(A/N: Ok, Soory about taking so long. I went to SIX, count 'em, SIX summer camps, and then school started. BUT, I will let you all know that I have NOT abandoned this story. Not yet, not EVER! And so, to make it up to you fine, lovely readers who gave me all the nice reviews, and those of you who will in the future, I have extended this chapter to almost three-and-a-half THOUSAND words. So, read and enjoy! Oh, PS, there are three gunfights in here. Don't say I didn't warn you!)

Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

Paris, France

Old Warehouse District

11:20 am

Caroline.

She lay there on the floor of the warehouse, on top of broken glass, unconscious, since Marty's weight of two hundred and nineteen pounds had practically fallen on her at a speed of about seven or eight mph, which is pretty fast at a run.

Marty frowned, a snarl coming to his lips, for poking out of a pocket on Caroline's shirt was something gold. He knelt down and pulled it out, then blinked as he found himself clutching an Interpol badge.

He growled, muttering "I knew it."

Caroline was a cop.

Marty stuffed the badge back into her pocket and looked around. All six windows that had remained intact were now broken, with a small groove in the frame of the one he had dove through. The groove must've been where his bullet had gone when he fired his shot at it.

Although the revolver was empty, he held it at arm's length, down at his waist, and crept over towards the side of the window. After a second or two, he leapt out, clutching the gun in both hands, hoping to scare whoever it was.

But there was no one there.

Instead, Marty found a shotgun laying just outside the warehouse with blood on the stock and on the ground around it. Stepping over to it, he was about to pick it up when he saw something else; a small, Maltese cross, made of steel, painted a blood-red, was laying next to the gun. Slipping the revolver back into his pocket, Marty reached for the cross, cautiously, and turned it over. There was an S painted in green on the other side. That's when he cursed himself for a fool.

"Dammit!" he snarled, kicking the cross aside. "That's Shuker's calling card! He's after Caroline!"

Picking up the shotgun, Marty hurried back, making sure that no one had circled around to get to Caroline. She was still there, still alone, and still unconscious. Marty sighed, knowing that if he left her here, he'd have a heavy conscious, and never live with himself. If Shuker was hunting her, she'd never be safe.

Setting the shotgun down, he slid an arm beneath the knocked out canine, then lifted her up, onto his shoulder. She didn't weigh very much, at least, not to him, so it wasn't too difficult to support her there.

Pulling out his cell phone, he speed-dialed Bentley's binocucom, then listened as the shrill ringing reached his ear. After the second ring, Bentley answered.

"Marty! Oh, thank god you're alive! Julio and I are looking for you right now. You're ten minutes late! What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

Marty sighed, rolling his eyes. "Relax, mom, I ran into some, uh, difficulties. I'll explain it when I get back, just try and do without me."

He hung up before Bentley could protest, snapping the phone shut, sliding it into his pocket, then bending down, picking up the shotgun again, and going on his way. He'd have to stay in the shadows and avoid being seen carrying a cop. This was going to take a while.

Meanwhile, Across Town

11:25 am

Bentley scowled as he and Julio made their way back to the safe house. Marty obviously didn't know it, but he was a crucial part to two of the four plans they had made. The four rackets, a gambling den in a fish market, a drug dealer in a jewelry store, an explosives cache in a car dealership, and a weapons dealer in a butcher shop, all had coordinated strikes against each. Working together, the Cooper and McCoy gangs would take down each, until only the weapons racket was left. That place had high security in the form of about half a dozen shotgun packing bouncers. If they managed to get the explosives from the racket at the car dealership, they could simply get everyone out of the store at the bottom, then blow the place sky high without setting foot up there. Right about now, Sly and Murray were getting into position at the fish market…

Meanwhile, Across Town

11:32 am

And, indeed, they were, as Murray chugged through the streets and Sly leapt over the rooftops. The market they were looking for didn't really have a name, but they knew which one had the gambling den.

As Sly hit the street about ten feet away from the fish market's front, Murray came running up behind him, huffing at the effort. Sly pulled out his automatic pistol, checking the load and safety as Murray did the same with his shotgun. Once they were done, they nodded to each other. Now was the moment when the Cooper Gang became gunslingers.

