Nate took another punch to the face, waiting for an opening to make his move. It hurt like hell, but he could handle it, and worse. Honestly, he was having a harder time controlling the rising sense of panic that threatened to seize him. That sonuvabitch had Sully somewhere onboard, and was probably torturing him. The thought hurt a damn sight more than the beating he was currently taking.

Whenever Sully brought up his ever increasing age, Nate would typically shrug, make a joke, and laugh it off. Not this time. Nate got angry in France when he thought Sully was bowing out, using his age as an excuse. He was angry because while they were escaping from the burning chateau, he couldn't ignore the signs that Sully was slowing down, having a hard time keeping up. Nate was being selfish; he didn't want to admit his mentor might be getting too old for their adventures…because he still needed him. He wasn't ready to do this without Sully's help…or company. Hell, he loved the old man like a father. Sully knew that, even if they didn't really talk about it. Now I could lose him for good. Sullivan might not live to complain about being "6 GODDAMN 1", and it'll be my fault. This thought sent Nathan over the edge.

Nate head butted the thug that had been beating the crap of him, and with a strength borne of fury and desperation he hurled himself, chair and all into the man behind him. They slammed into the wall hard enough to break the chair Nate was tied to and the man's back. "Come on you bastards!" Nate egged on the remaining thugs. He was seething with anger, his adrenaline was pumping and he was ready for a fight. He quickly incapacitated the remaining pirates. Nate stopped long enough to grab a gun and assess his injuries (nothing serious for now) before going in search of Sully.

He finally made it out of the hold and onto the deck of the ship that held him prisoner. Nate wasn't sure what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the sight that lay before him. Instead of open water, he was surrounded by rusted and decaying vessels. Nate spotted the pirate who had threatened Sully; he was heading below deck on a large ship located on the far side of the floating junkyard. It's gotta be where they're holding him. Nate studied the obstacles that lay between him and his friend: one-hundred and fifty yards of sea filled with boats, floating platforms, and at least a dozen visible guards. He dove into the water and began swimming towards the nearest guard without a second thought. When Nate reached the boat where the first guard was keeping watch, he slowly climbed up the side and waiting for him to come within arm's reach. Now. Nate struck with lightening speed, jumping onto the deck, snapping the man's neck, and dumping his body overboard before he could utter a cry. Nathan dove for cover in case of the nearby pirates looked this way, his eyes searching the deck for anything useful—more ammo, a grenade or…he stopped. The thug's gun had landed on the deck before his corpse ended up in the sea. It was a .44 Smith and Wesson revolver.

Alright, you ready kid?" Sully yelled from the kitchen of his apartment. A cleaner although decidedly irritated Nate emerged from the bathroom. He was wearing a new t-shirt and pair of jeans, but carried his dirty old converse and a pair of socks in hand. After our first job that calls for hiking through rough terrain he'll be goddamn thrilled to wear the boots I bought him. The kid always has to learn the hard way, Sully thought. Nate sat down on the couch in the living room to put on his socks and shoes, grumbling under his breath the whole time. He almost looked like a normal teenager. Still has that look in his eyes, like he might have to make a run for it any second.

It had been a week since the fateful meeting of Victor Sullivan and Nathan Drake in Cartagena. Sully brought Nate back to the States with him, and had been teaching the kid some of the more important facts about the job. The first few days in each other's company were spent in lengthy discussions over hot meals.
"Didn't the nuns feed you at that goddamn place?" became Sully's most frequent lament. The conversations between the two usually went something along these lines:
"Lesson 1: Treasure hunter, thief, acquisitions expert, conman… all in the eye of the beholder. Honor among thieves? Let's just say there is a lot of new moral gray area for you to become familiar with, kid. You'll meet a lot of characters on the job, but the ones you can actually trust are few and far between. Until you're experienced enough to tell the difference between the two, don't trust any of 'em. Word to the wise, never trust anyone who says 'you can trust me.' Oldest goddamn trick in the book."
"So, I can trust you?"
"If you have to ask, then you aren't experienced enough to tell the difference. Lesson 2…"

Sullivan and Drake spent hours talking about the rules of free lance thievery, how to handle clients, the best way to sell stolen treasure, as well as reading maps, legends of ancient civilizations and lost treasures, and the study of languages.
"You read Latin and archaic Spanish?" Sully asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, you don't?" The extraordinary knowledge Nathan possessed amazing Sullivan, but so did the kid's extraordinary ignorance.
"Whatcha watching?" Nate (who always seemed to sleep in) had wandered into the living room one morning to find Sully eating a bowl of cereal, watching a movie on TV. It was black and white, and two men in antique looking diving suits were exploring a sunken ship. "Is this about prehistoric treasure hunters? Are you trying to relive your glory days?" Nate smirked.
"It's called 'Reap the Wild Wind'. The Duke is about to get eaten by a giant squid. Kind of deserves it though, he's an ass in this one." He must really like this movie, didn't even say anything about the age joke, Nate thought. He sat down on the chair on the other side of the room. After a couple minutes he saw the fakest looking movie prop ever to appear on screen in the form of the giant-Duke-eating-squid.
"Alright. That's just stupid. Who is the Duke anyway?" Sully almost dropped his bowl.
"The Duke! John Wayne! One of the best actors to ever hold a six-shooter! How in the hell-" Sully ranted for awhile about that one.

