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Paris, France. Cooper Gang Hideout. 7:30 PM Local Time.

Murray parks the Cooper van into the hideout's garage and closed the door. As Murray began to take some of the canadian treasures out of the van, Dimitri came to greet them.

"Cooper! Long time, no meeting!" he welcomed them.

"Perfect english as always, Dimitri." Sly told him.

"I don't get it." answered a confused Dimitri.

Sly chuckled and said "You're not supposed to. Anyway, you recognize any of Inspector Fox's new cops?"

Dimitri shook his head and answered "Sorry. I have been locked up like bad hound-doggie all over the place, but I have never seen any of these piggie-wiggies."

"Drat!" responded Bentley, using the arms on his wheelchair to help carry some more loot into their stash. "It's like Carmelita and Webb just BUILT those cops!"

Murray, almost dropping his handfull of loot, asked "Are you suggesting that Inspector Fox's new cops are CYBORGS?!?! COOL!"

"No Murray, it's a metaphor." explained Bentley, as he and Murray walked inside.

"Huh?" asked Murray, which Bentley responded to with a sigh.

"But.." began Dimitri, which Sly responded to with a "But what?"

"But, I did find two things that you, the Murray and the green dude might enjoy."

"Go on." insisted Sly.

"First, for you, I found some pictures of that cop chick you like when she did some modeling get get through cop school."

Yanking the pictures out of Dimitri's hands and putting them in his backpack for later, Sly told him "Thank you, Dimitri."

"No worries, my sibling from different parents." answered Dimitri. "Anyway, the other thing is on the TV. I was cruising for the hippity-hoppity music channel, when the lameo news people have something good on, for change of pace. Look!" Dimitri pointed at the television, which showed a red lemur announcing somthing.

"Our top story of the hour, the re-election of the Irish town of Pól Suileabháin's (*note: I made that name up with a name generator, so if it's similer to any real Irish town names, it's just a coincidence) mayor, Mick Flanagan (*note: also a name I made up with a generator), who has been controversial in Irish politics for enforcing a prohibition on root beer, which is considered an outdated law in most parts of the world and a cause for criminals to get rich off of speakeasies."

Soon, Bentley and Murray had joined in to watch as well, having finished puting all the loot away. Sly stared at the screen and hung on every word.

"Oh, I know that look." said Murray. "That's the look you get when you have an idea for a heist, I can tell. Let me geuss, that Flanagan guy wouldn't just ban root beer if it's got such a root in Irish culture and history, and it would just mean criminals would just get fat off of making their own stuff. So, he must be making money off of the speakeasies, right?"

"You got it, Murray." answered Sly.

"Sweet!" shouted Murray, pumping his fist down.

"And," added Dimitri, "I even have a safehouse you can chill-out from the coppers. It's a house I stay in when I'm up there."

"What's a diver doing in Ireland?" asked Sly.

"Well Sly," answered Bentley, "While the waters of the north atlantic might be chilly, that part of the Irish costline has quite a number of things to offer for a diver willing to brave the cold, dark waters."

"Hey, you yanked away my lightning, green bro!" Dimitri told him, shaking his fist. "Anyway, he's right. There are sunken old boats, old chests filled with the old-timely bling-bling and lot's of the carrot-topped girls that dig Dimitri and his deep, underwater tales." added Dimitri, with a chuckle at the last part.

"I'm going to try to NOT think about that and focus on the corrupt mayor." explained Sly.

"Whatever, alligator," Dimitri told him, "Here are the keys. I will watch your crib like a nanny goat while you are gone. Maybe check out the canuck nicky-knacks you grabbed."

As the gang went to the van, Sly told him "OK, but remember, if you take anything, Murray will turn you into a pair of boots."

As Sly hopped into the van, Dimitri shouted "If that did happen, at least I would be a stylin' pair of booties! See ya'!" On that note, the van sped off, bring the gang on their way to another heist.

...

Pól Suileabháin, Ireland. Country road 84. 6:00 AM local time.

The Cooper gang's van moves steadily down a country road just outside the small village. The moors are off in the distance, but the misty fog still covers the ground up to the shore line this early in the morning. Sly sticks his head out the window and breathes in the salty sea air.

"Ahh," he sighs contently, "I've got to say, I love Ireland. Such a peaceful countryside, nice people, gentle music. Maybe we should come here when we retire, if we get around to retiring."

"Same here." agreed Murray, "Even if it is hard to drive, this is one of the nicest looking places we have ever been."