Murray charged the door, knocking it down with ease, grinning at the satisfying crash as splinters flew. Sly rushed in behind him, pulling the trigger as he saw a frog in the corner pull a handgun out. A stream of bullet holes appeared, starting on the table where he had been sitting, continuing up, interrupting as they went over the amphibian's chest, sending splashes of red over his shirt and the table, then continuing up the wall a ways. Murray was already rapidly pumping lead into a flamingo and a duck as both pulled guns out. Sly whirled around, hearing the sound of a gun cocking, and saw the shop owner, a fat black bear, pulling a sawn-off double barreled shotgun out, aiming it at their backs. Sly yanked the trigger, sending the rest of the clip into the shop owner's chest, sending the bear crashing backwards into a display case, his finger jerking the trigger, causing the gun to blast a hole into the ceiling.

And then, just like that, it was over.

Sly and Murray stopped to catch their breath, looking around at the destruction they'd caused. The display case was crushed and shattered beneath the bear, whose apron was covered in his own blood. The frog in the corner lay slumped in his chair, his shirt and the table stained red. The flamingo's head was gone, blown off by Murray's shotgun, his neck pumping blood onto the floor. The duck hadn't fared much better. Half of his face was gone, and his chest had been blown open. Blood was everywhere.

As Murray and Sly took in this horrific scene, they were devastated. Who knew killing someone like this could feel this bad? There was emptiness. Murray had expected the usual feeling of triumph over his foes, but it wasn't the same as throwing a man off a cliff or into water, or into an electric fence; it felt worse. The Cooper Gang tried to avoid casualties as much as they could, but sometimes there was the guard who wouldn't give up, and would simply attack over and over again who simply needed to be put down. Well, the rules had been rewritten.

As Sly and Murray stood there, mulling it over, a French accent-laden voice shouted "Look what those bastards did!"

Sly and Murray looked up, for the voice had come from there. Another duck was looking through the hole in the ceiling, and judging from the thudding, there were more people up there too. Sly and Murray hurried for the stairs, taking them two at a time. This time, however, the door was locked and barricaded. Murray's method of fixing this was simple; put the shotgun up to the lock and pull the trigger. The lock was blown off, into the room, and Murray only had to kick the door to knock it open. At once, another storm of shooting broke out again, as one of the ducks kicked over a poker table for cover, and the other two scrambled behind it. The dealers had also pulled guns, while the gamblers were running out any way they could. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Sly pulled the trigger, only to hear the distinctive clack! which meant empty. While he reloaded, Murray fired rapidly, first blowing the table over, then blasting the three ducks, trying to aim low. When he ran out of ammo, however, he was open to the dealers, who all had magnum pistols. But before they could get off half a dozen shots together, Sly was waving his pistol around, holding the trigger. Blood spurted, cries of pain echoed, and guns roared as each found out where the bullets were coming from. Again, this lasted only a short time. Sly once more heard the distinctive clack! of an empty gun. Slowly, he lowered the pistol, then holstered it. There was no need for reloading now. Everyone, except him and Murray, was dead. Sly felt waves of nausea hit him hard, and he fought to hold down his lunch.

He succeeded, but Murray didn't. Instead, the hippo vomited all over the floor.

Meanwhile, Across Town

11:46 am

Penelope and Mikhail were getting into position to take the drug dealer's racket at the jewelry shop, but in a more casual way.

They walked.

Of course, they both wore knee-length overcoats to conceal their holstered weapons, but they were definantly doing things a lot more casual than Sly and Murray.

The door wasn't locked, so Mikhail opened it and they went inside. There were only two or three customers, but there was a beaver over in the corner wearing an overcoat similar to their own. One arm across his belly and the hand under his coat suggested a shotgun or a machine gun, while a bulge under his left armpit also suggested a handgun. The beaver was eyeing them suspiciously, but Mikhail casually walked over to one of the counters and began chatting with one of the cashiers, a hyena who was currently typing on a computer. As they talked, Penelope began to dread what was coming. How does one 'normally' kill a whole bunch of people and put a racket out of business, you might ask?

There is no 'normal' way.

