Not sure what I was expecting when I brought Blake to the hideout, but there was… an overabundance of silence.
And… unsure looks away.
And… the occasional cough.
There was a whole lot of awkward going on. Not like past new recruits had any smoother introductions, but hey, our gang was never one to stick to the norms. I didn't know what to expect in any standard of the thing.
I certainly didn't expect Bentley's investigation of the clue to lead us to Africa. But four cheap disguises and a bumpy flight later, there we were, at the heart of a bustling trade empire in Timbuktu. We weren't sure what to look for, but there was word on the underground grapevine of something going on. For trained thieves, it didn't take much to see the bad with all the goods on every store sign and poster.
Grimjaw Adams, CEO by day and something less above water by night, according to his Interpol file.
Coming from a wealthy family that once upon a time ran a legitimate business, they took their trade to Africa in hopes of making Adams a household name. Apparently, years of business transaction and a few big game hunts doesn't prepare you for life in the jungle, as CEOs and company officials kept disappearing one by one. By the time it was Grimjaw's turn, he took it on like company running was in the genes.
A theory that only needed three days to be proven so, so wrong.
The snotty heir ex-billionaire had two options. Live life in a creek and wonder what might have been or get in the grime and build it back up from the mud. He chose the latter, and with help from the black market, Grimjaw was on top of the world again.
His business still looks as squeaky clean as a trade empire in Africa can get, up front. But even rookies who only know half the way around a checkbook can see it's suspicious that he's the only business around that shows signs of profit. These days he does corporate greed good by overwhelming rival and startup companies into bankruptcy. Any sign of competition and merchandise goes missing before they get swallowed up by his hungry croc of a company.
A trade business with dirty dealings wasn't what anyone was expecting in terms of a new adventure. Still, it's gonna be fun.
A poly-cellular battery glowing like an alien device beneath that dented and rusted hood kept the Cooper Van running strong on the muddy road. It spiraled around the mountain path overlooking the hub. Sly, one to take in the sights himself, swung from the window and took roost on a branch overhead.
The first few rows of sun-faded cloth over wooden stalls drew him in through the inbred Cooper love for realms rife with mystery from ages past. Yet from there it faded into a sight straight out of Pittsburg. Merchants were barely seen amongst the surplus of guards and workers in what looked to be another grungy factory, grim scowls over their faces. Trees were cut to the bare minimum as water wheels churned through the rivers, with sounds closer to mud than actual water. Overlooking the degradation into the modern age, near lost in smog, was a stone skyscraper amid a small palace ground. The stalls looked as though they were about to be pushed off the edge.
A villain's sense of commercialism was a scary yet worldly thing.
The master thief slid from his perch along a vine, across treetops, and into the grounds. Vaulting from a clothesline he snuck into a building near the main grounds, creeping down the stairs and into the web-covered, musty basements. The lower levels were just as bustling as above, yet without the otherworld splendor, as if the glitter was wiped away. Flows of black water along the grounds, men shifting around as they moved carts filled with items, and the stench of rotted plants and steam assaulted the raccoon's nostrils. His foot shifted on the damp metal nearly slipping as he took position.
His com buzzed in his ear. Bentley's voice cracked from the other side."You know the routine, Sly. I'll need a few photos to get a grasp of what we're up against. Something about this Grimjaw guy doesn't sit well with me."
"Gee, what was your fist clue? The aggressive push of industrialism or the shady rumors?"
"Can I get a straight answer from you just once?"
"You know you enjoy my debonair charm."
"Like I enjoy gangrene."
Sly smirked pulling his Binocucom to his eyes, zooming the device into focus. His next sight wiped the grin from his face and tensed his grip on the shaft of his cane. Small shapes in dirtied colors wandered the grounds, limping and collapsing under the weight of their work. A click of the button and the thieves' sense of justice flared seeing the image.
"Always put stock in shady rumors in this business." Bentley's disgust crackled on the com link. "It seems Grimjaw was using children as a labor force."
"Whatever keeps him from writing another paycheck, right?" Sly sent the photo and ran out onto the tarps above the field. His work continued by the river bed with another few clicks near the boats and water wheels.