"To be honest," said Bentley, "Most of the places we've visted were pretty picturesque."

"Well, it's see, there was Miz Ruby's swamp.." began Sly.

"That valcano that Clockwerk was hiding out in..." added Murray, starting a back and forth with him and Sly listing places.

"The Contessa's prison and castle were more creepy then pretty." recalled Sly.

"Arpeggio's Blimp was kind of a draw."

"Well," Bentley explained, "I did say MOST of the places we've been." Murray turned off the road down to a small yet steep trail that led down to Dimitri's beach house. As expected, it was painted in deep purple and had all sorts of disco and hip-hop stuff that kind of clashed with the shoreline. Murray parked the van outback and covered it with a tarp so it wouldn't be seen.

"You sure that no one will spot us here?" asked Sly. "Even if there were some other beach houses here, Dimitri's place would still stick out like a sore thumb."

"Don't worry Sly," answered Bentley, bringing some of his things to the beach house. "It's pretty out-of-the-way, so not many people would come looking this far out of town. Plus, the people around here aren't the nosey types, so it's not like they would be looking for anything anyway. As long as we aren't to obvious, we should be fine."

"That's never a problem for us." bragged Sly.

"Holy macaroni!" shouted Murray, pointing out to sea and the large, dark fin sticking out of the water. "Look at the size of that thing! I've never seen a shark that big!"

"Don't worry, Murray." Bentley told him. "It's just a basking shark. They are larger relatives of great whites, but they are just gentle filter-feeders. Hmm....maybe we could find a way of using that shark as part of our operation....."

"While you think about that, I'm going to take some recon photos while I still have the cover of the fog." said Sly.

"OK, we will radio in when we are finished setting up." Bentley told him as Sly used his Cane to scale the side of the cliff (which is much faster then the road).

...

A little while later, after Sly had pretty much walked halfway back to town, which he didn't find as much fun as leaping between rooftops like he usually did, he heard a loud rumbling under his feet.

About then, Bentley radioed in "Come in Sly-wait a moment, I think there is something wrong with the connection. I hear some noise."

"No, the Binocucom is working fine, Bentley." Sly told him. "There is some rumbling underneath the ground by the road."

"Very peculier." noted Bentley. "I should investigate this later. Just hold on a second while I lock in you're coordinates....There we go, now try to take some more photos."

Sly, after finally walking into town, sneaked around, taking photo's of the hidden speakeasies around the town. He could tell the tell-tale signs thanks to the part of the Thievius Raccoonus written by infamous bootlegging operation buster (in the classic Cooper fashion, of course), Jerry "the Chicago Sneak" Cooperwitz.

There were four speakeasies in the town: one inside an old warehouse, a second in the basement of a pet store, a third in an alley behind a pawn shop, and a fourth (as well as the largest) inside the town dining hall after hours.

"OK Bentley, I found all the speakeasies in town." radioed Sly.

"Great." said Bentley. "Now just get a photo of Mick Flanagan at town hall. If you're lucky, he might just be talking to one of the speakeasy owners."

"Whenever am I unlucky?" asked Sly as he headed on his way to town hall. He managed to sneak into town hall and make it to Flanagen's office. Inside, he noticed Flanagen, a clean cut, well groomed otter talking to a dirtier, gruffer otter.

"Nice work getting re-elected, mayor Flanagen." the gruffer otter told him in a thick Irish brogue. "Here's your cut of the speakeasies's profits." he added, tossing a stack of cash onto the table.

"Shh." hushed mayor Flanagan, who spoke with a much more clear accent "I don't wan't anyone to hear us!"

"Brother, brother. For years now, it's been the same class deal: you ban the scoops, I supply the nice folks with root beer, I make a scatter of cash, give some to you, and everyone thinks you're great instead of being a tool with a giant ego."

"Well, you don't have to brag about it." Mick told his brother.

His brother chuckled and told him, "I am Finbar Flanagan. There are few things that can keep me gob shut. 'Ell, if I could, I would toss a cup of scald into the queen's face, 'less there be a nice beour who wanted me not to."

His brother sighed and told him "Just go back to the rock you live under, Finbar."

"HA!" shouted Finbar, as Sly took the photo then sneaked away, having gotten all the info he needed, "I got you wrapped around me finger! I will leave when I want to!" After a short pause, he added " Now I leave!" as he walked out.

Once Sly got back to the safehouse, the fog started to lift. Sly walked in and tossed Bentley his Binocucom, who catched it with one of his chair's arms.

"Nice catch, Bentley." complemented Sly.