They found this out when two flamingos charged downstairs, both hefting shotguns, and yelled "COOPER GANG!" then started blasting away. Mikhail and Penelope hit the ground, both pulling their guns, but some of the customers and cashiers weren't as lucky. The hyena took a load of buckshot in the chest and was blown backwards over the display case. As the flamingos reloaded, the beaver made his play, pulling out a sawn-off and firing that in one hand while drawing and firing the handgun with the other hand. When the sawn-off clicked, he simply threw it aside and kept up with the pistol, moving around until he was opposite of the flamingos, so they had a crossfire going over the display cases, which were assembled in a pentagon shape.

Suddenly, Mikhail and Penelope leapt up, back to back, guns out and blazing. Penelope snapped off all seven shots in her .45, only one hitting the beaver, but it was enough. The gangster crumpled like a wet paper bag. Mikhail's Glocks were held steady as he fired shot after shot into the flamingos, both of which were already dead on their feet. Finally, his guns clicked on empty, and the flamingos fell.

There was silence.

Penelope was wide-eyed, looking around at the destruction. Her eyes fell on the hyena, whose chest and belly had been blown open. She thought that was the worst of it.

Then she looked over at the beaver she'd shot; and retched.

The water mammal's face was frozen in a mask of shock and pain, his mouth stretched in a scream that had never come. Despair and devastation filled the little mouse, and she almost dropped her gun as she retched again. Sure, she had killed, but only once before. Now it was two men.

She fought to control her stomach as Mikhail simply reloaded and watched her. Then, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said "It's alright. It always happens after the first ones. After awhile, you get used to it, but you never enjoy it. Only a cold-blooded murderer actually enjoys killing."

Penelope swallowed with difficulty and nodded. Mikhail shrugged out of the overcoat, revealing the two ammo belts strapped across his waist. Marty had warned everyone that whenever shooting started in a firefight, it was difficult to stop until you had to reload. Mikhail suffered this almost all the time, and went through more ammunition than Marty and Julio.

Making his way for the stairs, Mikhail cocked his pistols, ready to blast down whatever got in his way. When no one did, Penelope followed him to the door at the top. As soon as they were on either side of it, Mikhail kicked out against the wood. While the strike might not have been as effective as if Marty had done so, it had the same outcome. The door flew open, and there was a split second of silence. Then, the door hit the wall. There was only the drug dealer, a dirty looking mole sitting at a desk, and a few gunmen, but a few is enough. Mikhail fired shot after shot, switching from target to target while Penelope managed to get around the shooting and knock the drug dealer out with the handle of her pistol. Then, it was over. The gunmen, a frog, a duck and a flamingo, all had enough holes in them to look like cheese graters, albeit, cheese graters pouring blood out of still warm chests. Penelope rummaged through the mole's goods and desk while Mikhail began tying him up, then hastily scrawling a note in French and pinning it to the drug dealer's jacket.

"Not much," muttered Penelope, holding up a few crumpled bills. "He had close to a hundred American dollars, but aside from that, all I could find were a lot of drugs."

"Then let's get out of here," said Mikhail, reloading as he spoke. "We don't want to be here when the police come to investigate.

Meanwhile, Twelve Blocks Away

11:51 am

Bentley and Julio had finished with their disguises, walking into the car dealership with Shuker's hidden explosive stash. They had needed to come up with a different plan, since Marty wouldn't be coming along, and they found one almost immediately.

The wolverine and turtle exchanged one last look, a nod, and then split up. Julio headed over to the only salesman around, a badger reading the newspaper. As he did so, he glanced at the headline and grimaced. There were two articles taking up the front page; one headline read Warehouse Explosion Outside Berlin! Many Casualties! McCoy Gang Suspected! Great. The police and newspapers had already linked the raid on Wilco's hub to them. They were getting faster. He had to give them more credit. The other headline was even worse. It screamed Interpol Officers Vanished Outside Berlin! Coincidence?

Gritting his teeth, Julio stepped up and said, in French, "Excuse, monsieur, I was at first curious about purchasing a car, but that newspaper has me interested. May I see it, please?"

The badger nodded, then went off to find his sales clipboard, which, presently, was being slipped into Julio's pocket by the wolverine himself. While Julio distracted him, Bentley would be breaking into the manager's office to find the explosive-filled safe. The manager was currently out on lunch break. Julio's eyes started skimming through the first story, and he did not like what he saw.