"Those boats are how Grimjaw transports goods between his business grounds and airports. There's a connection to his illegal trade as well, but I'll need to take a closer look."
"While you're doing your routine head scratching there, look at this." Sly clicked the photo at the river and wooden walls at strategic points.
"What!?" The turtle's angry call evoked static. "The dams make up an entire network meant to divert the flow of water! Clean water gets into his facility while water filled with toxins flow into other areas. So that's how the slimy snake is sabotaging his competitors!"
"Yeah, I know how you feel about the sad fate of fish. You're a poster boy for wildlife institutes everywhere."
"Haha. Did you get a shot of the water wheels?"
The thief, on the move and stopped perched over a metal building, snapped a shot at one large wheel in interest with a massive tankard nearby. "So this whole operation's running on water power? You'd think this guy was an environmentalist, save for the ring of toxic sludge around him."
"So what say we do the real environmentalists proud? Head on back to the Safe House and we'll get things going."
The clutter of their makeshift hideout was lost in the dark, as the whole room was black save for a giant holographic screen. On a gridlined screen, a map of the entire complex was on display, with points highlighted in red showing each of Sly's photos. At the top of the map was the villain in question: Grimjaw Adams.
It ever boggled Sly how a man in formal attire: a tucked-in neckerchief complete with glowing gem and a coat like red velvet could usually be found playing the role of villain. Yet if his attire didn't give off the image, his face did–a gharial with an elongated snout and perfect rows of fangs that glittered like diamonds. It matched the rumors of his trade business, ready to snap jaws around the competition and chew them into tiny shreds. Photo shopping would never have done it justice.
Bentley had rolled in with a baton swerving over each of the photos, enlarging as it passed. He held his tablet close and fingered through the notes. Sly, Murray, and Blake sitting in the corner held silent until he cleared his throat to pull them at attention.
"Alright boys, we've got a bit of a pickle with this Grimjaw but nothing we haven't come across before. Mysterious incidents coupled with eventual shutdowns from his competitors are all part of this guy's game plan to make his trade emporium the only one in Timbuktu. If this goes through, his business will expand, and he'll gain a monopoly on the markets."
"I'm guessing our 'friends' on the black market aren't liking that either." Sly pointed.
"The key to business is having customers." Bentley said adjusting his glasses. "Now, to put a stop to it we'll need more intel, and that starts with getting access to the complex. We'll also have to make a play for his imports, see if we can't make life more difficult for this guy."
"Now you're talking!" Murray slammed his fist in his hand.
"Sly, you're up first." Bentley swiped the baton bringing images of the guards. The security of villains was universal in their clear lack of hygiene, Sly thought seeing their unkempt, dimwitted looks. "You'll be doing what you do best, pick-pocketing keys from the guards so that we'll have access to the docks and the cargo ships. I'll also need you to look into these encryption devices scattered around and help me splice them to get into their communications."
He swiped the screen again. "Murray, you're up next. Once Sly's gotten the keys, you'll be taking out the boats to cripple the intake here. Any bad business for Grimjaw is good for us."
"And any skull-cracking done along the way is pretty good too!"
"Alright, let's head out!"
As antsy as he was for action, that abrupt end to Bentley's speech got Sly's attention. The raccoon blinked as his features wrinkled. "Uh, Bentley? Aren't you forgetting something?"
"That's unlikely. I plan for every scenario."
"Not this time, because you left out our newest recruit." Sly pointed to the raven, still huddled up and looking bored now that he was stuck in his seat in the back longer. "What is he supposed to do?"
"Exactly what he's doing right now." Bentley adjusted his glasses and rolled away. "Sitting in that chair, where I'll be keeping an eye on him."
"Wonderful, my first babysitter. You promised this was something worth leaving home for." Blake quipped.
"I had a little more in mind than bonding time." Sly whipped over to Bentley's desk. "Seriously, Bentley, I gave our business a five-star review, biased as that was. I told you this kid was past pick-pocketing and ready for the big leagues. What's the problem?"
"The problem is I don't have a proper evaluation of his skill set. I don't know what he can do so it's risky to send him out."
