(A/N: Surprise! Here's the next part, but I'm in a hurry right now, so I'll cut this off right here!)

Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous

Tampico, Mexico

4:39 am

Next Day

Marty lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't get back to sleep, no matter what he tried. His leg and fingers had long since ceased their numbness, and while his fingers didn't hurt, his leg did whenever he moved it. He still had the knee joint, so he was thankful for that, but if his leg didn't get better soon, he didn't know if it would be able to get it into the prosthesis Bentley had built.

The titanium leg was an ingenious prototype, one that Bentley said was supposed to minimize any limping Marty had as well as give added comfort. The leg was underneath his bed right now, and he had already tried it numerous times, all to stagger over in pain, jerking the leg off.

They were supposed to set sail and charge towards the mouth of the Rio Panuco, and he would need all the strength he could get, he knew it. Yet, something kept him awake, something that just made him glance, repeatedly over to the bed next to him; the black lab sleeping peacefully there.

Marty had spent the last half-hour simply admiring her face, wondering why she seemed this beautiful even when covered with sweat, grime, dirt, oil, and blood, and be even more so when she was asleep. He slowly reached out with his left hand, the one he knew wouldn't tremble from blood loss. The IV was still stuck in his right wrist, and he had to refill it every two hours. It was a job he knew he could do, so the others could go about doing what he couldn't; mainly, lightening the ship. With all cargo other than guns and ammunition dumped overboard, they'd already taken three hundred and fifty pounds off the craft. But it still wasn't enough. By Bentley's estimations, it would take another sixty to seventy pounds to make the ship, newly christened the Orca, light enough to go through the mouth of the delta. Once they were past, they wouldn't have any major problems with depth until the end of the river.

Marty's fingers gently closed on a lock of Caroline's dirty hair. Even though it was filthy with sweat, blood and grime, to him it felt like the softest thing in the world. Marty smiled, gently, then, even more gently, let go of the canine's hair and stroked her cheek. Caroline gave out a small noise of satisfaction, and Marty smiled. Undoubtedly, she was thinking of a loving boyfriend, or even husband, back home in Paris or London.

Retracting his hand, Marty looked back up at the ceiling, reviewing again in his mind about just why he didn't deserve Caroline;

One, she was a Labrador, and he was a hybrid species of horse. He respected their difference in species, for she might want to be with another dog.

Two, and the strongest, she was a law enforcement officer, and he was a killer on the vengeance trail. Even after all this blew over, she would probably go back to solving crimes and busting criminals like him.

Three, their ages. He had just turned eighteen, and Julio had told him that she would soon be twenty-two. Women never liked younger men, he knew that much.

Four, why WOULD she want him, anyway? In his opinion, there was nothing really attractive about him. Oh, sure, he was muscled, but there was nothing attractive about HIM, himself as a person. And now, he was a cripple.

So, Marty kept his distance. Still, it was hard to suppress his…what were they? Thoughts? Feelings? Maybe both.

Marty sighed, the breath blowing out through his lips in the classic equine lip flapping. Why was he so concerned if Caroline wanted him? The answer was simple, but complicated at the same time;

Caroline showed a level of superiority over him, that much was certain. She had a full college education, she was definantly more intelligent, and she wasn't wanted by the law. Her dedication to justice and order stood out everywhere, starting when she first saw him back in the Paris safe house and attempted to knock him out. She was a wiry little thing, but he had no doubt that if he hadn't stopped that spinning kick she threw before it hit him, he probably would have been laid out, out cold. She had once said that she was in Weapons Research and Development, and her surprise at seeing all the guns in his closet put him off slightly. He never figured that she would be that big of a gun fanatic, or enthusiast, whatever you called it.

She was attractive, he was rugged. She was wiry, he was muscled. She was fully educated, he was a dropout. She was a mature adult woman, he was still a teenager. Their differences were numerous.

Yet, despite all this, despite the fact that Marty considered a love-life a waste of time, despite the fact that it just plain wasn't supposed to happen…

"I love her," he thought to himself.

