(A/N: Attention! I have a few announcements to make! First off, to answer Heid's question in the review, only two innocents died; the hyena cashier in the jewel shop and badger in the dealership. Everyone else worked for Shuker. Secondly, if you all will check out my profile, I have posted to sneak peeks there, as well as a date when they will be updated, up until this fic is finished. Now...on with the show!)

Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

Paris, France

12:16 pm

Sly pulled a key out of his pocket, still sullen about today's events. Murray was right behind him, staring into space. Both of their guns were empty, and neither had taken the time to reload. Neither really wanted to.

The key scraped in the lock as the door opened. Strange, but the safe house seemed to be empty, almost devoid of life. As Sly stepped through the door, his eyes watching for movement, something grabbed his shirt and pulled his to the side. Before he could do anything, a pair of lips suddenly pressed themselves to his own. The funny thing was, these lips seemed familiar…

"Carmelita!" he said, or would've said, if her mouth currently wasn't crushing his. Finally, she pulled back, allowing Sly to take a breath, which he did in the spectacular way of gasping before swallowing it down.

Carmelita had a crafty grin on her face as she laughed and said "C'mon Cooper, don't tell me you're already out of practice!"

Sly looked the vixen up and down, eyebrows raised so high they were in danger of disappearing into his hat. She was standing, she'd grabbed him with the left hand; it was as if she'd never broken those limbs.

"Wha- How?"

And then it clicked.

"Guru." He said, blinking.

As if it was a summon, the koala stepped out from behind Carmelita, smiling smugly.

Carmelita laughed again and said "I couldn't understand him at first. Then he got it through to me that he could heal me. Came at a price though; him me are both extremely exhausted. We're probably going to die just standing here, talking to you."

Sly grinned and shook his head in disbelief.

"So, how was the raid? Or should I say, job?"

Sly's grin slowly slid off his face as he looked away, muttering "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Goes double for me," said Murray, releasing the shotgun strapped to his back as well as the ammo belts, lowering them to the floor. "I need a drink," The hippo muttered, heading for the kitchen. Guru, looking extremely concerned, followed.

Carmelita instantly sobered up. She'd seen this before with new recruits after raids.

"You had to kill someone, huh?" she asked, softly.

Sly put his head against the window next to the door, which was still open.

Closing it with his leg, Sly sighed, then said "Six men. They were all like me. They were probably only doing it for money. Dammit, Carmelita, I've never even handled a gun before and I've already killed SIX MEN. How many more will I kill when I better learn how to use it?"

Carmelita placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, saying "I felt the same way when I killed my first lawbreaker. I wanted to quit the force immediately. It happens to everyone, Sly. Every person who handles a gun and uses it with lethal force will feel like just taking that gun, shoving under their jaw and pulling the trigger. Don't worry. You'll get over it."

Sly nodded, standing up straight again and looking the vixen in the eye. Sighing again, he smiled, weakly, and said "This day can't get any worse."

Carmelita immediately became uneasy. It was a full minute before she replied "Well, that depends on your opinion. You see, Marty came back about twenty minutes ago…"

Meanwhile, Downstairs

12:21 pm

Caroline's whole body ached as she came around. Except her head. For some reason, her head felt ok. She groaned slightly, and something wet pressed itself against her temple, gently dabbing the area around there, which was throbbing, dully. She opened her eyes slightly to find herself staring into a set of forest green ones, concern etched in them.

She had a hard time recognizing the eyes, but not the face framing them.

"You!" she snarled, lashing out at McCoy.

He leapt back, dropping the wet rag he had been sponging the bruise on her temple with, and took up a defensive position. Caroline leapt off the cot she'd been laying on, swinging a roundhouse kick. Before the blow could connect, however, McCoy had grabbed her leg, swung her up like a doll, and brought her back down into the cot.