As cautious as it was, it was still a lie. Bentley had reviewed the security footage from the warehouse and caught the young raven in action the same as him and even checked every scrap of data Interpol bothered to keep on the lowest rungs of society scum. Blake was rough around the edges, but a few missions and training would have made him into the next Cooper. There was something reflected along the rims of those big glasses that the turtle wasn't sharing. Yet Sly caught the razor tinge beneath.
Back during the Cooper Vault job, adjustments with new members were difficult, in terms of jobs and group dynamics. Certain members fit better into the jigsaw frame than others–he couldn't recall how long it took before he could hesitate from raising his cane when the Panda King walked in the room. Granted, it was always a wiser move to look at a person's record before making the move he did, but Blake's was full of holes and blanks they couldn't begin to fill. Years in the thieving business made Bentley the kind of expert who didn't lift a finger until he had all the facts. That was true enough as he didn't even lift his eyes from the tablet double and triple-checking his notes until turning back to him.
"That's how it is Sly. For now, he's benched." Bentley rolled away with that final word.
Sly stood there watching Bentley and wondering what that hidden angle in his brilliant mind was this time. Failing to grasp it as usual, he walked out the door. Yet he stopped by the raven sulking in the corner, grimacing as he heard the mutters beneath his feathers.
"Welcome to the big time…"
An errant rhino guard with flashlight in hand and bog breath from his nostrils was ever unaware as Sly's cane slipped into his pocket. Seconds later, it caught onto something and the raccoon hoisted it up. A bronze key landed in his hand amidst a few coins and jewels. The collective IQ and sense of security guards had for their pocket change was ever universal in stagnancy, but Sly didn't mind if it meant easy cash and a job done.
Though the bright sheen of foreign currency didn't have the effect it usually did on his spirits. It would have made a good first haul for a not-so-rookie thief sitting bored in the Safe House. Sly understood his position, as gung-ho and action ready as he was. He leapt to the next rooftop and stuffed his haul in his thigh pouch.
"How's it going, Sly?" Bentley's cracked voice came on the comm link.
"You need to ask? I'm halfway done now. With all the times I've done pick-pocketing, I'm surprised I'm not just going blindfolded."
"Now that I would pay money to see."
"Yeah, well, you could always see the new kid doing it." Sly swung inverted from a rope with tacky banners singing of sales in the market. Inverted, he hung down and yanked a key from another guard's pocket. "Never a bad idea to break in the new talent."
"It is when I have no idea what that aforementioned talent comprises…"
"Come on, Bentley! Blake could have done this no problem!" Sly was off and spire jumping on a pole and zip-lining down another rope. "You got me running ragged here!"
"Forget the blindfold thing–Sly Cooper complaining, now that's something for the Thievius Raccoonus." The fatigue in his tone was enough to send waves of static crashing. "Look Sly, I'm aware you think this kid's got what it takes. But swiping a few bean cans from a warehouse and taking down a criminal leader are two different things."
At a nearby wall facing the tallest spire, a device similar to a fuse box hummed and flashed with small lights, Sly reached into his backpack and fished out a blank pad, attaching it to the inner device. He fingered a button and the device hummed with a clear tone, buzzing and whirring to life. Lines of code appeared across the screen while scrambled feed came in, growing clearer by the second. Sly grinned and surveyed the streets, keeping out of the guards' sights before leaping away.
"Yet not all that different from sneaking into an underground waterway and taking photos."
"That was for reconnaissance, as I need to remind you of time and time again. It is vital for the mission."
"So grabbing a Binocucom and leaving it in the hands of a fourteen-year-old to point and click was too risky?" Two more devices were stuck at adjacent towers.
"Let me regale you with a 200-page essay written and cross-referenced by leading psychologists regarding the teenage impulse known as 'selfies…'"
"Oooh…" Sly seethed bracing. "Any chance you got a pamphlet version?"
As Sly took root in a palm tree by the river, a small trail of movement came from its surface. A blue blob emerged with beady green eyes and bubbles forming in front. Murray was in his element when it came to the water, keeping low and avoiding the sights of a line of guards placed at the docks. As the raccoon jumped, his hippo comrade bounced out onto the gangplank connecting to an old-fashioned riverboat with a jiggle of his girth.
