thisavrou_log | (no subject)

Who: Sam Drake & Nathan Drake
When: Backdated to shadow event
Where: Around Region 1
What: Shadow Sam roams around
Warnings: Violence??

[He remembers the sound of the sea. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks that surrounded the prison. The air was sticky with heat and smelled of salt and sweat and piss, the foundations of the buildings bleak and cracked. He remembers staring up at the ceiling of a cell, lying in a cot that was too hard, watching the paint chip away inch by inch with a cell mate for company and guards that were all too happy to use force to get their points across.

Thirteen years, he remembers. Months he spent wondering if his brother would ever come back. Wondered if he even knew he was alive, and if he even cared. Perfect younger brother, who got to live his life. Charming Nathan, who accomplished everything they had dreamt of doing: traveled across the world, discovered ancient cities, found lost treasures, got a girl and a whole new family and life and left him behind to rot in a prison cell without even a second thought.

It feels good to walk around. To move throughout the streets--a freedom he relishes and that empowers him with each step. Black eyes scan the faces of those around him, scowling at those that smile and look too happy, pushing passed them with too much force that knocks some people to the ground. He walks past with a grin across his face, pleased for even the smallest chance to ruin the enjoyment of their lives. It's just a small victory, enough to satiate the growing rage as he looks for the one person who deserved his full attention. The one person who deserved every ounce of built up resentment. Nathan Drake: groundbreaking adventurer, loving husband, and dreaded brother.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's been a hell of a month. Ingress went to shit, plenty (not all, but enough) people reacted as shittily as possible, people started sprouting out fucking cray doubles, apparently—yeesh. Nate's trying to get back to a normal routine, for whatever passes as normal here, but it's harder than it should be, even with all his experience dealing with weird and alarming shit.

He's been spending a few nights with Elena out at Adrien's farm, but he's been worried about people back in Region 1, too, so he took the EN-Line back for the afternoon. No one's home when he enters the house, though, as far as he can tell. Kind of disappointing, but all right. He'll grab a water bottle from the fridge and then go see if he can find someone.]

[That shitty month is about to get a whole lot shittier. It takes him a little longer than he would have liked to find Nathan, simply because of the distance between them, but he follows his instincts, like he's being pulled by an invisible string that he knows will lead him to his target.

He picks up his speed as he gets closer to the house, the excitement and eagerness of drawing closer to him mirroring the feeling normal Sam might feel when he's close to finding a clue to some lost treasure. And in a way it is a treasure he's hunting, isn't it? The chance to finally settle a thirteen year score is far more enthralling than any pirate civilization.

As he reaches the house, he looks up at the windows, looking for signs of movements of where he might be. He knows he's inside. He can feel him inside, and when he can't immediately see him through the windows he opts instead to go up the front door, pounding on it with a fist and a teasing, sing song shout of:]

Naathaaan!

Sam?

[Even muffled, he recognizes his brother's voice right away. Well, that's convenient. Nate wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and strolls over to let him in.

Honestly, the timing is great. Ever since...what happened to Elena, and then the shit with the Ingress too, he feels better when he can see for himself that his loved ones are all right. When he opens the door, his welcoming is tinged with relief.]

Come on, man, you don't have to...

...knock.

[As Sam waits for his brother to get the door, he takes a few steps back to admire the house he's in. Large, homey, sure he's sharing it with friends, but it's just another symbol of some form of normalcy in an otherwise abnormal situation. He can only imagine the type of place Nathan had back in their own world, when he had settled down with his wife and lived his days in peace. It's infuriating.

The door opens, and shadow Sam's black eyes lock onto him, and it's as if everything he's been holding in screams to be released.]

Surprise, asshole!

[Is the only warning he'll get, before he aims a hard punch right for his face.]

Shit—

[He doesn't even get the word out before 'Sam' clocks him in the face and he staggers back with the taste of blood in his mouth. But if a single punch were enough to take him down, he'd have been dead years ago.

Nate staggers back, trying to get to a point where he can put furniture or something between them. Black eyes, sudden and inexplicable aggression—it's not really his brother, he knows that, but goddamn if it doesn't feel almost like it is. Fighting back's not his preferred way out of this.]

C'mon, man, what's that for? Got that out of your system now?

Oh, no no no, we're just getting started here!

[As Nathan moves back, Sam rushes forward into the house, intent on giving him little time to even catch his breath. He aims another hook for his face, not caring about the damage that might befall the furniture in the room. In fact, whether or not that second punch lands, he'll grab the nearest object--a glass off the table--and chuck it in his direction.]

[He doesn't understand how these things work, but it's clear that there's more to it than a physical imitation. This not-Sam knows how he moves, knows he'll try to delay and avoid instead of give in to the fight.

Or maybe it's just a coincidence. Doesn't matter. He dodges the glass, but it shatters against the wall, and he winces at the feel of tiny shards pricking his skin.]

What's your problem, huh? You're supposed to be my brother, right? Why don't you sit down and we'll have a beer?

[Sitting down is definitely not on this Sam's agenda, if his mocking, amused laughter is anything to go by. It's far too loud, definitely obnoxious, like he's making an over exaggerated show of how much of a ridiculous idea sitting down and having a beer would be.]

Sit down? You wanna sit and talk? What, like normal brothers?

[He does let up though, circling around as he bides his time, trying to figure out the best way to get closer to him. He could always just use his own abilities, but what's the fun in that? That would just end things way too quickly.]

Catch up, talk about everything you've been up to since you ran away from that prison, Nathan Drake and all his wonderful accomplishments! Nathan Drake, who got the easy way out of Panama and started a whole life on his own without even a second thought about his brother.

[He grabs a chair next to the table, lifting it up and getting ready to toss it]

I'd say we're about thirteen years too late for talking, don't you think?

[Is Nate's last warning before he swings the chair at him as hard as he can.]

[Normal brothers. What the heck are those like? Nate doesn't know, and he's sure Sam—the real Sam—doesn't either. Nothing in their life has ever been normal, but that never mattered, because the two of them knew what was important.

He wants to challenge the fake-Sam with that, throw all the bullshit back in his face. but not-Sam is good, because he manages to stop Nate in his tracks.]

What?

[How about every second thought, bouncing around his head and interrupting all the others, for months, until he was able to start moving on? The easy way out? Was he fucking kidding? The thirteen years doesn't even register with him.

This is when the chair smashes into him, knocking him to the ground with a pained cry.]

You're not him. Sam would know better. He'd know I'd have done anything to get him out!