(A/N: Due to everyone's begging me, I have decided that, after a year of inactivity, this fic is back in business! That's right, revived!)
Sly Cooper: Armed and Dangerous
Tampico, Mexico
6:17 am
Now, they just stood at the railing, looking out to the sea, his arm around her shoulders, but gently, loosely, as if he was afraid that if he held her too hard, she would shatter. The sunrise glimmered off the water, throwing reflections into both of their eyes. It seemed as though this moment couldn't be spoiled; except it was.
"Oi! Marty! Caroline! Get your friggin' asses out here, PRONTO! We still gotta lotta work to do!"
Marty groaned, his head suddenly hanging down, Stetson in danger of dropping into the water beneath, and muttered, icily, "Aw, c'mon ma, just lemme sleep five more minutes."
Caroline giggled and pulled his hat back a little, saying "C'mon, cowboy. They're going to get suspicious if we don't."
Marty brought his head up to look her in the eye, skeptically, before saying "Yeah, and they'll be suspicious if we do. I'm not an idiot, they'll know something's up."
Caroline smiled sadly, shaking her head slightly and saying "Marty, Marty, Marty…Marty. They already know something's up. I'm not an idiot either, but I've got to say that they've noticed us acting very odd around each other."
Marty's jaw dropped slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, and he was silent for a moment, before responding "I knew that."
Giggling again, Caroline pulled the hat down into his face this time, kissing his cheek before saying "C'mon Captain Ahab, let's get going."
Marty rolled his eyes, adjusting his hat once again before following her, his overlarge hand gripping her small slender one loosely, back towards the rest of the gang, who were currently finishing throwing the last of the unnecessary cargo overboard. Carmelita was currently pushing the final extra ammunition crate over the railing when she caught sight of the couple. Her eyes darted to their clasped hands, and a small smile appeared on her face, only to be obliterated by a scowl. She finished tipping the crate over the rail, sending it to the water with a loud splash, before turning to them and saying "Heh. 'Bout time you two got here. We've nearly got everything finished."
Marty frowned, saying "Wait a minute. When I went for a break, there was still a lot more cargo."
Carmelita grinned, saying "We thought so too. Turns out that we found some things we just couldn't dump."
Marty frowned again, pausing to consider what those 'things' might be before asking the question "Such as?"
"You're just as nuts as me."
Marty had gotten his answer, thirty seconds later, when he'd followed Carmelita into the hold to inspect their startling prize. Sitting in front of him, still in their crate, were three Italian made FN Minimis. Another crate beside them held about 20 box magazines, each holding 200 5.56 caliber rounds. If they fixed those to the railing on the bow, they would be able to treat anything in their way to a machine gun opera without worrying too much about burning through ammo.
He picked one up, cradling it gently as though it were a baby and said, voice full of glee, "I WANT one!"
Carmelita was still smirking as she tapped him on the shoulder, motioning him over to another crate and saying "If you love that so much, why not look over here."
With a small tug, she turned the stallion on the spot, and his jaw dropped as his eyes fell on the only two crates left. One of them, filled with padding, contained two Russian made RPG launchers, already fitted with rockets. The seconds crate contained the munitions for the aforementioned explosive projectile launching mechanisms. In short, the second crate had about ten or twelve high explosive rockets packed into the padding.
Marty stared at the munitions for a few seconds, looking slightly like a fish out of water before he asked "Was the good captain transporting anything else we weren't aware of?"
This was where Bentley and Penelope came onto the scene, Bentley shaking his head and responding "That's the unfortunate part. It doesn't look like it at all. Remember what the sailors were using? Handguns and shotguns. Mostly, that would work for fending off boarders, but, unfortunately, these weren't your average boarders. We found several sailors' bodies around the machine guns' crate, indicating at least a few of them knew about the stash and tried to get to it when things went bad. We only found the rockets by chance. There's nothing anywhere else."
Marty's face fell, and he muttered "Dammit. We could use the extra firepower."
Cue everyone else rolling their eyes and Carmelita saying, sarcastically, "Yeah, it's not like you don't have your own personal armory."
Marty's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly, there came a yell from the top deck.
"HOLY CRAP! YOOZA STUPID CRACKER-BOXES BETTER GET UP HERE! WE GOTS THE FOUR-ONE ON US!"
It took everyone a few seconds to work out that 'four-one' actually meant 'five-o.'
However, when everyone did realize it, they all started scrambling for guns. Immediately, Marty took charge.
