nathan drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sicparvasmagna) wrote2017-10-02 05:55 pm
sicparvasmagna) wrote2017-10-02 05:55 pm
(no subject)
In retrospect, he probably should have kept his mouth shut. That seems to be the reasoning for just about everything that happens to him, in truth, but he's not about to admit that, especially not aloud. It's been a crappy month. It's been a crappy few months, actually, but who's counting? All he knows is that he's sick and tired of this city and the way it picks and chooses how and when to fuck up his life, and he's maybe a little more reactive than normal because of it.
This entire Purge nonsense, Nate has decided, is bullshit. The very fact that it's a thing people capitalise when they write it on flyers or even say it is indicative of how ridiculous it is. Nate's a goddamn thief and even he doesn't know who thought it was a good idea to let a bunch of would-be criminals run around unchecked for an entire night. Some part of him had kind of been hoping it would all fizzle out to nothing, but then he'd heard the first gunshot ring out at hardly past 6:30, the first molotov cocktail thrown through a window across the street from him shortly after.
There'd been a rush of people running and screaming, some barricading themselves inside their houses and others making for the streets with weapons, and somewhere in the midst of the confusion Nate had ended up with his gun pointed at the guy who just yesterday had made him coffee and chatted idly about the weather. He'd been trying to pull a goddamn burlap sack over some poor girl's head like they're in some kind of horror movie, and luckily Nate had enough presence of mind to have his .45 on him. One thing had led to another and Nate's not sure when exactly Jimmy the barista decided that they were enemies, but it was probably something to do with Nate telling him he made a crappy cup of coffee while flicking the safety off.
He hadn't counted on Jimmy having a friend in all this though, and the bat cracking across the back of his head had taken him by surprise. He'd gone down like a goddamn ragdoll, and now he's the guy with the fucking burlap sack over his head, tied to a chair.
"This is honestly next level, even for Darrow." Nobody answers him, which isn't really a surprise. There's a throbbing pain in his head, the sack smells like old compost and breathing is more difficult than it should be, but he's not panicking. He's been abducted before, and he's pretty sure Jimmy isn't as smart or evil as Marlowe or Rameses. He's hoping not anyway, because after everything, this would be a really crappy way to die.
"You definitely just lost yourself a loyal customer," he continues, calling out to the empty silence. His voice reverberates back to him, so he's guessing he's in some kind of basement, or warehouse maybe. He definitely doesn't have his gun anymore, which just tops off his day. He tries to think of whether he told Chloe or Coop or anybody where he was planning to be tonight, but with the entire city in chaos he has no idea where they might be, either. He shifts as best he can, testing the strength of the ties around his wrists and ankles. Plastic digs into his skin but nothing budges, and Nate rolls his eyes inside the sack. Zip-ties, just great.
There's the sound of a door opening, strange creepy music filling the room, and then the strike of a match. He can smell incense, and for a beat he thinks this has to be the weirdest kidnapping ever, but then the sack is blessedly removed from his head and he can see. The only light is from candles and it takes him a moment to blink through the darkness, but eventually he makes out the shapes of a bunch of people standing around him in a circle, heads bowed. His eyes are drawn to the man directly in front of him. He's bigger than Jimmy, probably about Nate's size, but more concerning is the knife he's holding.
"Oh hell no," Nate starts, shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'm not interested in joining your creepy-ass cult. I mean, I didn't read the fine print, but nobody told me that's what happens when you fill up your loyalty card."
This entire Purge nonsense, Nate has decided, is bullshit. The very fact that it's a thing people capitalise when they write it on flyers or even say it is indicative of how ridiculous it is. Nate's a goddamn thief and even he doesn't know who thought it was a good idea to let a bunch of would-be criminals run around unchecked for an entire night. Some part of him had kind of been hoping it would all fizzle out to nothing, but then he'd heard the first gunshot ring out at hardly past 6:30, the first molotov cocktail thrown through a window across the street from him shortly after.
There'd been a rush of people running and screaming, some barricading themselves inside their houses and others making for the streets with weapons, and somewhere in the midst of the confusion Nate had ended up with his gun pointed at the guy who just yesterday had made him coffee and chatted idly about the weather. He'd been trying to pull a goddamn burlap sack over some poor girl's head like they're in some kind of horror movie, and luckily Nate had enough presence of mind to have his .45 on him. One thing had led to another and Nate's not sure when exactly Jimmy the barista decided that they were enemies, but it was probably something to do with Nate telling him he made a crappy cup of coffee while flicking the safety off.
He hadn't counted on Jimmy having a friend in all this though, and the bat cracking across the back of his head had taken him by surprise. He'd gone down like a goddamn ragdoll, and now he's the guy with the fucking burlap sack over his head, tied to a chair.
"This is honestly next level, even for Darrow." Nobody answers him, which isn't really a surprise. There's a throbbing pain in his head, the sack smells like old compost and breathing is more difficult than it should be, but he's not panicking. He's been abducted before, and he's pretty sure Jimmy isn't as smart or evil as Marlowe or Rameses. He's hoping not anyway, because after everything, this would be a really crappy way to die.
"You definitely just lost yourself a loyal customer," he continues, calling out to the empty silence. His voice reverberates back to him, so he's guessing he's in some kind of basement, or warehouse maybe. He definitely doesn't have his gun anymore, which just tops off his day. He tries to think of whether he told Chloe or Coop or anybody where he was planning to be tonight, but with the entire city in chaos he has no idea where they might be, either. He shifts as best he can, testing the strength of the ties around his wrists and ankles. Plastic digs into his skin but nothing budges, and Nate rolls his eyes inside the sack. Zip-ties, just great.
There's the sound of a door opening, strange creepy music filling the room, and then the strike of a match. He can smell incense, and for a beat he thinks this has to be the weirdest kidnapping ever, but then the sack is blessedly removed from his head and he can see. The only light is from candles and it takes him a moment to blink through the darkness, but eventually he makes out the shapes of a bunch of people standing around him in a circle, heads bowed. His eyes are drawn to the man directly in front of him. He's bigger than Jimmy, probably about Nate's size, but more concerning is the knife he's holding.
"Oh hell no," Nate starts, shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'm not interested in joining your creepy-ass cult. I mean, I didn't read the fine print, but nobody told me that's what happens when you fill up your loyalty card."
no subject
And it's so much more Nate.
She moves in that direction, catching up with Coop for a moment and plucking his sleeve so he knows where they're headed. Almost at the same time, she shifts the sight of her gun and squeezes the trigger again, sending a bullet into one of the robed figures that seemed to be coming straight for Coop. She meets his gaze, shrugs a little, then heads for the rolling garage door.
"Go to my place," she says, because none of the cult members will know where that is. "If we get separated, both of you meet me there."