This was a matter of life and death.
And Nate knew it.
Three whole days with almost nothing. Food, water, shelter. It was starting to wear on Nathan Drake. He was tired, helpless, in dire need of a shower and all he could think about was the team of gunmen right on his tail.
New York was hell in the fall and tourists were everywhere. So much for not making a scene. Nate had been chased all over the bustling land of hotdogs, apartment buildings and assholes for the past few days now. And he only wanted one thing out of it. But that one thing was enough to make any man risk his life for it, even if it would slowly destroy their lives in the long-run.
Drake sighed as he whipped out a shiny silver pistol from his bandolier and pointed it out the window of the taxi he had just "borrowed" from an elderly, half-deaf Indian man to show the gunmen he wasn't messing around.
A few rounds went off from a man clad in a black leather jacket and pants whipping through traffic in a fire-red Harley just to get to Nate. A bullet or two grazed the taxi's back window and Nate jerked the vehicle to the right to avoid hitting a woman on a bicycle. As the man on the motorcycle pulled up alongside him, Drake lowered the window and pointed the gun right at the man's front tire.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
One short burst from the gun's chamber and the wheel caved in instantly, sending the man flying forward and into the bed of a pickup truck. Nate snickered.
Drake then wiped the sweat off of his upper lip. He looked in the driver's side mirror when a quick explosion of glass and metal destroyed his only good view behind him. Of course.
"Crap!" He felt a slight jolting nudge from one of the other mercenaries on the rear bumper, almost like a taunting love tap from the black SUV that was quickly gaining on Nate's tail.
Nate swerved sickeningly and hit the brakes as the SUV surged forward right toward the slowing taxi. The yellow cab stopped abruptly and Nate shoved open the door and rolled out just when the lumbering vehicle pummeled into the black and yellow nightmare. An explosion or two, a couple of screams from some distressed citizens, and the two bad guys taken care of. Perfect.
Drake stood up slowly, wiping the dirt and blood from his face and hands as he holstered his pistol. He looked up at the neon sign that shown bright even in the blinding light of day.
Finally. He had reached it.
He walked forward into the cool, air-conditioned sanctuary. He walked past all the seemingly lifeless zombies that stood before him, not even attempting to stop him from advancing. Then, he saw it. Just sitting there in plain sight, like a beacon of wonder and amazement. Drake had seen some treasure in his days, but nothing more elaborate, more complex, more beautifully crafted and perfect in every sense of the word.
The object men and women craved and lusted for for years, was sitting before his very eyes.
This was the moment Nathan Drake had been waiting for, no counting on. This would be the biggest score of his lifetime, his whole career even. No pleasure, no exquisite sin greater…
Than Chocolate-glazed Doughnuts.
With rainbow sprinkles.
"Hell yes."