(A/N: Wonderful news people! The plot bunnies are digging into my head, and I've already got a sequel to this fic planned out! I don't have a title though...but I do have a basic storyline! You'll find out later, after this fic, but before I start working on Cry of the Raven. Stay tuned!)

Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

Tampico, Mexico

8:17 am

As it turned out, Marty was worse off than it seemed. The first time he tried to stand on his own, without leaning on anything, he became so dizzy that he couldn't see. To make it worse, his right hand and leg as well as his chest were all numb.

"Probably just have to shake off the effects of all that electricity," Marty had commented later while he lay in one of the beds in the Med Bay. The IV full of blood had been reinserted into his wrist, since it had come out in his initial struggle to stand.

Caroline spent every minute she could with him, having conversation whenever he spoke. Marty had pressed his hands over his torso and found three or four fractured ribs where the Shock Bolts had hit him, right under his collarbone, so he couldn't speak very loud or laugh very hard, but at least he was still alive, still awake.

Currently, everyone was grouped together, trying to decide what to do next. Bentley had 'borrowed' one of the regular wheelchairs from the Med Bay, and was currently setting up his slide show. Marty had swung his leg-and-a-half over the side of the bed, rubbing his jaw in thought. The Guru was sitting on top of the now clean surgical table with Dimitri, while Carmelita, arms still stained with Marty's blood even after a half-hours' scrubbing, was sitting backwards on the chair with her jacket on it. Penelope was currently trying to hook up the last piece of the slideshow equipment, the projector, while Bentley put numerous pictures into a slideshow. Once everything was hooked up, the lights were dimmed and the show was on. First up was a picture of the police from earlier, all aiming their guns at the camera on Bentley's old wheelchair.

"Ok, here's the situation; we've been ambushed by the police, who knew exactly where, when, and how many we'd be. Sly, Mikhail, Murray, and Julio were hauled off, but we've heard that they managed to escape."

The picture flicked to one showing a police car cruising the harbor. "Unfortunately, they've put the police onto our scent. I've not doubt that their watching the ship. In fact-" The picture zoomed on a particular spot. Bentley typed a little more, and the image came into focus; a coyote, crouching at the top of a fire escape, holding a sniper rifle and looking straight at the camera. "They've been doing so since the guys escaped." finished Bentley.

The frown on Marty's face deepened slightly as a thought occurred to him. Filing it away for now, he listened to the rest of Bentley's slide show. Meanwhile, the turtle had started up again.

"Now, the police have a blockade outside the harbor, so we won't be able to escape to the sea, not even if we had a destroyer. Instead, we'll just need to wait out the heat here. We can hold off whatever the police can throw at us, right?" The last part seemed more like he was looking for reassurance than a rhetorical question.

Bentley was about to end the slideshow, when Marty sat up, pulling the IV out of his arm with a small grunt. Caroline got up from her seat, worry etched on her face, and extended an arm to help keep Marty up, which he gratefully accepted. Using Caroline as balance, Marty managed to hop over to a chair next to Bentley's laptop, then plopped down in it.

After a few seconds brief rest, he said "Well, actually Bentley, there IS something else we can do."

After examining the computer for a few seconds, Marty began typing slowing, halting every once in a while to hold his head. The rest of the room looked curiously on, but couldn't what the horse was doing because his massive frame blocked it from their view.

Finally, twenty minutes later, Marty turned the chair around to face his audience, then reached back and punched a button on the laptop. The regular picture of the harbor popped up again, and Marty zoomed in on the coyote again, but this time, the sniper was only off to the side.

What Marty was focusing on was in the background.

"The Rio Panuco," Marty began, halting again to hold his head for a second, then continuing. "The Rio Panuco is part of one of the many deltas in Mexico. It stretches from the sea all the way to within-" Marty looked back at the computer screen, which currently displayed a map of Mexico from an Internet browser, checked the scale, did some quick figuring in his head, then said "Within thirty miles of Mexico City. It's also the only river in its delta deep enough and wide enough to let the ship go all the way. We've got the van, and if we empty the ship of all other cargo, it should be light enough to travel downriver. We'll move all the guns and ammunition up to the captain's cabin, throw the bodies overboard, and lighten the ship of everything else that isn't bolted down, then head for the channel. The police probably won't be expecting us to make a move as daring as that."

Marty clicked and brought up his second picture, this one an arial view of Mexico City. Marty indicated with his hand a tall, recently built casino whose sign read 'The Boneyard.'

"It's probably not too hard to figure out that this is Muggshot's base of operations. I'm betting that by the time we make it to Mexico City, the boys will have cleared Muggshot and most of his goons out of the place, so we'll be there for an escape route. If one of them still has a cell phone, COMM link or Binocucom, we can give them the green light."