"You said to be ready by 9:00. It's just now 8:30. What's the rush?" Nate had finished putting his shoes on and stood up, waiting for an explanation.
"Food stores are low, figured we could stop along the way to eat." Nate all but ran out the door, forgetting to shut it. Sully stood there enjoying the last couple sips of his coffee.
"Who's holding us up now, old man?" He heard Nate yell from outside. Laughing, Sully set the cup in the sink, grabbed his duffle bag which he had sitting ready by the door, and headed out after the boy.
"Where are we headed?" Sully and Nate were back in the car after they finished their breakfast at a nearby greasy spoon. It took a full two minutes for Nate to lay into Sully with the questions. Patience was definitely not one of Nate's virtues.
"Just outside of the city a friend of mine owns some isolated property. He has an outdoor firing range set up there. He's out of town this week." Sully pulled out a fresh cigar and lit it. He took a few puffs and sighed in approval.
"You need some more practice 'cause the ole eyesight isn't what it used to be or just want to get out some of that pent up aggression?" Sully didn't respond for a few moments. The kid always has to be a wise-ass, he thought.
"Neither. It's time for you to learn to handle a gun yourself." Nate didn't say anything the rest of the drive. Once they arrived, Sully grabbed his bag and told Nate to follow him. They walked around the house (more like a cabin really) to the back of the property. There were two targets set up at different distances, and two tables. Sully guided Nate to the table with the shorter distanced target.
"Okay, Nate. We'll start here." Sully set his bag on the table and proceeded to pull out and line up several handguns and containers of ammo.
"Sully, what if I don't want to shoot anyone?" The older man looked at the boy, studying him for a moment. Nate had acted tough in Cartagena, but right now he looked like a scared kid. Hell, he is a scared kid. He's only 15 goddamn years old, you idiot. Were you running around shooting people when you were 15? Sully thought how best to put it to him.
"Listen, Nate. If you want to be in this business and live this lifestyle, you're going to have to carry a gun. It's dangerous work. I'm not teaching you everything I know just so some low-life thug can kill you the first time we run into trouble. I've got to know that you can look out for yourself. Even though we have each other's backs, we won't always be working side by side on jobs, and I can't spend every moment that you're not within sight worrying about you." Nate was silent, thinking.
"That man on the roof in Cartagena was going to kill me, but I couldn't pull the trigger." He whispered, almost to himself. Sully pretended not to hear him.
"Here, we'll start with this." Sully held a 9mm Beretta. "Before we go into all the finer details about aiming and proper gun maintenance, I want you to fire off a few rounds so you're not so afraid of holding the damn thing."
"I'm not afraid. Why can't I try your gun first?" Nate's chip-on-the-shoulder-attitude was back firmly in place. He pointed to Sully's .44 Smith and Wesson that had been laid out on the table as well.
"It'll knock you on your ass, kid." Sully warned.
"Yeah, right. I can handle it." Sully shrugged, and picked up his Wes .44. The goddamn kid always has to learn the hard way. Sully loaded the revolver and set it back on the table. He moved to stand behind Nate.
"Alright, the gun in loaded and the safety is off. When you're ready, try firing off a couple rounds. Just don't shoot off your foot by accident." Nate picked up the gun, and braced himself. Sully looked at the kid's firing stance: his feet about a foot apart, and side by side. He held the gun with both hands directly in front of himself. Sully watched the kid tense up and start to pull the trigger, his hands shaking slightly. BANG! Nate stumbled backwards and would have fallen as predicted, but Sully caught the kid and set him back on his feet. He also relieved Nate of the gun, flicked the safety on and set it back on the table. "You done fooling around, kid?" Nate stood just staring at Sully. "You alright, son?" Nate's reaction was automatic.
"Don't c—" he stopped. "Yeah, thanks for not letting me fall on my ass." Nate smiled ruefully. Sully clapped him on the shoulder.
"Anytime, kid."

Nate picked up the Wes .44 and checked the cylinder for ammo. It was full. He tucked the weapon into his jeans at the small of his back. This'll put a smile on the old man's face, Nate thought. Sully still needed a replacement for his gun that he lost in Syria. Nate quietly slipped into the water and made his way to his next target. Hang on Sully, I'm coming.

My first story so be kind. Expect chapter two sometime next week.