He felt moisture on his cheek, and put his hand up there to discover a tear running down his face.

This shocked him to the core. He quickly pulled his hand away and stared at it in the dark. The last time he had cried was eight years ago, over his parents' bodies. He'd never shed a tear after that. Not in school fights, not the first time he got shot, not even when his parents were actually buried.

Marty's breath became ragged as that simple drop of liquid hit him like a sledgehammer.

"I love her," he thought again, then continued as he felt another tear squeeze out of his other eye. "And I can't do a damn thing about it."

Marty forced his eyes over to Caroline's sleeping form. Her back was to him, and Marty knew he had to just get it out of his system, get it off his chest; even if she didn't actually hear it.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, then, in a hoarse whisper, said "Caroline, I know you can't hear me." He stopped, taking another ragged breath before continuing. "It doesn't really matter though. What I'm about to say is something that I can never say to you face-to-face; Caroline, we're so different, and we've known each other only a short while, but in that time, something has happened to me, something that I know will cripple me for the rest of my life." He paused again, and when she didn't respond, he kept going. "Sure, I may have lost half my leg, but that's nothing compared to this. A leg can be substituted. A heart can't." Marty took one more deep breath before he let the truth out; "Caroline…I love you."

Marty felt more moisture in his eyes and knew that he was already crying. Here he was, aboard a freighter in Mexico, sleeping in the Med-Bay, two feet away from the woman he loved and knew he could never have.

Slowly, Marty turned his face back to the ceiling, letting the tears flow freely, knowing that trying to hold them back would be impossible.

What he didn't realize, however, was that his confession hadn't fallen on deaf ears like he'd thought.

Caroline's eyes were wide with shock, and her mind kept echoing the same thought; "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God."

She had woken up about five minutes ago and had turned onto her side to try and find a comfortable spot so she could fall back asleep, but then Marty had started talking. Now, she didn't think she would catch one wink of sleep. The canine could hear Marty's quiet sobs, and knew that he was heartbroken because he thought that they couldn't be together. Right now, however, Caroline had never felt more alive. The only question now was, how to make Marty see the possibility? If she could do that, it would be a lot easier to present her idea once everything blew over.

Mexico City

5:29 am

The cougar who had led the ambush at the docks, one Detective Emanuel Herrerez, was currently sitting in his squad car, watching the alley that the escapees were supposedly hiding in. Ever since the news of the escape, Herrerez's career had been on the line. Unless he could bring in Sly Cooper, he would undoubtedly be fired. He had John Doe warrants on the other two, which meant capture if possible, but don't hesitate to shoot to kill.

Around him were four squad cars, all with officers waiting for his signal. Herrerez's feline eyes finally caught movement, and he snarled in glee, a toothy grin spreading over his face. He put a hand up to the radio wire coiling out of his ear to the handset at his waist, and whispered "I saw them. Move in."

Instantly, all eight officers got out of their cars, all carrying assault rifles and wearing full body armor, including face masks. Herrerez, wearing only the basic Kevlar vest and armed with the standard Shock Pistol and 9mm handgun, got out of his car and hung back, hands flexing near both guns.

The officers separated, four on each side of the alley. One of the officers, a bobcat, held up two spread fingers, then put them together and pointed at the alley. Instantly, two more officers, a condor and a coyote, slipped out of line and into the mouth of the alley. They would have proceeded with this pattern until all officers were in the alley, but something interrupted this pattern; five bursts of gunfire from inside the alley.

Both the officers fell over, dead, while bullets whistled out, some ricocheting off walls, others grazing the closer officers' arms as they ducked for cover.

"Open fire!" came the shout from the bobcat, and every officer took up a position at the mouth of the alley and fired in.

For the first two seconds, there was only gunfire.

Then, radio chatter as each officer began to panic at what he saw.

"Holy Christ! Is that a shotgun?"

"I'm hit!"

"The wolverine's got a telescope or something on that assault rifle!"

