(A/N: OK, before I start, I would just like to thank all my reviewers, especially Heiduska. You doing anything next Saturday? (winks) Anyway, I just want to give you one more little secret; somewhere in the next two or three chapters, I'm going Matrix on all your asses! HAHAHAHAHA!!! That means that I'll be borrowing the Lobby Shootout scene from the first Matrix, changing it a little, and putting it in the story, but I WILL NOT claim the whole thing as mine. I'll even put a disclaimer up on that chapter!)

Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

Tampico, Mexico

7:47 am

The blood had long since stopped dripping. It was still in the horse's coat of hair, but it was no longer puddling. In a chair nearby, a fox with blood on her arms up to her elbows slept where she had thrown herself down from exhaustion. An old, purple koala was leaning against the wall, sleeping peacefully. A light, over the surgical table, shone down on the horse, stretched out on the table, and a black Lab sitting in a chair next to him, simply staring at his face. Slowly, a hand reached out and brushed something invisible from the equine's face. His cheek twitched, and the hand retracted, slightly, but when nothing else happened, the hand came back, this time to stroke his cheek.

Nothing.

Caroline sighed. She had Carmelita had long since managed to convince the Guru to seal off Marty's wounds, but it took him more effort than it did to heal Carmelita's. Carmelita had been helping Caroline clean Marty's wound for about five minutes after the Guru finished before the vixen dropped herself into a chair and fell asleep.

Caroline, meanwhile, had finished cleaning the floor and had to find out on her own what Marty's blood type was. She hoped she'd pumped enough into him. The needle was still in his wrist, pumping the precious red liquid into his system.

Caroline knew she had done all she could have to help him, but she felt that it just wasn't enough. She ran a tired hand through her sweat-matted hair, which she had pulled into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She knew that even if she took a sleep pill, she'd never drop off.

She looked back down at Marty's face again. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and she looked down at his right hand. His trigger finger had twitched, slightly. She looked back up at his face.

Nothing.

Then, the corner of his mouth moved slightly. His left eye also twitched. She heard a slight, almost inaudible, sound that seemed familiar. Then it came to her; Marty was groaning. It was quiet, but it meant that he was alive.

A grin broke out across her face, and she looked around. No one awake to celebrate with. She looked back down at Marty as he fell silent. Her grin slowly shrank to a relieved smile, and she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, then stood back up, still smiling.

"It's about time."

Caroline's hand went for her Webley, and she spun and faced her adversary, who turned out to be…Penelope.

Caroline blinked, then she lowered and holstered her weapon. Penelope still had a trace of a smile on her face, but her eyebrows had gone up, some.

"Man, I would NOT want to be gunning against you. Jesse James wouldn't have stood a chance!"

Caroline blushed slightly at the admiration. The next statement, however, made her blush so much it was visible through her fur.

"You, uh, like Marty, huh?"

The damned mouse had such a smirk on her face, it seemed to stretch twice around her head.

Caroline looked away, desperate for anything to break the current conversation, though she didn't know why. Finding nothing satisfactory, she finally just muttered "Yes, why?"

Penelope's smirk only seemed to grow larger. Before she could speak, however, an all-too-familiar voice behind her said "Hey, sweet-candy, mind giving a freebie to a homie?"

Penelope, frowning, turned to find Dimitri struggling to pull Bentley down into the Med-Bay. Penelope frowned again, saying "When did you wake up? And why'd you bring him down here? Surely you saw the bodies?"

"Yeah, sure, and we would've been part of them if we hadn't come down here. The coppers is searching the port."

Penelope's eyes widened, and Caroline went over to wake up Carmelita, all the while asking "What for? Any idea?"

Dimitri nodded, having set Bentley down, and said "Yeah, yooz two's boyfriends' gangs broke the coop."

Caroline's mouth hung open at this remark, and she turned to face the lizard. She was not only shocked by news that the rest of the gang had escaped, but by Dimitri referring to Marty as her 'boyfriend.'

Was it really that obvious? If so, what if the others had noticed anything from Marty?

Before she could say anything, however, a groan sounded through the room. Every awake person turned to look at the surgical table, and every set of eyes popped open, and every mouth hung open to find Marty McCoy STANDING!