"Thanks, I've been practicing." said Bentley. "Now to start to plan out what we are going to do."

...

Later that night, Bentley went to the spot where Sly had heard the rumbling.

"I can tell from the noise that you found the spot." Sly told him over the Binocucom.

Bentley radioed back "Yep. From what I can guess, there must be some machinery underground. There has got to be some sort of hidden entrance around here someplace."

"Try one of the rocks. Maybe one of them is what you're looking for." suggested Sly.

"Well, that one over there sure does look odd." noted Bentley, zooming in on a rock in the distance. He wheeled over to it, then pushed down on one part of the rock, causing it to shift over. Underneath was a stair case that lead underground. Bentley wheeled down the stairs and sneaked around. He noticed two siberian huskies with flashlights and AK 47's guarding a hallway.

One of the guards, in a russian accent, asked."You know, Alexei, I don't get why the boss has hired us to watch over this brewery. I mean, it's underground in middle of nowhere. It's as pointless as guarding grass so it can grow."

The other answered back "Oleg, if I told you once, I am telling you a thousand times, it's just in case something happens. You know, insurance."

"But who could-" began Oleg, as one of Bentley's darts hit him in the neck, knocking him out. Before Alexei could respond, he got hit by one of Bentley's darts too.

Wheeling past the guards, Bentley wondered to himself "What are russian guards doing here? Oh well, no time for that now, I only have a few minutes before those guards wake up."

When he got into the room at the end of the hall, he found a bunch of vats and pipes full of root beer.

"My gosh!" shouted Bentley, "It's the Flanagan's entire brewery! If I place this bomb right here, I could stop them right in their tracks!" Bentley placed a bomb inbetween the vats. As it started to beep, Bentley wheeled out of there as fast as he could. Just as he got back above ground (and as the guards were waking back up), the bomb went up, destroying the vats of root beer. The root beer spilled into the underground tunnel and sweeped up the two gaurds. The blast also sent root beer flying upwards, causing more of it to spill over the ground and down to the side of the cliff.

"Oh, we are so dead." said Oleg.

"You think?" Alexei asked sarcastically.

As Bentley returned to the safehouse, he noticed Sly and Murray looking at the root beer spilling off the rim off the cliff.

Sly clapped and told Bentley "Some of your best work yet, Bentley."

"Thanks Sly, and tomarrow, I have a plan for you and Murray....."

...

The next day, 1:00 PM local time.

Murray and Sly were in disguise as locals. Sly had his Binocucom open.

"You two all set?" asked Bentley over the Binocucom.

"All set, Bentley." answered Sly.

"OK, remember guys, you are looking for Patrick O'Ryan, Finbar's right hand man. He should know where the speakeasies keep their money."

"Got it, Bentley." said Murray. "Oh, quiet down, here he comes now."

Sly and Murray walked over to Patrick, a short badger.

"Excuse me," Sly told him, in a irish accent, "But are you Patrick O'Ryan?"

"Aye." he answered, in a deep voice. "What's it to ya'?"

"The same Patrick O'Ryan that's friend's with Finbar Flanagan?" asked Murray, in a terrible Irish accent.

"Aye. What's with all the questions?" he responded, this time in a more suspicious tone.

"We have a little 'proposition' for you. If you would just come with us..." Sly told him.

Patrick shoved Sly out of the way and told them "Piss off, I don't go with no one who puts qoutes around words like that. That always means someone's double talking, and I won't stand for no double talking."

Using his normal voice, Sly told Murray "Looks like he wants to do this the hard way, Murray."

"What the bloody-" began Patrick before Murray knocked him out.

A few minutes later, Patrick woke up and saw that he, Sly and Murray were out on the water in a row boat.

"What do yeah think you're gonna do, ya' tossers?" he asked.

"Depends." answered Sly.

"On what?" said Patrick

"On if you tell us where Flanagan keeps the money to the speakeasies. You tell us, we bring you back to land. You don't, we throw you into the water."

"HA!" shouted Patrick, "There's no current, no undertow, I'm a great swimmer, the shore's only a few metres away, and I don't mind getting a little cold. I knew kids in preschool who made scarier threats then that."

"You forgot the shark." noted Sly.

"Oh yeah, and the shar-" began Patrick, before realizing that Sly said 'shark', "Wait, shark?!?" He looked out into the water to see a giant dorsal fin sticking out of the water. He started to panic.

"You want to talk now, Patrick?" asked Sly.