"Alright, let's go! I want the Minimis up top, hooked on the railing. Haul up one of the RPGs if you have to! SMGs and assault rifles preferred, leave the bolt actions in the bay for less weight. Who here has the most experience piloting a ship like this?"
To no surprise, Carmelita's hand was the only one that went up.
"Congratulations, you've just become skipper. Start this thing up and let's get a move on. Ladies and gentlemen, we are leaving now, whether the police like it or not!"
The Boneyard Casino, Mexico City
6:24 am
"You can't be serious, comrade."
"I'm as serious as possible."
"But we have a small problem: we have no money."
Sly gave Mikhail an irritated look, then asked "Mikhail, did you think that would actually stop me?"
The panther looked Sly in the eye, as much as he could with two pairs of sunglasses in the way, and sighed, saying "Not really. Still worth a try, I suppose."
Sly grinned, taking Mikhail by the shoulder and leading him into a section of the casino called 'The Den,' saying "Like I said, this'll work. It's perfect, I've done this sort of thing before, I know what kind of machines he uses. This'll be the perfect revenge. First, we clean him out, hit him here it hurts, then we take him out, and this time, he ain't just going to a cell again. C'mon, what could go wrong?"
Little did he know of the dog hidden up on a balcony high above their heads watching them through the scope of his Arctic Warfare Magnum sniper rifle, grinning toothily and smoking a cigar that drifted ashes down onto his blue tuxedo.
Tampico, Mexico
6:29 am
"Oi! Super-horse, man! They trying to flank us!"
"They can't flank us, you idiot, we're in the water!"
Marty turned away from the lizard, pumping another burst of high caliber rounds into another police officer who tried to close the distance to the ship. The coyote's bullet-proof SWAT armor didn't stop the rounds, and they ripped through the Kevlar like a knife through rice paper. The other officers had seen the wisdom of sticking close to their armored car, particularly after a decisive grenade from Bentley's makeshift launcher had blasted six of their number down. The regular officers, who had arrived in standard cruisers, were also taking cover behind their cars, blind-firing their lethal hardware over the tops. Idiots.
Dimitri pointed into the water on his side with his MP50 sub-machine gun, yelling "NO! Not them! THEM!"
Just the way the iguana said it made Marty stop firing long enough to look over his shoulder, and he didn't like what he saw.
"Patrol boats! Starboard side!"
Quickly, he scrambled over to the other side, only to be intercepted by a salamander clambering up over the railing, swinging a pistol up to aim at his head. Marty had no doubt that the bullets were waterproof, and as such, that made simply knocking the lizard over the railing again a useless strategy.
Whatever. It only occurred to him briefly. Instead, he shredded the salamander's torso without a second thought, and he folded like a wet paper sack. A bloody, wet, paper sack.
Kicking the falling corpse out of the way, Marty stumbled on his bad leg, almost falling over the railing himself, which was his saving grace, as another salamander had just fired at him, missing by a hair. Marty responded with yet another burst of fire, knocking this boarder back over the rail in a spray of blood. Marty, thanking his luck, managed to push himself off the railing, stumbling slightly before yelling "Boarders! Boarders!"
"I KNOW!" came the response from Caroline, who socked another of the slimy policemen in the face, throwing him overboard after stripping him of his pistol. Marty, at first, was confused as to why she didn't just shoot them. Sure, the Webley was old, but it was still plenty powerful.
And then it occurred to him that none of the 'frogmen' so to speak, were firing on her. Instead, they were rushing to get in close, get to close quarters, and the realization hit him in the face. She wasn't shooting them for the same reason they weren't killing her. She was a cop, trying not to kill her own kind, and they were cops who were obviously trying to bring her back in! Well, like hell he'd let that happen.
Another boarder brought him out of his daze, a big komodo dragon, this time, smacking him in the back of the head with the stock of his shotgun, sending Marty falling to the deck. His vision swam red, and he found it hard to breathe all of a sudden. He tried to get up when a foot planted itself on his back, pinning him down again. He felt the barrel of the shotgun being put to his head, felt through that more than head the lizard's muscular arm working the pump…right before another rattle of gunfire alleviated the pressure.
Marty managed to get on his knees, Minimi up to blaze the bastard down, only to find him being hosed with lead from Dimitri's own gun. The large body fell to the deck, and Dimitri put an extra round into the komodo dragon's head just for extra measure. Marty, having finally managed to regain his breath, wheezed "Thanks. I owe you one."
"No problemo, bro. Although, I will be collecting that in the near future." Dimitri replied as he shot another officer, point blank in the face, with his Luger.