Well, leaning, actually, since all that was left of his right foot was a stump. He was supporting himself with his right hand and rubbing his head with his left. With no hat or shirt, his cropped, straight-standing mane stood free of any restraints, and coupled with his bare chest, he looked like-

"An Iroquois."

Everyone jumped, not as much as before, but still…anyway, Bentley was still talking.

Wait, Bentley was talking?

"They live on the East coast and they all have their hair like that."

Marty covered pressed his ears back along his head, rubbing it as he muttered "Please, Bentley, I have a splitting headache. Talk softer, PLEASE."

Looking at the others, he quietly asked "So, what have I missed? How bad did it get?"

Caroline smiled and began helping Marty back onto the bed, saying "It's actually getting a lot better right now, Marty."

In her head, the canine was doing some fast thinking. If it was obvious enough that she liked Marty that Dimitri noticed, could it be possible that SHE could notice if Marty liked her? She couldn't deny her feelings for him any longer. But what did HE feel about HER?

Mexican Highway Between Tampico and Mexico City

6:43 am

One Hour Earlier

It had been a half-hour. Now, it was a standoff.

One of the guards peered around his cover, one of the van's back doors, gripping his machine gun tightly. The prisoners had somehow blown open the back of the van without explosives, and slashed both tires without knives or broken glass. They were now out there, somewhere, and they had guns. The odds had originally been with the police, with a round dozen against four. However, with the elimination of two men to acquire guns, the score was then ten to four. Over the past half-hour, it had slowly been whittled down to an even match-four on four. Each side knew that the other was running low on ammunition. If the fight carried on like this much longer, someone on the road would have to notice the totaled van…if it hadn't been two miles off-road.

The guard peered further around, then ducked down as the gleam of gunmetal flashed through his vision. A fraction of a second later, a shot rang out, ricocheting off the door. The guard turned to his comrades. Fear showed on each of their faces. One of them was thinking, then took off his tan-colored helmet. He set it on the end of his gun barrel, then held it up, so that the top of the helmet was dancing just over the top of the van. A second later, a shot rang out, and the helmet went flying.

Julio grinned as he watched the tan metal disappear. The machine gun he had was best for full combat, but not very good for marksmanship. Or, at least, it wasn't SUPPOSED to be. Crouching back down behind the rock formation the rest of the gang were also hiding behind, Julio grinned again as he heard the panicked shouts in Spanish of surrender. There was silence for a few seconds, then sixteen guns, three machine guns, a pump-action shotgun, four semi-automatic pistols, four Shock Rifles and four Shock Pistols all flew out from behind the van. Grins and smiles spread all around the gang. Interpol liked it's troops well prepared.

As the guards came out, so did the gang. Murray dropped the machine gun he'd grabbed, instead picking up the shotgun, pleased to find it a fourteen-gauge. It had decent power, yet was manageable enough so that he could fire it rapidly. Julio picked up two more machine gun magazines, while Mikhail scooped up another pistol as Sly grabbed ammunition.

When all four had guns that they liked, they all faced the guards.

"Alright guys," said Julio, in Spanish. "This is how it'll work. You give us the ammunition you have on you, then take off your boots and start walking."

"Walking? Barefoot? Are you loco, senior? It's ten miles to Mexico City, and even farther to Tampico!"

"Better walk fast, then." snarled Sly, cocking the 9mm he held.

The guards passed a look of apprehension among themselves, then began pulling out their ammunition. However, when one of the guards reached for his boot, he suddenly straightened, and in his hand there was an Uzi machine pistol, pulled from a concealed leg holster. The other guards, seeing this, also reached for leg holsters and came up with machine pistols. Everyone drew beads on the other side, and in a burst of gunfire, it was over. The guards had barely gotten off twenty shots together, and none of the Cooper/McCoy Gang were injured.

Sly threw down his 9mm and started collecting Uzis and ammo, saying "Get guns and ammo. We may need it later. Also, put on some boots. I don't know about you guys, but I'm not walking into Mexico City barefoot." "We're still going to Mexico City, comrade?" Mikhail questioned, a puzzled look on his face. Sly turned back to him, a clever grin on his face as he shoved a fresh magazine into the Uzi he held.

"Of course. With this little stunt he's organized, Muggshot will think he's finished us. Exactly the right time to strike."

(Review, or else I'll call in Neo! You do remember what he did to all those Agents, right?)