Sly Cooper and the Amnesiac Tag-Along - Chapter 10 - Serpentine Shenanigans
The rain continued to fall as Sly pressed forward to Mz. Ruby's skull keep. Having reached the end of the tunnel, he hopped onto a single tree branch ahead of him, noting the bark stripped off the top. He puffed his cheeks as he exhaled, relieved for a peaceful pathway. He dashed across the branch and hopped across to another one, twisting upward toward the top of the tree stump tunnel he had passed through.
Two deformed, trunk-like figures stood dormant on the top of the tree stump, forming a lump in Sly's throat. Swamp monsters, blocking the path Sly needed ahead. There was no way he could slip past; they were too close together, their shoulders almost touching. Twirling his cane in his hand, Sly surveyed the space, or lack thereof, on top of the tree stump. He knew as soon as he hopped off the branch he was balanced on, both would spring to life and charge. Personal space was a luxury he would barely afford with those two monstrosities.
Unless he drew them forward, found an opening and darted through. A smirk returned to his face.
Yes, that could work!
He leapt off the branch and was greeted by the thundering sound of the swamp monsters springing to life, taking one menacing step after another towards the thief. He backed up towards the left side of the stump and stood his ground. The pair lumbered towards him, his window to escape growing narrower and narrower-
There!
Sly ran across the top of the stump, before launching into a somersault as one of the swamp monsters swung a thick arm at him. He rolled on the other side and immediately sprung to his feet. As the swamp monsters began to turn, Sly knew he was running out of time. He sprinted to the edge of the stump, where a torch illuminated a green, moss-coated platform. Sly sprung onto that and spied an outpost ahead, sharpened tree trunks tied together to form a wall, designed to stop intruders climbing over the top. Hearing the swamp monsters close in behind him, the thief took a leap of faith.
As Sly moved forward into his dive, he slipped on the slick moss underfoot and slid off the ledge. He tumbled towards the grassy bank of the camp and bounced twice before skidding to a stop. He rolled onto his back, feeling the rain tumble onto his face. Feeling the sharp pain in his shoulder subside, he sat up, taking in his surroundings. He looked up at the platform he fell from, and saw his gaze met by the two swamp monsters he duped. Their yellow eyes glared at him. He stared back. After a minute or so, the two creatures skulked off.
Sly pulled himself to his feet, spying a tall, brown water rat wearing a bone necklace and watching from his post atop the fence. Sly ducked behind a nearby rock before the rat's gaze swung back to his general direction. The rat was armed with a long staff with a skull mounted on the top. An eerie glow was emitted from the skull. A more cautious examination of the guard showed Sly he had a candle on top of his head, the melted wax trickled down the guard's snout.
To Sly's left was a crop of long grass leading all the way to the base of the wall on the left. Making slow movements as to not draw the guard's attention, Sly slithered through the grass. He shuffled until he reached the stone head of what resembled an elephant, flecks of moss coating its face, orange eyes burning through the darkness. Sly shuddered; its unwavering stare gave him the creeps.
He reached for the brow of the statue for a handhold, grasped one, and heaved himself up. He flattened himself against the tree trunk wall and quietened his breathing out of fear of alerting the guard inches away from him. He took a side step across the planks nailed against the wall and waited, his ears listening out for the guard's movements. After a few moments, Sly heard the guard shuffle away, and sprang into action. He inched his way across the ledge to the other side and hopped up onto the platform. He peered over the edge and felt his heart sink.
A guard encampment, with several guards patrolling the pathways between the round tents. With a nervous twitch of his tail, he watched as the guards moved throughout the camp, their routes overlapping. He spotted a stone path at the end of the camp which rose up toward a twisted gate, its wooden doors framed by the metallic frame of a bat skeleton, its wings outstretched on either side. No doubt it was locked but looked simple enough to climb over. Sly knew that was the easy part. The tricky part was slipping past eight guards without getting spotted.
Looking ahead, Sly noted how brightly-lit the camp was, and how little cover there was aside from the tents. He yearned for someone else to create a distraction on one side of the camp, allowing him to slip past on the other side. He knew once Dougie's ribs healed, he would try to convince her to start joining him in the field for their next capers.