"Stand still you little bastard!"

"Santa Maria, madre de dios! He's running up the wall!"

"Aargh!"

"Martinez is down, I repeat, Martinez is-aaack!"

"We're taking heavy casualties!"

"Look out!"

"What the hell?"

"He's behind us!"

"How'd he-urrgh!"

"I can't hit him! Christ, he's actually dodging my bullets!"

Machine gun fire lit up the dark area by the mouth of the alley, revealing a figure firing two Uzis on the officers and weaving back and forth, but only for a few seconds.

Finally, the radio went silent, and the alley dark.

Herrerez, panicking now, had drawn both pistols and was frantically backing away, back to his car. He saw movement in the alley, then heard soft voices. His back ran into his vehicle, and he scrambled inside, not bothering to shut the door as he floored the gas.

Back in the alley, Sly, Mikhail, Murray, and Julio were walking among the bodies, making sure that they were all dead. Mikhail took another glance up at the disappearing car, lifting his sunglasses to get a better look.

"Are you sure you want to let that one escape, comrade? I thought we wanted to lay low."

Sly looked up from searching the bobcat, waving his hand and saying "Ah, who cares? It's one cop. Besides, this'll give Interpol the scare of a lifetime."

Mikhail grunted, took a final glance at the disappearing lights, then turned back to the bodies. They had all gotten new clothes, and with sunglasses and hats hiding their faces, they looked almost like local gangsters. Sly was wearing a thick, padded blue jacket and a thin fake mustache. Sly had wanted them because he'd said they looked like the same ones he'd worn on the trip to Blood Bath Bay. Dark sunglasses, a blue bandanna wrapped around his head, baggy black jeans, and the combat boots he'd taken from the dead guard finished the outfit.

Murray, in keeping with his 'pink bodybuilder' look, had taken black jeans and ripped them below the knees, creating cutoff shorts. Another bandanna, this one purple, encircled his brow, while a black muscle shirt and blood red sunglasses, coupled with the shotgun he had, made him one of the most threatening figures there.

Julio, not surprisingly, had gone crazy with his clothes. A white muscle shirt, blue jeans, and, get this, a sombrero were his selection. When everyone had asked why the sombrero, he'd just grinned and said that they would all see later.

Mikhail, however, had gone in exactly the opposite direction. A black trench coat, the combat boots, black slacks, a black, short sleeved shirt, and dark sunglasses accented his 'nightly style.' It was a wonder he didn't pass out from the heat.

Julio stood back up, cramming a few more magazines he had looted into his waistband, and exclaimed "Well, I think that's both sound and crazy logic."

"Says the crazy kid." Mikhail muttered.

Julio ignored him, continuing "I mean, Interpol's sure to be so scared that they'll send the SWAT teams after us now."

"So what?" Sly scoffed, jamming a fresh clip into his Uzi and pulling back the cocking pin. The sound of the gun racking the new clip betrayed Sly's thoughts about Interpol sending the SWAT team.

Mikhail quickly changed the subject, before more shots started flying. "What now, comrades? The police know we're here, Muggshot probably knows we're here. Where can we hide?"

Sly thought for a few seconds, then leaned backwards, looking at something behind Mikhail. After watching for a few seconds, an evil grin spread across his face and he turned to the others, saying "Boys, what do you see behind that shoe store over there?"

Julio, Mikhail, Murray looked to where he was indicating. A large, bone-shaped sign that read "The Boneyard", stretched into the sky.

Murray frowned and remarked "Muggshot's casino. Why?"

Catching the expression on Sly's face, Mikhail did a double-take on the casino, then turned back to Sly and said "Nyet! That's crazy, comrade! You're thinking that we-"

"Stay at Muggshot's place, yes," said Sly, taking Mikhail by the arm and indicating that Julio and Murray follow. "It'll be the last place he'll think of. Trust me, it can't go wrong."

(MUHAHAHAHA!!! I ACTUALLY DID IT!! HAHAHAHAH!!!)