RIGHT AND LAW

Job 8: Teams Work

Quick overview, people: while we were having fun with Sly, Bentley set his RC Car down and drove it under the laser bars of his cell. He went through the hallways and into the ventilation system, dodging laser security and fans. He even drove through the same laser-filled hallway Sly inched along, his back pressed to the wall; if Sly had looked down, in fact, he may have seen the car.

I'm sure that, were this a game people could play instead of reading, it would've been great fun and a nice challenge. But you'll need to imagine it for yourselves, cause we've got more interesting things to do!

Bentley pulls out his binoc-u-com... and he's not the only one. It looks like he's talking to both Sly and Carmelita. "Finally!" Bentley says. "I was starting to think I'd never locate Carmelita. Sly, what are you doing down here?"

"The water tunnel let out not too far away," Sly says. "Penelope says she's cut off; with the amount of metal around—"

"I know," Bentley says. "But now that we know what the problem is, there should be a workaround. If I can get my grapple-cam closer to use it, I should be able to use it to relay the signal. Unfortunately, I'm a little... stuck."

"Stuck?" asks Sly.

Bentley grimaces. "I can't get through these lasers, and there's nothing here to hack. However, based on my analysis of the outside of this cell, there are three different keys needed to open the cells, as well as two locks that'll have to be cracked by hand."

"You have your computer; can you give me some waypoints? Or else I'll be wandering around down here forever."

"Already been done," he says.

"There aren't any locks on my cell," says Carmelita.

"Can you climb up the slide behind you?" Sly asks.

She shakes her head. "Too steep. I just slide back down."

"Once I've made contact with the surface, I'll be able to, um, direct Penelope to the spot where the trapdoor was hidden," Bentley says. He tugs at his bow tie. "If I give her access to my explosives, she'll be able to send the RC Chopper down to drag you back up. Then we can see about... dismantling Dr. Foxworthy's plan."

"All right, it sounds like we have a plan," Sly says.

Bentley tucks his binoc-u-com away. There's not much of a gap between the lasers serving as bars, but there's enough for him to toss his grapple-cam. The fools holding him haven't even been in to check on him, much less confiscate any of his stuff; from what he's overheard from guards, they think that, because he's in a wheelchair, he's harmless.

Oh, how foolish they are.

Still, it means no one bothers him as he manuevers the grapple-cam around. Getting the grapple-cam through doors requires opening them, which the grapple-cam can't do... but if he yells enough, someone always opens the door to see what the problem is.

Provided none of them shoot the cam, he's fine.

Navigating the maze of corridors and lasers is a challenge, even so, and it takes some time to find a ladder leading to a trapdoor. Once he's up there, he finds an unobtrusive part of the ceiling and takes a deep breath. "Penelope, Penelope, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Bentley!" Penelope sounds just like she did the first time they spoke. "I was starting to get worried about you."

"Are you all right, chum?" asks Murray.

"I'm fine," Bentley says. "We're in a bit of a... situation, though. Carmelita and I are in separate cells. Sly's going to bust me out, but we're going to need some assistance to help Carmelita."

With the flash of a LOADING screen, the scene changes. Sly's somewhere else entirely, in the doorway of a large room with many, many cops inside. He pulls out his binoc-u-com. "Are you sure the ones with the keys are here, Bentley?"

"Positive," Bentley says, and as he speaks waypoints spring up on cops scattered around the room.

"This is going to be tough, pal," Sly murmurs. "I don't know if I can even get in there without someone seeing me."

"So let them see you," Bentley says. "You still have your cop uniform, right? Put that on, and you'll fit right in. They're using the same passwords here as in Holland."

"Sounds good," says Sly. "I'll have to keep it on even when I pickpocket."

"Just don't get caught pickpocketing, that's a bit harder to explain," Bentley says.

"Of course," Sly says. "And just to make sure I don't get caught, I'm going to use my—"

"DON'T!"

"—Ita'lian ac-acent!"

Bentley's groans and dispirited muttering can be heard even after Sly puts his binoc-u-com away. He changes into his cop uniform at once, though he gets rid of the name badge and other items identifying him as Constable Cooper. Once Sly's moving, though, Bentley comes in with one more piece of advice: "If any of them seem talkative, try to get more information. Dr. Foxworthy said he had several complete robots already. If you can figure out where they are, we can disable them."

Sounds like a plan. Sly steps into the room, and the other cops glance at him, then away; it seems no one particularly cares to do password checks all the time. Thaddeus would call them sloppy. But Sly is rather relieved.

There are at least a dozen cops in this room, mostly foxes, with fur in all sorts of colors. There's a small counter along one wall, with drinks and snacks laid out; comfortable chairs and low tables make it evident that this is some sort of oversized break room. A hum of conversation drowns out the background music as the various illegal cops mingle, sitting or standing, pausing to chat with each other, eating popcorn or refilling their drinks. There seems to be a trivia contest going on in the corner, too.

All three of the guards Sly wants to pickpocket are meandering around the room. Terrific. "Get the keys first, Sly," Bentley reminds him.

It takes a while. Sure, no one cares that he's there, but they will if they notice what he's doing. And even though there are only three guards with keys, everyone in the room has a shiny pocket full of valuables. Timing his picks so no one's looking takes patience and skill.

Once every pocket in the room is emptied (not a bad haul, either, between the shock grenades and the platinum pick-proof handcuffs), Sly turns his attention to gathering information.

"Hey-uh, what's-uh goin on-uh?"

Of course, his Italian accent is so bad he is immediately password-checked eight times (there are only three passwords!). Seriously, Sly, did you have to do that?

Once he's passed, though, everyone turns back to what they're doing. Sly has to ask again to get a response. "We're playing history trivia, stripe-butt," growls one fox.

"I love-uh historia," Sly lies. If he has any problems, Bentley's right there. "Wanna maka a wager? I'd-uh love-uh to see those-uh complete robots close-uh up. And-uh you know how the boss-uh is."

Blue fox snorts. "He thinks if everyone knows something'll go wrong. Well, I know." He offers Sly his paw. "If I win, you have to take my volcano shift tomorrow." He grins nastily at Sly, his tail waving behind him. "Still wanna make your stupid wager?"

"Of-uh course!"

With an on-screen countdown, the first question is asked. Answers are linked to buttons, multiple choice style. Question 1: Which of our bosses' lackeys was working in the Caribbean? Triangle, Rajan. Circle, Tsao. X, The Grizz. Square, Dimitri.

...You know, I'm not going to come up with the rest of the questions. There are five of them. And they're about as 'historical' as Sly is.

"Dang," mutters the fox when he loses, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose I owe ya. The truth is, though, none of us get ta' look at those finished bots. The boss keeps 'em with his so-called 'time machines', and he's the only one who knows how to get there."

"What?" Sly asks, forgetting his accent, then corrects himself. "No-a one?"

"No one," he says with relish. "It's a secret. But he always goes to check on them after there's been an alarm and we've secured the area. Next time there's a false alarm, feel free to try to follow him."

Sly smiles. "If it's-uh not-uh my shift, I will," he says. "I'll-uh talk to-uh you all-uh later."

JOB COMPLETE