Sly had snagged his fifth key by the time Murray had cut in on the coms, pounding metal and heavy punches coming in on his end. The raccoon could barely catch his words in the violence. "So, uh, not that I was thinking of dinner plans, there was this nagging question in my head as to what this was all about?"
"Okay, I'll run through it one more time." Bentley chimed with exhaustion. "Grimjaw's business runs on good illegally obtained from the black market and from merchandise taken from his competitors. At the same time, his business has diverted all resources, so his emporium is the only one in Timbuktu able to function. The goods he collects go off to his underground contacts, so we need to cut of his supply."
"You know, I had an idea as to who could help out. He may know something about supply and demand himself."
"Oh, for the love of-!"
Murray's voice was again muffled, this time by Bentley's fuming. "Guys?"
Bentley was making things difficult, and that was his job for the sake of challenge. Sly was chuckling in near frustration. "I'm just saying, in an operation like this, it helps to have every hand on deck."
"Again, you've seen what he can do, I can't! Look, if I send him to the convenience store to pick up some sodas for us, will that make you happy!?"
"Guys?" Murray crackled in again.
Now Bentley was being funny again. "I don't know, you seem to think using a camera triggers an impulse."
"I WILL read you that essay!"
"Guys!"
Murray all but yelled, though even his whisper could rile a stadium crowd. Nonetheless it had caught both the raccoon and turtle out of sorts and turned their attention to him. There was no surplus of security running through the streets so at the least he hadn't alerted the guards. Sly got back his bearings and turned his Binucucom's sights over to Murray, who was on the deck of Grimjaw's boat.
The hippo had been shuffling his feet, looking around and clenching his fists. He stumbled with his words, something that hadn't been seen since their gang's early days. "I, uh, was just… wanting to check with Bentley on where to smash up this boat."
"Not the boat, Murray. Just take out the lock keeping it chained to the dock."
Murray's jaw clenched but swallowed it and did as he was told. He hopped to the lock and with the might of a sledgehammer channeled in his fists, the lock shattered with two blows. Sly watched as he steered it away into the edge of the river onto a downward stream before the hippo dived back in for his next target. "You know you're really stretching us thin, here."
The line was blank.
His grin went cold on his face with his genius friend's uncharacteristic silence, the sign discussions were over. Bentley could have prime access to every secret in the bird boy's body and brain and it still would fail to sate the turtle's need for information. Yet even that side effect of facing demons in the mental and real worlds held no threat of jeopardizing the mission, of that Sly was sure. Bentley would leave no route unused, have a backup plan for backup plans, keep ahead of their opponents by three moves in a real-world chess game. Or at least, he was trying.
He would just have to hope Blake at least had a purpose as the backup for backup somewhere and paranoia was just that. As he placed the final device and it ran the signal back to the hideout, he pocketed the last key. The com link in his ear was given a light tap to see if Bentley hadn't just worn himself out. "All right, taskmaster. What do you got for me next?"
The line was still blank.
"Bentley? Something going on?"
Suddenly static screeched from the other end. Bentley's screaming came with it. "We got a problem here, Sly! Serious problems! I really don't like having problems!"
"All right, cool it." He placated the air. "What's the problem?"
"Blake! He's escaped from the Safe House!"
Thanks to everyone for their patience in waiting for this. And by that I mean about the 900 or so people who've just taken a look at my story and my 11 followers.
It was a bit of a challenge to come back to this after so long, as is the case when I bounce around stories. I am really thinking I should just start developing the habit of working on one story straight to its completion so people don't have to wait and I don't eventually lose interest. There are two more chapters I'll put into this story for now and then I will probably go back to focusing on my Skylanders story to its completion, as well as working on my next HTTYD fanfic. But that will be in the future.
So anyway, Sly and the gang come across their first villain. I tried to give it a feel similar to the games with the intro. The next chapters will be the gang's confrontation with Grimjaw. Each villain encounter will probably span about three chapters at a time.
As always, review, favorite, follow! And look forward to the series confirmed for release in 2019!