Marty simply nodded, managed to regain his feet, and rushed once more to the aid of Caroline, who really didn't look like she needed it, managing to hold her own against even a pair of komodos that had approached her from either side. With a burst of speed, Marty vaulted over the cargo hatch in the middle of the deck, firing burst after burst as he went, ripping one of the large lizards apart, then landing boots first on the other's face, knocking him back over the rail. Caroline spluttered indignantly as Marty turned, blowing invisible smoke from his gun and saying "Need some help, sweetheart?"
She huffed, snarling "No, I certainly did NOT! I had it handled!"
A bullet snatching Marty's Stetson from his head quickly ended the argument, bringing the couple back to the gunfight.
Bentley and Penelope had been getting some throwing practice in, tossing grenades like baseball pitchers into the police boats, blasting them, literally, out of the water, plugging up the 'frogmen' from reaching the ship, which was still too close to the dock for comfort.
Noting this, Marty, ran for the bridge, yelling as he went "Godammit, Carmelita, when are we gonna get moving?!" He went through the door, only to have a very angry vixen turn on him and yell "JUST AS SOON AS I GET THIS TO WORK, DUMBASS! I'VE NEVER PILOTED SOMETHING THIS SIZE!"
After that, she went to muttering foul things under her breath, and Marty decided it was the best time to make a hasty exit. He ran into Bentley, who was just trying to figure out how to mount the steps, and instead had to be helped back into his wheelchair by Marty, before he said, calmly, "Just wanted to let you know, we're out of grenades."
Marty stared at him, dumbfounded, wondering how the hell he was so nonplussed about this, before shaking his head and saying "Doesn't matter. I just got an idea."
-----------------
Back behind the armored car, a bobcat, dressed in full body armor, hurriedly reloaded his AK, waiting for some of the fire to die down so he could get his chance. Just when he was ready to crawl under the car and try to hit them from a prone position, the shooting suddenly stopped. The bobcat leaned around the bullet-chipped corner, focusing on the ship.
The engines had started, and the craft was laboriously turning away. However, there was no one on board.
Strange.
The other officers were also peering around their cover, trying to find something, anything, that could explain this oddity.
Wait, there! There was a flash of movement at the door leading to the cargo hold. The bobcat and every other officer brought up their weapons, but even the best trained soldier couldn't have stopped what happened next.
With a fwoosh, a stream of white smoke erupted from the doorway, propelling the rocket straight towards the cab of the armored car.
No one even got the time to scream before it detonated.
-----------------
Marty watched the explosion engulf the pier, as a chain reaction lit up and blasted the other cars, scorching the cement and splintering the wooden dock, sending the structure crashing down into the water. He let his breath out though his lips as the Orca finally began turning in earnest, and muttered "Well, it's no Julio, but it'll have to do for now."
The Boneyard Casino, Mexico City
6:52 am
The wheels of the slot machine all slid down on the picture of Muggshot's face, dinging for the fourteenth time and pouring a pile of pesos into the small tray on the side.
Sly grinned, turning to Mikhail and saying "See? It's all about how you hit it. You can actually make a fortune at one of these places that expect you to lose all your money."
Mikhail shook his head, rubbing his eyes with one hind under his sunglasses. Of course Sly would know how to rig the machines. They had already acquired several pocketfuls of coins, and as long as Sly was going at it, it didn't look like stopping.
Sly leaned around, looking for the third and fourth members of their party, muttering "Where…ah, there's Murray."
Of course, the hippo was at the bar, arm wrestling for cash and winning damn near every time. The bar counter was starting to crack under where he slammed every one of his opponent's fists, and Murray was loving the glory. Of course, the trickle of money was also very pleasing as well.
Mikhail looked over his shoulder, towards where Julio was playing poker at another table, and cheating at it, of course. He wasn't as good as Bentley, but his skill was proficient enough that he won more times than he lost, and a neat little pile of coins was sitting in front of him. No doubt about it, if they kept this up, they would clean Muggshot out in no time.
"Why don't you go over to the Blackjack tables, at least? Here, take some cash to start yourself off."
Mikhail sighed again, accepting the coins Sly offered him and heading towards the tables.
---------------------
Up on the balcony, Vinny's finger tightened on the trigger and he centered the crosshairs on the panther's head. Then, just as quickly, the digit relaxed. Wait a week. That was what Muggshot had said. But the second that week was up, that panther's head was going to be splattered all over the carpet.
(You're just going to love the next few chapters. Now, review! I command it!)