Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Cooper franchise or characters. I'm just a huge fand, and a geek.

And thanks to Kickhopper, for my first review. I'm super happy you're enjoying it. Bentley won't always be the narrator, but he's always taken over in Sly's absence (game 2, end of area 3/start of area 4, and the end of game 3) and feels like a fitting choice.

Onwards!

INTERLUDE: HAZARD ROOM.

"All right, Carmelita, this is the hazard room." Bentley wheels his way into a large empty space, about the size of a football field, with white padded walls and floors and a ceiling that stretches into infinity. A handful of switches line the wall, several already in the 'down' position, color-coded in blue, pink, and green; only the orange ones are all upright. "We've got a couple of them established in our safe-houses around the world. Before anyone takes on a big job, they spend some time in here making sure they're fighting fit."

"And you want me to do this stuff?" Carmelita shrugs, holding her pistol over one shoulder. "I eat criminals for breakfast; there's no way I need-"

"Since Sly disappeared, you've taken out eighty-seven organized crime rings and averaged three criminals per day, of the 'international fugitive' tier," Bentley interrupts, "but you haven't laid a finger on the sort of people we go after."

Carmelita gestures angrily with her pistol. "I hardly think I need the help of a gang of thieves to—"

"Sure you don't. But you've made all the busts of your career chasing after us, because we like to rob the guys that get you promotions." Bentley shrugs. "And I fully admit, getting you to take out Muggshot back in Holland was a vital part of the plan, since none of us wanted to deal with him."

"That was—you little—ohhhhhhh I am going to ring Sly's scrawny neck when I see him."

Bentley adjusts his glasses. "Uh-huh. In any case, we want you in top condition, and we want to know it. So we're not going anywhere until you've completed the exercises I've laid out for you."

With that, Bentley wheels himself back out through the door, and Carmelita's left standing alone in the room.

She pulls the first switch, and a large platform drops from the ceiling. She jumps onto it, and a floor-mounted force field generator starts up. "Not bad," she says, bending over to investigate it. "I've never seen one like this before."

"It's my own design," says Bentley, his voice crackling with static over the intercom. "Now pay attention. Everyone in the gang has their strengths, and even if you're just a... temporary, law-abiding member, you need to play to yours. Before that, you need to learn the basic tools."

"I've been a cop for years. I know what to do."

"Our tools, not yours. We'll start with the mask."

"This thing?" Carmelita asks, hoisting the orange mask they gave her. "Unlike you criminals, I have no need to hide my identity."

"That's not its only use. Put it on. We can talk without the intercom then."

"I feel ridiculous," Carmelita says, pulling the mask on.

Bentley's voice changes to the typical echoey-whisper. "Perfect. All our masks serve several purposes: as long as you have it on, we'll be able to communicate. It's far more secure than most earpieces."

Carmelita growls. "So this is how you kept getting things past Interpol! We've been wondering where your earbuds are—"

"And I can hear you if you want; there's a trigger in all our gloves that lets us talk to each other. I've fixed your pair with some. Better, I can project holographic markers—way points—into your mask. Try pressing down on the L3 button—you know, the left analog stick—to bring them up. I'm projecting some now; let's just try this out."

Carmelita does so and finds a large orange arrow pointing down at the opposite edge of the platform. She grumbles the entire time she walks to it, and the other two Bentley projects, about what she was going to tell Interpol.

"Okay, great. Bring out the binoc-u-com I gave you by pressing the R3 button—you know, pressing down on the right analog stick. That's another piece of essential technology."

"They're binoculars," she grumbles, putting them to her face. "They're—wait, video imaging?"

"Yep," says Bentley. "It comes in handy. If you press the R1 button while in this mode, you can take pictures—useful for uncertain situations. They'll be automatically sent to my computer. I'm going to send in something for you to take a picture of; give it a try." With that, Bentley lowers a framed crayon drawing of Murray's down on a rope. "Try zooming in and out with the right analog stick to get a good shot."

"This is a waste of time," grumbles Carmelita, doing as he asked.

"Perfect. All right Carmelita, you've passed the basics."

"Can I take off this mask now?" she demands. "I look like an idiot."

