FIENDS FROM THE PAST
Job 5: Captive Cavern
Sly climbs around behind the island and balances on some rocks there while he pulls out his binoc-u-com. "Please say you don't want me to check every cave back here," he says, focusing on the well-covered cliff face. "It would take me all night just to get inside all of them. No way could I look around."
"You don't have to." Bentley adjusts his glasses. "Murray's informant mentioned some resistance from people on nearby islands who came to investigate. They're being held in that cave." A way point appears, pointing to an opening about halfway up. "We can't tell anyone we're from the future, of course, but we can certainly free anyone wrongfully imprisoned. And maybe they'll have some information for us."
"That sounds good to me." Sly puts his binoc-u-com away and starts making his way up the cliff. It's hard to get to the specific cave he wants, almost as hard, maybe harder, than it was to get to the top to begin with. There's no clear path to the cave, so he finds himself climbing to higher locations and trying to paraglide down; he can't throw wall-hooks close enough to make a difference, not when he's hanging off others just to get close.
Several impolite thoughts later, Sly's made it into the cave. He takes a moment to brush off his hat before going past the entryway. It's almost black in there, and he feels his way ahead with his cane as it goes forward, turns a corner, and lights up all at once. Spotlights light the way, moving at fixed intervals, the only light source something that has to be dodged around to continue.
Not a problem. Sly's been doing this for years.
Past the spotlights come laser security. The glow of the lasers illuminates a straight path, the lasers themselves a complicated mess of obstacles that would be a nightmare to traverse. Good thing they don't quite reach the floor. Granted, Sly has to press his ears against his head and keep his tail as low as it'll go, but he's crawled on his belly more than once in the past.
And this is cleaner than Jean Bison's sawmill, too.
Once he's through, the hall twists a little, purple candles lighting the way, standing tall and true by the walls. They lead him to a very sturdy heavy metal door, dented towards him in a dozen places as though someone were trying to break through it, and almost succeeding. Next to the door is a computer, keeping it locked and closed.
Mounted over the door, waiting for someone to notice it, is a large stone cane.
Sly stares at it. "Bentley?" he says. "Are you seeing this?"
"I am." Bentley sounds much calmer than Sly. "Better let me hack the door before you take it down; it looks heavy. If you drop it, it could break the computer, and then there's no way we'd get that door open."
Sly nods, but doesn't respond out loud. He digs into a pocket and pulls out the remote hacking device, slaps it on the computer.
Bentley doesn't need any encouragement to get to work.
"Hello, Bentley."
Not that he doesn't get some. Every computer he hacks, every job they do, is one step closer to finding Penelope. Boy, does he have questions for her. Questions like 'Why are there people going back in time again?' Like 'Why is everyone we've encountered an enemy we faced before?' Like... 'Would you have betrayed us if you had a choice?'
"You should be more careful, Bentley."
But speculating about it isn't going to help anyone, or anything. It just serves as a distraction.
No use fretting about it, though. This job calls for his panzer code. Brute force isn't often the way to go with Penelope's security, but right now it's about the only thing that'll work.
"Get what you need and leave, Bentley," Penelope urges him through the computer.
Bentley raises his eyebrows. Does he really think he'll leave when the others are here? Or does she want them all to leave? Or is this just another trick?
There are too many possibilities, and switching back and forth between panzer and shell code as he takes down coded walls and unlocks databases leaves no time for debate.
"Make sure you watch the skies," it warns when he finishes.
Bentley heaves a sigh of relief. "Okay Sly, the door should be opening now." As he speaks, the door slides seamlessly upwards, vanishing into the top of the doorway.
Sly doesn't hesitate a moment before jumping up and pulling the massive stone cane off the wall... and promptly dropping it. The floor cracks. "Oof, this weighs a ton."
"Maybe you should leave it, pick it up on your way out?"
"That's not happening." Sly picks the thing up, cautiously this time, and ties it to his back. "I won't be able to run or double jump while carrying this thing, but I can't leave it behind. It might be needed."
Bentley sighs, but doesn't protest as Sly creeps through the door. More spotlights and laser security wait for him there; with his movement impeded, he has to time his actions more carefully to avoid being seen. It's all very exciting. Only years of training in being quiet while on a job keeps him from laughing about it all.
When he's past it, he's glad he was quiet. The tunnel opens up into a large room, with purple candles scattered throughout. Vampire terriers patrol throughout, keeping an eye on everything. In the center, surrounded by a purple-glowing force field, stands a raccoon. Tall and heavily muscled, this guy looks like he could bench press Murray. He's shirtless, probably because he can't get a shirt to fit over his immense arm muscles; the opposite of Murray's pants problem. A long sash goes over one shoulder, like a single suspender, with a raccoon mask hooked to it midway up his chest. The sash seems to be holding up his kilt. His hat, or helmet, or whatever, leaves his large ears free but dangles in the back.
Slaigh MacCooper, strongest of the Cooper Clan, locks eyes with Sly from across the room and smirks, crossing his arms. He jerks his head as though to ask, 'What are you waiting for?'
Sly blinks, then uses his hands to sketch an outline of the force field around Slaigh.
Slaigh rolls his eyes, bares his teeth, and points to the nearest candle.
All right then.
Keeping out of sight in a room empty of all but guards and candles as he puts out said candles takes finesse. It takes skill. It takes Slaigh tapping his foot and heaving heavy sighs at how long this is taking. Sly's cheeks burn. Okay, he may be moving slower than usual, but he's carrying Slaigh's cane! And he's rescuing the guy. You think he'd get some slack.
At least none of the guards have noticed he's there by the time the last candle is blown out. Slaigh grins outright and lets loose a battle yell.
Every guard in the room turns towards him. He grins a very nasty smile and says, "I'll give ye all one chance to run."
The stampede of fleeing guards nearly flattens Sly. He lets them go. "Uh, hi. We haven't met, but—"
"Oy, lad. Ye must be Sli Cooper." Slaigh speaks with an accent, altering Sly's name to sound more like his own.
"Right. And you're Slaigh MacCooper, aren't you?" Sly grins. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."
Sly holds out his hand, only to be swept up in a bone-crushing hug to rival one of Murray's. "It's always a pleasure to meet family, me lad," says Slaigh, as Sly's feet dangle and he sees stars. "And ye did a fine bit of work there, once ye got started. But a bit slow about it, weren't ye?"
"I... uh.." Sly manages to squeeze out.
"Still, a fine job of it all." Slaigh sets him down at last, and Sly wheezes in air. "So the howlin' bampot that built this tower's one o' ye's enemies?"
"Probably," Sly says. "We haven't actually seen them yet."
"Ye haven't actually—what in the blue blazes has yer lot been doing?" The big man cries. "Sitting on yer bums in the meadow?"
"Uh..." It's not often we see Sly speechless, but boy, is he here. "I got your cane."
"Well, thanks fer small favors." Sly takes the cane off his back and Slaigh hoists it one-handed. "Don't get me wrong, me lad, you've done a fine job, but..." Slaigh swings his cane over one shoulder. "Ach, I suppose none of us be perfect. Lead on, lad; there must be places for us to be."
"...Right."
JOB COMPLETE
Sly starts a victory pose, but Slaigh walks by, hooks the back of Sly's shirt with his cane—maybe by accident—and tows him off.