Before she could react, however, he had leapt on top of her, pinning her down. Caroline struggled before she realized that something was sticking to her side. At that time, the pain hit her, and she stopped moving, grimacing. The only thing she could do without hurting herself was look at McCoy. He had taken off his jacket, and there were a few splotches of blood on his shirt, which was also soaked with sweat. It was only then that she noticed how hot the room was. Obviously, there was no air conditioner. She felt an eddy of hot air blow across her stomach, and she frowned, looking down briefly. She immediately turned red when she realized that her shirt had been unbuttoned, and now lay open. Although her bra was still undisturbed, she was very, very uncomfortable to have this much of her exposed, as well as having an unpredictable man on top of her this way.

Glaring back up at McCoy, she seethed and spit in his face, growling as she snarled "Bastard!"

McCoy didn't respond, just stared at her. Finally, he got off her and moved to pick up the rag again, so as to wipe his face of the spittle. Caroline tried to move her arms to close her shirt, intending to wait out the pain before attacking, when a stab of something that felt like a white hot poker lashed through her side, and she cried out, briefly. It was then that she noticed that most of her side was bandaged. Shifting slightly, she found that her back was also bandaged. What was going on?

Then HE spoke.

"You're lucky you didn't try to run. If you'd have fallen forwards, not only would you have gotten glass in your chest, but I'd have been forced to take that strap off your chest to get at it."

Oh, God, now he was pointing at her bra. She reddened, slightly, still glaring at him.

Finally, through clenched teeth, she snarled "And just what are you doing to me, you lying, murdering bastard?"

McCoy simply shrugged off the insult as he said "Well, gee, I dunno. You seemed to have several shards of glass in your side and back, and you seemed to be bleeding, so I just decided to save your live for kicks. Hope I didn't take any of the fun out of it for you."

She blinked, briefly, before coming to the conclusion that the blood on McCoy's shirt wasn't his own-although, God willing, she wished it was, since it would've meant he'd have gotten an injury-but HER blood. Then another thought hit her.

"Are you a doctor or something?"

She was actually more concerned for herself, for if he didn't know medicine…she'd rather not think about it.

McCoy chuckled, although there was nothing funny about the situation, and replied "Actually, that's what I was hoping to become. I went to college in Stalingrad, trying to get a degree, when I met Mikhail. Next thing you know, we're off looking for a sniper and we meet Julio in Lisbon. Then we're off bombing hubs and shooting those who're in charge. This vengeance trail sure has a lotta bumps and detours."

Caroline's eyebrows shot up as she heard this. McCoy must've seen the look on her face, because he chuckled again before continuing. Marty was desperate to keep this woman on her cot so that she not only wouldn't try to attack him, but also stopping her from opening her wounds again. He was starting to run out of bandages, silk thread for stitches, and disinfectant. So, he decided to tell the one story almost no one had heard; his past.

And so he began. "You might have heard of a Don Jonathon McCoy, ruling a part of Naples, Italy, right?"

When she nodded, he sat down in a chair next to the cot, which was his own (better not to get blood on Julio or Mikhail's cots) and continued.

"He was my father. Now, Julio has hacked into the Interpol files and found that his body was found in an alley next to a burning bakery, filled with lead. Since he was a gangster, the police didn't try too hard to figure out what happened, and eventually just marked him down as a drive-by victim. Only that's exactly the OPPOSITE of what happened. Both my mother and father were mercilessly killed by three heartless bastards; the Shuker brothers were the ones who pulled the triggers, but it was Don Taloreso who paid them to. He's the one I want. I grew up with my father's friend, Don Leo Cordasco. However, he couldn't take care of me. He'd never had any children, and he didn't know how the hell to take care of one. So, with many regrets, he sent me off to school in Russia. First, it was Moscow. My Junior High and High school grades in standard subjects there were all about average, but my foreign language grades soared. I learned fluent Russian, better English, broken French, German, and even Swahili. I even managed to skip a grade. All that time, I was in a secret bloodlust. I wanted the Shukers and Taloreso dead, all of 'em, and I didn't care how many men I had to go through to do it. After High school, however, I heard of how Taloreso had expanded his empire. The Shukers, both still working for him, had control of Paris and London; he had taken almost all of northern Italy, and also had control of various cities in different countries around Europe. Norway, Sweden, Greece, Spain, and God knows where else. He could get anyone in Europe dead like that."

