. He was still staring at the floor.
"I've gotta get my book back. I've gotta avenge my family." He turned to Bentley and Murray. "I'm going after this 'Clockwerk' and I need your guys help."
"Well, I don't know, Sly, I mean…"
"Please?" Sly begged. He was beginning to tear up again.
"I'll help." Murray said firmly. Sly looked up at his friend with infinite appreciation.
"Bentley?" Sly pleaded.
"I…I'm not…yeah. Yes, yes, I'll help you."
"Thank you guys. Thank you so so much." Sly gushed. Murray gave both his friends a bone-crunching hug.
After a cramped night spent in the car the following day was mostly spent teaching Murray to drive. Once he'd got to grips with the basics he turned out to be a natural. Bentley and Sly travelled back into the town and stole some licence plates of a number of other crappy cars, so they'd be able to elude the authorities for that much longer. Sly had managed to smash a licence out of one of the cars, and Bentley altered it to carry Murray's image. It wouldn't stand up to any close inspection, but it should get them where they were going. After that they hit the road, and after a few days travelling reached the coast. With no passports they had to use most of their money hiring a trawler to smuggle them into France. Here they had to abandon their car, and once they arrived at Calais, they spent a gruelling day hitchhiking their way down to Paris. Once they arrived they spent the last of their money renting a dilapidated two-bedroom apartment in the projects, and all three slept for the best part of a day. Once they had all settled in and refreshed themselves they went to work. Sly wandered the streets with his cane by day, perfecting his pick-pocketing skills, and at night Bentley drew up thieving plans. Their first job had been to rob a local radio shack, as Bentley was confident that he could put together a communication device.
Which brought Sly, the following day, to trying out Bentley's latest invention. "Bentley, come in Bentley, over."
"Sly this is Bentley Reading you loud and clear."
"Nice one Bentley, these Binocucom things you built are working."
"Was there ever any doubt?" Bentley's voice came more rasping than usual through the Binocucom's tiny mike.
"Yeah, well, it didn't look like much when we swiped the parts." Sly muttered.
"Ok, Bentley, I'm approaching the target."
"Copy that," Bentley replied. "I'll be with you every step of the way, but be careful."
"Hey, c'mon pal, it's me you're talking to." Sly pocketed the Binocucom and strode confidently towards the jewellers.
"It didn't go that badly." Murray belched.
"I don't wanna talk about it." Sly said from under his arms on the tabletop.
"Well, I think this proves that nothing should be done without a plan B." Bentley interjected. Murray shovelled another fistful of peanuts into his gaping maw. Sly remained face down on the table.
"Come on, I'll get some more drinks in." Murray announced, rising from the table. Bentley drained the last of wine from his glass and sighed.
"Ahh, in vino veritas, eh?"
"Bentley…" Sly moaned, still from the table surface.
"Sly, come on, the important thing is that you managed to escape."
"You don't understand Bentley, it was utterly mortifying. I'm supposed to be a master thief for God's sake. Master thieves don't get chased out of jewellers by security guards."
"Sly, you're not a master thief yet."
Sly raised his head and stared at Bentley.
"I'm sorry Sly, but it's true. I'm sure you will be some day, but for the time being you're still learning." Bentley pointed out.
Sly groaned and returned his head to the table.
"And besides, you did manage to swipe just enough to fund this delightful little outing. And you're still good at pick pocketing."
"I'm a common robber." Sly mumbled. Bentley was about to console Sly some more, but at that moment Murray bound excitedly up to the table.
"Hey guys, they were selling these for ten francs each!" Murray said, placing a shot glass half filled with clear liquid in front of both Bentley and Sly.
"What is it?" Bentley asked, eyeing the glass suspiciously.
"They gave me these too!" Murray exclaimed, dumping a sachet of salt and a lemon wedge on Sly and Bentley. The raccoon still hadn't bothered to raise his head.
"Murray, what is this?" Bentley repeated, raising the glass and sniffing it. He recoiled quickly. "It smells like ink."
"It's a tequila slammer!"
Sly lifted his head.
"We have to lick the salt, drink the drink and then suck the lemon." Murray declared.
"We have to?" Bentley asked apprehensively.
"C'mon you guys," Murray whined. "Here you go."
Murray grabbed Bentley's hand and mad him make a fist, then he poured the salt onto the fleshy part between his thumb and first finger. He then had Sly peel back one of his gloves and made him do the same.
"Right," He said after pouring his own packet of salt onto the back of his hand. "Remember, we lick the salt, slam the drink…"
"Wait, wait, 'slam'?" Bentley interrupted.
"Yeah, you drink it down as fast as you can, then slam the glass back down on the table."
"Won't that break the glass?" Sly asked.
"No, they're real tough." Murray explained. "Anyway, after you've done that you suck your lemon wedge. Ok?"
"I think so." Sly said uncertainly.
"I want it known on record that I think this is stupid." Bentley sighed.
"Ok. On three. One…two…three!"
As one, Sly, Bentley and Murray, licked the salt off their hands. Lips curled in distaste, they sank their tequila. Murray slammed first, followed by Sly then Bentley.
"Lemon!" Murray gasped. All three grabbed their wedges and sucked on them.
"That was cool!" Murray grinned, swallowing hard. "Whaddaya think, Sly?"
"That felt like being raped by a salty lemon." Sly managed to choke out.
"Dude. Not cool." Murray said. "How're you doin Bentley?"
Bentley nodded in their direction.
"Can't talk?" Sly enquired.
Bentley shook his head.
"Groovy. Shall I get us some more?" Murray asked. Bentley and Sly nodded.
The walk back to their apartment was a short but eventful one. Murray declared that Bentley and Sly were his bestest friends in the whole wide world, Sly thanked his friends for helping him somewhere in the region of thirty-six times, and both Sly and Murray got to see what tortoise sick looked like. By the end they were walking down the middle of the road in a line with Murray in the middle and Sly and Bentley on either side of him, leaning on each other for support. They had arrived in Paris, the destination that all three of them had been dreaming of since the day they met, and they had formed the gang that would eventually finish off Sly's old nemesis and reclaim the Thievius Raccoonus. They had clearly made their mark on the city of romance (in Bentley's case a little more than was needed), and for evermore they would regard it as their home.
"Say, do you guys know any songs?" Sly slurred as they walked down the street.