Only a few days ago, an explosion was heard by a few patrolling officers outside of West Berlin, Germany. The officers rushed to find that a warehouse belonging to Wilco Shipping Inc. had been destroyed. Wilco and six other men have gone missing. "Undoubtedly," said Corporal Romulus Shultz, "This is the work of the McCoy Gang. They were sighted in West Berlin no less than two days ago, buying a boat. This is also their style. We've had suspicions that Wilco was shipping to gangs across Europe, but we never had any proof. The McCoy Gang always targets these sorts of people."

Julio flicked his eyes to the other story, since the rest probably explained who the McCoy Gang were, blah, blah, blah.

The other story read On the same night as the explosion outside of Berlin, two officers from Interpol, Inspector Carmelita Fox and Constable Sly Cooper, went missing, coincidentally, right outside Berlin. After some questioning, we found out that they were going on a raid to arrest Jack Wilco, Owner of Wilco Shipping Inc. and suspected smuggler and racketeer. It has been about two weeks, and not a word has been heard from either one. Interpol is offering a five thousand American dollar reward for any information of either officer's fate.

Julio put down the newspaper right then, pondering. With two 'missing' officers in tow, it would make getting around the world a hell of a lot harder. They'd need fake identities and such, but that wasn't the hassle; it was their appearance that would pose the problem.

As he stood there, lost in thought, Bentley wheeled over, a small bulge in the jacket over his chest. Tapping the wolverine on the shoulder, the turtle jerked his head in the direction of the door. Julio nodded and followed, tossing the badger's clipboard into a car as he passed it.

Back in the manager's office, however, a small beeping sound could be heard. Back in the safe, Bentley had armed and placed a small time bomb that Julio had given him, set to explode in 30 seconds.

Now 20.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5-

Suddenly the door opened, and the badger walked in, muttering about his clipboard. He walked around the desk, hearing the beeping too late, but seeing the bomb on time. His eyes widened as the timer clicked to 2, 1.

"Son of a-"

He never got it out.

The office exploded into a ball of fire, knocking two or three cars into the display windows, sending one more through the door. As it finished rolling, crumpled and smashed, it stopped next to two coats, a fake beard, and a detonator switch with two buttons.

Meanwhile, Back at the Safe House

11:59 am

Marty opened the door to find Inspector Fox sitting in an armchair in front of the TV, exactly how Sly had placed her. Her good hand was holding a remote as she flicked through the channels, a bored look on her face.

Sighing, he repositioned Caroline, who had been slowly slipping off for the past five minutes, back onto his shoulder, then used his foot to close the door behind him, since he was still carrying the shotgun, muttering "Honey, I'm home."

Carmelita didn't even look at him, saying "Yeah, yeah, whatever, thug."

Marty just rolled his eyes and made for the stairs into the lab, when Carmelita, looking over at him, asked "Shouldn't you be with the oth-"

The words died in her throat as she saw the canine on his shoulder and the shotgun in his hand. Her mouth fell open as she recognized said canine.

Slowly, she asked "Did you kidnap the chief's niece?"

Marty sighed and said "It's a long story. I'll tell you when I get back."

He then continued on his way downstairs. Carmelita sat back, pondering. What the hell was Marty doing with Lieutenant Newkirk? Was he working against two forces? What the hell was going on?

As she thought about the situation, Guru was watching her, doing some thinking of his own. Finally, he stood up and walked over, holding his walking staff loosely in his hand. Carmelita looked back towards the TV and started at the sight of the koala standing in front of her. As soon as she looked up, Guru had begun speaking, and Carmelita blinked, even more confused.

Finally, he seemed to have finished, and she said, hesitantly, "I-I can't understand you."

Sighing, Guru looked around, until his eyes fell on some bloodied bandages that Bentley had apparently missed. An idea struck him, and he leaned his staff against the TV, retrieved the bandages, and returned, holding them up for the Inspector to see. He pointed, first at himself, then at the bandages, then at his staff, and finally at her broken legs and arm, then ran in place for a few seconds.

The message was clear, and not lost on the vixen; I can heal you fast.

Carmelita smiled and said, excited "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? And what the hell are you waiting for, work your magic!"