"OK, OK, I'll tell ya'! Just don't hurt me! I have a wife!" Patrick pleaded, "All of the speakeasies have a safe in the office! The Flanagan's are going to be celebrating at the dining hall tonight, so you should be able to get in then! Now let me go!"

Before they could bring him back, Murray stood up and shouted "Yes, we did it!" This caused the boat to toss and turn.

"Murray, be careful!" Sly warned him, clinging onto his side of the boat. Patrick, meanwhile, wasn't so lucky, falling into the water. He splashed around and paniced as he saw the large, black fin heading towards him.

"Oh god, it's heading for me! Sweet mother of Jesus!" Patrick screamed, trying to tread water and waving his arms. He could see the fish swimming closer and closer, starting to make out it's black, beady eyes, it's pointed snout and it's wide open mouth. Patrick started to pray silently. He opened his a bit to see the shark didn't have any sharp teeth. In fact, it didn't seem to have any teeth at all, and it just swam by him without even noticing him.

"Oh thank goodness, it's toothless." he said with a sigh of relief. His relief soon turned into rage as he grabbed onto on of the boat's oars. He shouted "It's bloody toothless! You gawk chancers, I'll bloody make you wish that thing did eat me!" Murray stomped onto the end of the oar, causing Patrick to go flying out of the water and back into town. "You sons of bbbiiiiiitttttccccchhheessss!" he screamed as he flew into the distance.

"That was a close one." said Murray. "Sorry about knocking him into the water, Sly."

"It's alright Murray." Sly told him. "Now lets go tell Bentley to get everything set up."

...

Later that night. 8:30 PM local time.

Sly had just finished cracking the safe to the pet store speakeasy. He tossed the money to Bentley, who handed it to Murray, who put it in the van with the money from the last two safes, about 8000 Euros. Sly jumped out the window.

"Man, this heist has been so easy." said Murray, excitedly. "With everyone at the dining hall, we could do this with an arm tide behind our backs!"

"Not so fast, Murray, we still have one more loose end to tie up. We have to go to the dining hall." explained Sly.

"Sure thing, Sly." answered Murray as he drove the van to the dining hall. To go unoticed, he parked the van out back. Sly went up to the back door and opened the lock with a key he pickpoketed from Finbar earlier. The three sneaked inside.

"According to this blueprint," Bentley told Sly, reading the blueprint by flashlight, "the office should be right down that hallway." The trio broke in and Sly started to crack the safe. Murray and Bentley stood guard at the door that led to the dining hall.

Meanwhile, in the hall, there was a party celebrating Mick Flanagan's re-election. The party was a mix of the loyal speak-easy patrons and some of the thugs on Finbar's payroll. Finbar got up to make a toast, tapping his glass with his fork. The room grew silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "Tonight we celebrate a great buck, me brother mayor Mick Flanagan!" A loud cheer echoed throught the hall as Finbar continued, "For without him, I wouldn't be making more money then most middle school dropouts could dream of!" The crowd cheered again as Finbar pulled a euro out of his pocket. "So, as I put this euro in the safe, let us tost....to the clan Flanagan!"

" To the clan Flanagan!" the crowd cheered, drinking their drinks as Finbar rushed up the staircase to get to the office.

"Sly, hurry up, Finbar is coming!" rushed Bentley.

"I almost got it Bentley, but this safe has a really complex code." explained Sly.

"I've got this!" exclaimed Murray, as Finbar started to open the door. Murray answered back with a strong punch, sending Finbar flying across the room, landing on a table, causing it to collapse under his weight. Slym meanwhile, opened the vault and shoved half of the money is the safe in his pockets while Bentley took the other half and put it in the storage space in his wheelchair.

"What the bloody 'ell was that?" asked a dazed Finbar, getting back onto his feet.

"Karma happened, Finbar." answered Sly, as he jumped down onto the dining room floor. Murray and Bentley walked down the stairs. "Karma for you and your brother's twisted opperation are history."

"Oi, you're the gobshites that tried to feed me to that gummy shark!" shouted Patrick, pulling out a basball bat. "I'm going to make you're head more smashed then half the people in here!" Finbar pulled out a pistol from inside his jacket and aimed it at the gang.

"Finbar, what in the name of County Cork are you doing?!?!" shouted Mick, surpised at what his brother would do in front of so many witnesses.

"Something some other crook should have done a long time ago." explained Finbar.

"No one shoots at that raccoon but me!" shouted Carmelita, taking off her disguise, along with Webb and

Khumalo, armed with a submachine gun and a shotgun, respectively.