"No. It's an essential piece of equipment!"

"You don't wear one of these stupid things," she says, watching the force-field generator turn off and jumping to the floor; the platform she was on is raised back into the air.

"It's in my helmet."

With that over, Carmelita stalks to the second switch and pushes it. Several large piles of crates and boxes thud to the ground around the room. "Okay Carmelita, this is more for my sake than yours. Every member of the gang moves a bit differently, but usually I'm a bit... busy... and can't pay attention."

"You mean you're dodging my shots?"

"Or telling Sly to, yeah. But I do have a basic idea of what you can do. We'll start with jumping. Press the X button to jump; then, while in the air, press it again to do an extra-high double jump. I'm projecting way points onto several boxes; try jumping from box to box without touching the ground."

"I can't believe you're making me do this," she says as she jumps.

"You complain more than anyone else does during this."

"What, you even make Sly do these stupid jumps?"

"Yes," says Bentley. He raises all the crates but the one she's on into the air, activates the force field, and dumps a pile of crates in front of her. "Unlike Sly, you don't climb or crawl, but you've got a mega-jump."

"It's easy, I just tap the circle button to go three times as high. If I get a running start, I can go much, much further as well." Carmelita shakes her head. "This is worse than officer training."

"Can you double jump after that?"

"Of course. But I can't do it too many times in a row, it's tiring and uses my gadget meter."

"All right. Let's put that to the test."

And so Carmelita does a lot of high and far jumping, proving very well why she keeps up with Sly. Her sneaking abilities may be... sub-par, but Bentley watches and makes notes. If they don't find Sly, she should be able to get to any high places he'd need to climb to—and if they do, knowing the cop's abilities better can't be a bad thing.

"All right, it appears your maneuverability is beyond my expectations." Bentley yanks up most of the wooden structures.

"Does that mean I'm done with this?" asks Carmelita.

"No." Bentley drops down several more crates and boxes to prove his point. "You've proven an adequate fighter in the past. That shock pistol of yours is dangerous."

She spins it in one hand. "Thanks. I especially likes how it can incapacitate even the hardest criminals with just a few blows, but doesn't cause lasting damage."

"The hardest criminals?" asks Bentley. "Are we in that category?"

"Yes." Carmelita spins the pistol again. "I've won Interpol's annual shooting competition five years running. They don't call me 'crackshot' for nothing."

"Really?" asks Bentley. "You always seem to have a hard time hitting Sly."

"Can it, turtle."

"Fine. Take out those boxes, then."

"Easy, I just tap the triangle button to shoot whatever's in front of me."

And so Carmelita kills some boxes. Those poor boxes...

"All right, you seem to be adequate at hitting opponents on the same level as you," says Bentley, "but what about moving targets?" A conveyor belt of some sort is dropped from the ceiling, another box on it. "Try taking that out."

"With the gun's automatic aim correction, all I have to do is press the triangle button and make sure it's the closest target." And so the box destruction continues.

The poor, poor boxes.

"All right, it seems you're pretty good at hitting opponents on your own level. But what about those above and below you?" He lowers several items of furniture on ropes from the ceiling, and drops more boxes to the ground below her. "Shoot those, why don't you."

"Do you think you're giving me a challenge?" demands Carmelita. "I just hold the triangle button to bring up the aiming sights, then fire when I release it."

I think I need to make a statue to honor the boxes that gave their lives for this.

"Okay, I give. You've proven you know your way around a shock pistol."

"You really should've thought up something harder, Bentley."

"How about opponents up close?" Bentley drops a scarecrow in front of Carmelita. "Can you beat that without shooting it?"

"Of course. I just press the square button to give things a roundhouse kick. It knocks even the so-called toughest criminal to their knees."

"Right. Beat up that guy."

Which Carmelita does. With gusto. I need to apologize to scarecrows, now.

"All right, that's it. You've passed. I'm convinced you can move around and do whatever we need you to do without too much difficulty."

"Good. Then I'm taking this stupid—"

"Leave the mask on. Besides, we're going back in time. It may help you blend in."

JOB COMPLETE

We're all done with the hazard room (for now). Please ignore the echoes from Carmelita's shrieks of rage.