He couldn't help but note that the incident in Mesa hadn't turned her away from coming out, if anything it made her hungrier for the challenge. Take the swamp monster, for example: if she could move properly, she would have made it to Sly's position with relative ease and quick timing. And she wanted to. He could sense that the last two jobs of waiting around, twitching and chain-smoking was beginning to take its toll on her. He was certain if she wasn't nursing broken ribs, she would be doing multiple sets of sit-ups, press-ups and various other floor exercises as he discovered she worked out almost religiously between the Wales and Mesa City jobs.
Sly dismissed those thoughts and returned to reality, knowing there was no point in dwelling on what it would be like to have someone with him right now. He had to decide, and fast.
There.
He saw on the right-hand side of the camp there was a path that was (for now) unguarded. The guard who was responsible for watching from the overlook, and had failed miserably, had engaged in conversation with two of the guards from the camp, pulling them away from their patrol routes and general activities throughout the site. Not wanting to waste a precious second of this golden opportunity, Sly slid down the ramp into the camp and took a sharp right. He kept low and made delicate but quick steps to cover as much ground as quietly as he could.
He bypassed the distracted guards and pressed on to the gate, relieved that the trickier part of the challenge was behind him.
Now that's... a big gate, Sly's mind absently murmured as the thief gazed upwards. Opening the gate would attract a lot of unwanted attention. The big gate was visible from the camp and Sly knew he would get caught within seconds if he tried climbing it. He knew there was no time to wait around for a change in patrol schedule. For all he knew, that could be hours from now.
His options were either to open the gate or to climb it. Climbing it was a risky choice since the visibility from the camp was decent despite the weather. However, the noise from opening it would attract the entire camp to his position. The first option seemed to be the better one, and if he climbed quick enough, he wouldn't get spotted.
Sly threw a quick glance over his shoulder to check the guards' positions within the camp. The distracted trio he slipped by had increased in numbers, with now six guards talking loudly, their laughs and jokes stabbing through the quiet night air.
Reassured that he had a window to work with, Sly climbed up the gate, and slipped over onto the other side.
"Well, I'm bored," Dougie declared as she stood up and began pacing inside the van for the third time in the last thirty minutes. "I don't get how you guys have spent years being able to just wait and see if Sly will come back alive or not. This wait is driving me insane."
Bentley offered a weak shrug. "It's just the way we've always done things. He's our field man."
Dougie returned with a disapproving shake of her head. "'The way we've always done things' is a very dangerous phrase. Besides, Mesa showed that we need multiple operatives. If Sly got gunned down in Mesa because no one decided to run in for support, then what? Put it this way: I think the world is outpacing your methods."
"You might be right," Bentley agreed, albeit slowly. "Once we've finished with the Fiendish Five, we can see what's next for us and plan a new approach."
"Wonderful!" Dougie said cheerily, crooked half-smile emerging. She flicked her curls out of her face before continuing. "And I'll drag you out with me if I have to."
"-what?!"
"It'll be good for you, it'll make you come out of your shell, metaphorically. Trust me, this time next year you'll be a field man. You too, big guy."
"Right on!" Murray piped up from the driver's seat. "I've always wanted to be more than just a getaway driver..." he continued, trailing off sheepishly.
"Mesa City proved you're the right man for the job," Dougie said approvingly before turning to Bentley. "Just, think about it, okay? This modus operandi feels a little primitive, and it'll be only a matter of time until Inspector Fox decides to go for the team van instead of Sly. Let's face it, we're sitting ducks."
"And you just want to be out in the field?"
"And I just want to be out in the field. The suspense is killing me. Even if I didn't have broken ribs, I would still be sat here, twiddling my thumbs. And I just want to play with the swamp monsters." She broke into a large grin, one Bentley found infectious and adorable. He felt his heart somersault into his stomach and then swing up, jamming itself in his throat.
He yearned for his internal monologue of what next? to be answered. Only three more members of the Fiendish Five to go until he found out. Part of him didn't want to know. She was almost definitely going to start piecing things together over the next few weeks, and most likely decide to head home. Maybe she would remember that she also had a boyfriend waiting for her too. Bentley felt ice travel through his veins.
That's a possibility I never considered. He continued tapping away at his laptop as that thought echoed in his head, again and again, taunting and mocking him. That would be a line of questioning Bentley felt would be best to leave until their return to the hideout.