"Man, I have NEVER been this glad to see Interpol in my entire life!" said Murray with a sigh of relief.

"Shit, it's a raid!" shouted one of the guests, as they all made a break for it.

"Shouldn't you be trying to stop them?" asked Mick.

"The entire village is surrounded by police, there is no getting out without handcuffs." Carmelita explained smugly.

"Read off the list, Khumalo." said Webb.

Khumalo took out his little black book and announced "Flanagans, you are under arrest for corruption, bootlegging, illegal production of root beer, illegal distribution of root beer, illegal use of public property and attempted murder. And Cooper gang, well, you already know what we want you for."

"Not so fast, lady. No shades are taking me in!" shouted Finbar, snapping his fingers, causing tens of guards armed with rifles, smgs and pistols to pop out from behind the bar, out of doors and more so, as if they were literally crawling out of the wood work.

Webb was shocked. His responce was "What the- Where did you get these guys, the IRA?"

"Oh I see," said Finbar, "If a guy is Irish and violent-"

"And likes to shoot people who get in the way." added Sly.

"Yeah," agreeded Finbar, "and likes to shoot people who get in the way, he's a member of the IRA."

"Actually, last I checked, that's the EXACT defintion of someone in the IRA." Webb told him.

"Well, at least I'm not a copper with an eye like a pirate!" shouted Finbar, refering to Webb's eyepatch. "I am not leaving until the only ones left alive are me, Patrick, my brother over there, and maybe a few of the russian thugs I hired. FIRE!" and with that, all hell broke loose, bullets flying all over the place.

"Quick, split up and met at the van!" shouted Sly.

"Don't worry Sly! I have an idea to take out most of these thugs!" Murray told him.

"Hope it better then you're last idea!" Sly said as he and Bentley ran off. Murray picked up a table for cover.

"Tremble, boyo's!" yelled Murray, charging at the beams holding up some platforms the thugs where standing on, "For the Murray is here, and ready to bring down the house!" As he ran into the beams, the platforms gave away under the weight of the thugs, who fell to the ground and got knocked out. Finbar charged out at Webb, who pulled out a taser and hit him with it, sending him to the floor, twitching.

As Murray ran out towards the back door, Patrick was looking for Sly, while Mick ran like hell and Carmelita and the other cops ran after some other goons. Patrick was knocking down every door he could find, until he burst in and saw a raccon shaped outline and beat it with his bat. Looking closely, he noticed that it was just a decoy.

"What the 'ell is this?" he asked.

Sly, who was hanging up on the celing and answered "Old family secret." before swooping down and kicking Patrick in the face, knocking him down. As Sly ran off, the cops where chasing some thugs, when all of a sudden, Khumalo's weight gave way underneath under the old floor boards.

"Officer down, way down!" shouted Webb into his radio.

"Are you alright? asked Carmelita, which Khumalo answered with a thumbs up. "You stay here, I'll catch Cooper." she told Webb as she reloaded her pistol.

Outback, the gang had met up, safe and sound.

"Everyone OK?" asked Bentley.

"A little shell shocked, but nothing perment." responded Sly as he jumped into the van.

Before Murray could drive away, Mick jumped in front of them and shouted "Wait! Save me! I don't want to be stuck here! I'll pay you anything!"

"Sorry, but we don't give rides to crooked mayors." Sly told him. "Besides, I think she is going to want a word with you." he added, pointing to Carmelita in the side-view mirrior. As the van sped off, Sly shouted "He's all your's, Carmelita!"

"Put your hands behind your head." Carmelita told Mick, who did so, while Finbar ran out the door with Webb right behind him, rubbing his hand.

"OW, HE BIT ME!" Webb shouted before tackling the loose-moraled otter. Mick sighed as his world came tumbling down.

...

South African Hospital. A few days later. 4:01 PM local time.

Khumalo was in the hosptial, resting after he broke his back in Ireland. His wife rushed in, hysterical.

"Oh Larry!" she sobbed, "I knew I shouldn't have let you go out on that job!"

"It's alright dear." her husband explained, pointing towards an envelope on his table. She walked over to the table and picked it up. It read "For a job well done, signed the boss." She opened the envelope, which was full of several thousand rand bills.

"Larry!" she shouted, "This is enough to last us a life time!"

"It sure is." Khumalo told her. His wife went over to hug him and he told her "Not so hard. Don't want to brake my back agian."

"Sorry." she said.

"It's OK." Khumalo similed.

To be continued.....