At this, Marty snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"My dream of revenge seemed like just that; a dream. I couldn't face an army. So, I decided to go to college, try to build a good life. However, fate dealt me a hand that I couldn't put down; I met Mikhail after about two months. He and I both seemed interested enough in guns, and he seemed trustworthy, so I told him the story I'm telling you. And he joined with me. Now, my dream was starting to become a reality. We managed to torch one or two hubs before we realized we still needed two more crucial ingredients; a marksman and a demolitions expert. We looked all over Europe, until we finally came across both; we found Julio in Lisbon, Portugal. He was just a scrawny little kid then, living out on the streets; this was only about a year or so ago, and he was glad to join up. Finally, we took the fight to Taloreso. We severed his supply lines by taking out his rackets and control of cities all over Europe. We'd always keep moving so he'd never know what to expect, and every time we torched another hub, or freed another city, we'd cool our heels back in Naples for a week or two. Don Cordasco had managed to chase Taloreso out long before then, and that's when he took up residence in Venice, not long after Don Octavio was busted."

Caroline was listening in morbid fascination, awed, for some reason, by how Marty told her his story. There was just something captivating about the way he talked. His shirt was sticking to his chest, leaving very little to the imagination. Her eyes slowly went down his chest, and over his stomach, but she stopped herself there, before she went any further. "

Oh my God," she thought. "Is that a six pack?"

Marty looked down at her to find her staring at his stomach. He could tell what was going on in her head, and before he could stop himself, his own eyes were cruising down the Labrador's body, taking in her chest, stomach, legs…

He finally stopped himself and managed to regain his composure, shaking his hand in her face and saying "Hello? Anyone home?"

Caroline started, blinking, and reddened slightly, swatting his hand away and muttering "Yeah, whatever."

Marty rolled his eyes, leaned back against the chair and continued. "Anyway, we kept on blowing up hubs, taking down Taloreso's contacts, and freeing cities from his control. In a little under a year, we've managed to limit his empire to the Shuker brothers and northern Italy, as well as burn through about a ton of ammunition."

He chuckled once more, muttering "Now that I think about it, that pretty much busts our goal of victory in twelve-thousand bullets or less."

That got Caroline laughing, while Marty sat there, grinning and tipping his peasant's cap forward over his eyes.

Caroline liked his smile, so warm, inviting, yet she could tell it was almost unused, almost unnatural to him.

To Marty, Caroline's laugh sounded like someone flicking a crystal bell; clear and, slightly disturbing to him, attractive as well.

Finally, Caroline's laughter slowed, then stopped altogether. Marty pulled his peasant's cap back onto his head, looking back towards her brown eyes.

"Well, Marty, what now?"

She was supporting herself on her elbows, grimacing slightly at the pain. Marty frowned, got up, and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from a duffel bag that served as the McCoy's medical bag. Or, rather, Marty's medical bag, since he knew the most about medicine. Grabbing a water bottle, the horse walked back over, tucking the water bottle under his arm while he opened the bottle of Tylenol, extracting two tablets, then closing it.

Sitting back down, he then handed the water to Caroline, then the tablets, placing the bottle next to the cot, saying "You have a watch, right?"

Caroline nodded, popping the painkillers into her mouth, then taking a swig from the water, swallowing it all down.

Marty got up and said "Make sure you take two of those every hour. It'll really help, believe me. I'm gonna go do damage control. No one's gonna like this, I bet you fifty bucks."

He turned towards the door, but before he could take a step towards it, it flew open, revealing the whole Cooper Gang, including Dimitri, who was supporting himself with a lab table. Julio and Mikhail were leading the procession, and everyone was frowning.

Marty swallowed, briefly, pinning his ears back along his skull, then looked back at Caroline, who was hastily buttoning up her shirt, and muttered "Where's my fifty?"