The swamp's dark centre sent shivers down Sly's spine. The mix of low lighting, overhanging trees, and flickering torches were far from inviting for the raccoon. He navigated a twisting series of vines, sliding down to the main grounds. He paused, taking in the environment and watching for guard patrols. Thankfully, he spotted their torch lights in the distance; this area was too exposed. A single patrol would spot him in seconds.
He scanned to his left and saw another twisted gate, similar in size to the one he had just scaled over. The glimmering spikes poised on top suggested that climbing over was not an option this time. A glance to the right offered another, almost identical gate, with stagnant, murky swamp water enclosed behind it. Searching ahead, Sly saw a couple of hollows ahead, the entrances partially concealed by overgrown brush. Two light shone through the foliage, advertising the presence of two guards in the vicinity.
As much as it pained him to admit it, Sly thought his best path would be to delve deeper into the swamp and find another way around. He scampered across the centre of the base, trying to stick to the twisted, inert cover of the giant stone fountain in the middle. Satisfied the coast was clear, he pressed on, coming across a loose vine dangling down from the foliage. He gave it a slight tug to test whether it could take his weight, before heaving himself up it. He continued climbing until he was level with an outstretched branch. He shifted his weight onto the branch, releasing the vine. He watched as the guard patrolled below him; as long as he didn't make any noise, he wouldn't look up.
Perfectly balanced, Sly scurried along the branch, finding himself in front of a stone opening towering over him. With a deep breath and a nervous twitch of his tail, he ventured inside.
Murray was nervously drumming on his steering wheel, the tapping filling the van and getting on Bentley's last nerve.
"Murray, quit it," Bentley groaned, massaging his head with one hand. "You're giving me a headache."
"Sorry pal," he returned sheepishly. "I just hate the waiting too. I wish I could be out there, helping Sly."
Dougie's ears pricked at hearing this, and tapped at the passenger-side window, which had been cracked open to allow some airflow into the van. Murray rolled it down, and she leaned through, arms crossed over where the window had receded. "You know we'd both still be here if I didn't have broken ribs, right? There's no chance we'd be able to tackle those vines."
"Well, I couldn't-"
"-and neither can I, not to Sly's level. I'd manage a couple and end up in the drink. Next time an opportunity comes along, we'll head out, alright? I'll definitely need muscle to watch my back."
"Alright," Murray nodded, satisfied with the resolution. "Drowning doesn't sound like my idea of fun anyway."
"Preach, brother." Dougie extended a closed fist, received the bump from Murray, and disappeared out the window. A quick cigarette count showed four remaining. With four hours of calm remaining, she knew she would start getting twitchy by hour five. She silently hoped Sly would be finished and back in the van by then, otherwise her irritability would be in overdrive. The guilt was gnawing away at her at the best of times; being smokeless would ironically add fuel to the fire. She exhaled deeply as she leaned against the side of the van, taking in her surroundings. The humidity made breathing and moving unpleasant, and she could feel her shirt sticking to her. The thought of finally having a shower was a tantalising one.
Her thoughts were interrupted with Sly's voice singing through her earpiece, prompting the gang to check out another large gate he encountered. Dougie made her back inside the van to check out the visual feed.
"What's with this industrial-strength voodoo gate?" Bentley queried as she stepped into the vehicle. She spied the gate in question on Bentley's screen. The thick metal bars towered over the raccoon he had to pan his binocucom upwards. A stone head was attached at the top, its large eyes glowing a deep, rich orange from the torch lit within its mouth. "Mz. Ruby must really be trying to keep something out."
"Or maybe..." Sly commented nervously, "she's trying to keep something in!"
"Rather you than me, bud," Dougie quipped as she wrinkled her nose. "Let me tell ya, anything that needs a gate that sturdy to contain something can stay the hell away from me!"
"Thanks for the motivation, Doug," Sly replied dryly. She could almost hear the eye roll over the comms link. "I can always rely on you to cheer me up."
"Happy to help. Just don't go dying on me, otherwise I might start feeling an obligation to finish this quest of yours."
"I'll try my best."
"That's all I can ask."
And with that, Sly cut the call, staring helplessly up at the gate that towered before him, two thick, trees framing either side. The tree to the right of the gate had a branch from another tree twisting around it, spiralling up the trunk. The bark on the top of the branch had been worn away, no doubt from various creatures perching on or scrambling up it.