Marty typed a little more, pausing twice to hold his head again, and brought up his final picture; another port city.

"This is Monterrey. It's only about fifty miles from Mexico City, so, since it's highly unlikely that we'll be able to turn this ship around in the Rio Panuco, this'll be our best escape. However, this whole plan hinges on the hope that nothing has been done to the river. If there are any dams or bridges in the way, we'll have to blast through."

Marty shut down the slideshow program, closed the laptop, then turned to the others to see their reactions. Everyone was thoughtful. Then, Dimitri had to do what he did best; open his big mouth.

"HAHA! Yooza plan, it brilliant! We gotta dice-a-roni chance of making it!"

Bentley, eyebrows raised, said "It's sketchy at best, but I never would've come up with something like that! Points to you on that one, Marty!"

Penelope expressed her thoughts by walking up to the horse and giving him a kiss on the cheek, which made both Marty and Caroline turn red, Marty from embarrassment, and Caroline from jealousy. Penelope pulled back, smiling, and said "Hey, Bentley, you know how I like smart men? Well you better pull something fast, because this guy's starting to catch my eye!" It was said more as a joke, but Caroline could feel her anger simmering in her gut.

"Easy, now. She's just messing around. Marty actually has come up with a good plan."

Carmelita, however, had one troubling thought.

"Just how long do you think it'll take to get there, McCoy?"

Marty frowned again, thinking. After a minute, and one head-holding, said "Probably about six days. I need one with no movement to recover sufficiently, then I'll be alright for the five days it'll take to get to the end of the river."

Carmelita frowned back and asked "How do you know you'll be alright? I know you're tough, but this might kill you if you're wrong." Before the equine could say anything, however, Caroline piped up, a clever smile on her face as she said "Oh, don't worry. Marty's one-fourth of the way to becoming a doctor, and what he didn't learn at school, he learned on his own."

Everyone looked, first at the grinning canine, then at the horse who was trying not to meet anyone's eyes. Caroline's tail, which had just been hanging out the back of the chair a moment ago, began to wag slightly as her smile grew even broader at the thought of what Marty could be like with a full doctor's education. He was already a good surgeon with only one year of college. He was probably even better than that slime ball Richardson right now.

At that point, an idea, which would eventually shape the future of the equine sitting next to her, formed itself in her mind. At first, she dismissed it, thinking it impossible, but the more she pondered on it, the more it began to make sense. Filing it away for later use, Caroline stood up to help Marty back to the bed. He was looking a little sleepy.

Mexico City

8:36 am

A shabbily dressed rabbit was scrounging around in a trash can on the outskirts of town, looking for scraps to eat. It had been twelve whole hours since he last ate, and his stomach was reminding him. He paused, briefly and looked out at the desert. Normally, there wasn't anything there, just dunes and dust clouds.

This time, though, there was something else.

Three figures, one taller, one shorter, were walking towards the city. The rabbit squinted, trying to make them out. In a few minutes, they came into focus, and he cringed, a look of horror on his face. The figures were a tall black panther, a middling raccoon and a short wolverine. All three were dressed in ragged clothing and wearing police issue combat boots.

But that's not what scared the rabbit. What scared him was the fact that they were carrying guns.

Each had a 9mm pistol in a holster belted around his waist, but the panther had two more, stuffed into his waist band. The raccoon carried two Uzi machine pistols, one in each hand, and another poked out of his belt. The wolverine, meanwhile, had an assault rifle cradled in his arms, with a telescope taped to the top.

The rabbit stumbled backwards, then turned and made a run for it, reverting to all fours for extra speed.

As Sly, Mikhail and Julio stepped into the shade, two of them let out sighs of relief. Mikhail, after all, was from Russia, and Sly just didn't like heat. Julio, on the other hand, was accustomed to the sticky humidity of a Portuguese summer, and paid no attention to the baking temperature. Mikhail was the first to speak.

"Well, comrades, what should we do first? Undoubtedly, we can't take on Muggshot like this. We stick out like sore thumbs."

Sly could see his point, and looked around a little for something to help them out. A clothing shop on the corner caught his eye. The store was still closed, and it looked like one slight jimmy of the lock, and the doors would pop open. Looking around, Sly made sure they were alone, then motioned to the other two to follow him. As it turned out, Sly's thoughts were correct. As soon as he inserted the wire he used for a lock pick, the double doors sprang inward. Sly held out his hand, looking around. No motion detectors. No laser security. Hell, no cameras, even. Sly looked back at the rows of clothing and grinned. Muggshot wouldn't be able to tell them apart from the Mexican population once they were done here.