Sly adjusted the straps on his backpack before stepping towards the branch. It looked thick enough to support his weight, and placing a foot on it supported that. He rested his other foot on the branch and steadily stepped his way up to the top. To his dismay, he couldn't find a way over the gate from this side. Scanning along the top of the wall, he saw an opening. However, it was above the opposite tree, which so happened to have no easy access from the ground.
A quick glance upwards offered Sly a way across: a twisted, overgrown branch protruding over the gate. The branch twisted into a hook-like shape, which would allow a cane to sit snugly within. Looking ahead, Sly spotted another branch jutting through the bars of the gate, and a third twisting over the top of the wall. He just hoped nothing would snap underfoot.
One problem at a time, he scolded himself. With a deep breath, the thief threw himself towards the hook, feeling the pull in his shoulder confirming his cane had latched on securely. Manipulating his momentum, he continued swinging back and forth until he had enough height. With a twitch of his shoulder, Sly unhooked the cane and landed on the second branch, the appendage barely twitching from the raccoon's landing. Not wasting a moment to congratulate himself on his finesse, he leapt to the next branch and darted up it, passing over the wall.
He landed on the foliage of a nearby tree and scanned the surrounding swamp. What could be here that needed this level of physical security? Something valuable? Was this where Mz. Ruby had stashed her part of the Thievius Raccoonus? No, somehow Sly didn't think so: not a single guard patrolled this area. Normally, he would be relieved by this. Instead, it tickled his nerves.
He noted the slick, slimy vine at his feet and hopped on. He slid through the swamp, noting the various decaying and twisted flora pass by, the shape of their ominous branches distorted by the low, flickering lighting of the nearby torches. He could taste the dread on his tongue as he slid to the base of another tree, framed by a flaming torch. The flickering light illuminated the fine flecks of drizzle in the air. A thick, bulbous spider dangled from a strand of web nearby, swaying gently in the breeze. Judging from its size, Sly decided it would be best not to get too close.
He scooted around the spider and pressed on. He climbed up a tree and leapt across the canopy, nimbly hopping from branch to branch. After several spectacular leaps, Sly found he was running out of foliage to work with as he came closer and closer to the surface of the murky, putrid swamp water. He paused to survey his surroundings, noticing a few logs scattered in the water ahead. He heaved himself to the first log, balancing himself so he didn't topple into the green gunk surrounding him. He prepped himself for a second jump-
-twitching from the reeds nearby caught Sly's attention.
Did... did those reeds move?
He continued to stare at the vegetation, now sitting almost perfectly still. The thief rolled his eyes, annoyed with himself for being so jumpy. Of course it was only the wind. He watched the various branches bob to and fro in the quiet night air. Sly spotted another tree on the other side of the water, and for peace of mind, decided the best approach would be to go up.
It didn't take long until the raccoon began mentally scolding himself for following this path. He knew it was taking him further and further away from Mz. Ruby's lair and he figured he'd end up circling back around to the team van. He spotted the glow of two flame torches ahead. The plan was to get to solid ground, gather his bearings and find a way back. The raccoon continued, the glow of the torches seeming more ominous than inviting.
A heavy feeling began to settle in his chest when he realized he had messed up coming this way.
Savouring the slight relief that rushed through him upon his feet meeting solid ground, Sly leaned against a tree. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he gazed upwards, the dark grey-green sky doing little to lift his spirits. He mapped out a makeshift pathway ahead, mentally connecting branches and vines together.
I knew I should've tried the other gates first!
Now he had to begin the fatiguing slog back to the main base and try again. Kicking himself for wasting the precious minutes of nightfall, he straightened himself up and began to press on. Except a twitching of long grass and some bubbling in the water stopped the thief in his tracks. Sly froze and stared at the spot until the bubbles dispersed. This wasn't his nerves getting the better of him; he knew he saw something that time. He had to pull himself away, the tiny voice in his head telling him to get moving. He took two steps before all hell broke loose: a gigantic serpent, decorated with yellow and red scales, chose to reveal itself, swamp water raining down onto the tiny raccoon below.
The serpent's red eyes trained onto the thief, water dripping off its lengthy, razor-sharp fangs. It towered over him, motionless.
And Sly didn't dare move a muscle. The surrounding chorus of insects and birds had fallen silent and still. Maybe, just maybe, its vision was based on movement? If he stayed perfectly still, maybe it would go away...
The swamp beast reared its head upwards, and unleashed a deep, deafening roar.
The roar reverberated across the swamp, causing Dougie to bolt upright. The open paperback that was resting on her knee listlessly fell to the floor of the van. Dougie made no movement to retrieve it.
"What the hell was that?" she uttered in an urgent half-whisper, glancing cautiously around the van. "Please tell me you heard that."
Bentley nodded, his face failing to mask his nervousness. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the source of the sound was. The more he dwelled on it, the more of an abomination his imagination conjured up.
"What do you think it is?" she continued as she delicately played with her lip ring.
As much as it pained him to not have the facts, Bentley offered his answer: "I don't know."
"It sounded big."
"Indeed."
"It's gotta be a big swamp monster, surely? We know creatures like that exist now..."
"Perhaps."
"Do you reckon we're safe here?"
"Maybe. It definitely sounded like there's a distance between us and whatever that... thing was."
"And Sly?"
"Maybe we should ask him..."
It was Dougie who took the lead in activating the comms link this time. "Sly? We've just heard a loud roar ring across the swamp. Are you doing okay?"
"Uh... sure," he responded flatly.
"Really? Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Talk to me." She raised a sceptical eyebrow as she shot a quick glance towards Bentley, who was also listening.
"Uh, myself... just... staring at a massive... swamp serpent..." he uttered weakly. Dougie's face creased in confusion, disbelief, and finally horror.
"... a what?!"
"No time to talk, gotta move!" he sharply signed off, before making a beeline for the nearest trail of vines ahead.
"Sly? Sly?!" Dougie cried, the sound of her clipped voice almost drowned out by another ear-splitting roar from the beast. Darting from vine, to branch, to land, and back to branch, the raccoon felt the adrenaline course through his veins as he executed every leap and landing with pinpoint accuracy, his momentum pushing him onwards, the sound of foliage breaking behind him spurring him on.
Step, and land, and jump, and step, step and variations of this played in Sly's head. He was locked into a rhythm and had tuned out the spindly branches brushing against his face and the increasing rainfall soaking into his shirt. He couldn't quite ignore the snaking beast on his heels, but it was definitely a good motivator to keep moving. He leapt onto a slippery vine and slid throughout the swamp's greenery, the soles of his boots skimming the surface of the stagnant water.
Searching ahead, Sly saw the jagged top of another gate, framed by dull greenish-grey brick on either side. Reaching solid ground, he sprinted towards the metal gate, his lungs aching, his chest tight. Despite the agony, the thought of his serpentine pursuer behind him spurred him onwards, picking up his pace.
Merely steps away from the gate is when the thief dived to one side. The beast didn't anticipate its prey's sudden change in direction and launched forwards, crashing into the gate and tearing the metal from its hinges. Bricks rained around Sly, who covered his head to protect himself from the hardened clay shower.
The beast, having lost track of Sly, seemed to understand it had escaped from captivity. Sly spied the same fountain that had been the centre of Mz. Ruby's lair, and immediately had his bearings again. He watched as the beast reared upwards, emitted a deafening roar, and propelled itself across to the gate on the other side, the flick of its tail raining water onto Sly below. The beast crashed through the gate like it was tissue paper, before swimming to what Sly assumed to be freedom.
Pulling himself to his feet, Sly took a moment to rest as he leaned against his cane. Every breath he made was a laboured mixture of fear and adrenaline exiting his system. Once all his limbs and tail were accounted for, he pressed on, mentally vowing to keep to himself how close that encounter was.
He didn't want to admit to Bentley that was he almost a snake snack.
Hello all!
Sorry it's been a while - been busy with a few bits and pieces and haven't had much time to sit down and write (at least, nowhere near enough time to focus properly).
I had some pretty bad writer's block when I was writing the first Mesa City chapter all those years ago, and I'm glad that I've shifted it (for the most part) and resumed working on this story. I don't have any plans to shelve this series considering I've got everything planned for the next two games. The fact that we're halfway through Mz. Ruby's section is something I never expected to see.
Please stick around if you'd like to see more!
Until the next chapter,
~Subtle.