Chapter 2

"Are you out of your goddamned mind?!"

"Victor-"

Victor 'Sully' Sullivan stalked into the cheap motel room, furiously brushing the drying earth of off his brown bomber jacket. His silver hair stuck up wildly in multiple directions and his face had started to show his age, his moustache clad face was fixed in a look, a perfect mix of anger and disbelief. Trailing behind him, slightly limping, was Sam Drake, his entire body covered in dirt. Mud streaked his face and pine needles poked wildly out of his dark hair. He hobbled over to the cheap wooden chair and table, pulled it out and sat down with a slight grunt. Victor slid the gaudy flowered drapes to the room closed, taking no chance of the two of them being seen. Sam flipped on the lamp on the table next to him and began fishing around in his filthy denim sherpa jacket. He extracted a pack of cigarettes from his inner pocket and popped one between his lips.

"C'mon Victor, it coulda been worse," he said, rooting through his coat again. Victor wheeled around furiously.

"'Coulda been worse'? I was shot at, spent five hours hiding in a spider infested brush pile, you fell down a damn mine shaft and we have absolutely nothing to show for it! Tell me how it could have been worse?"

Sam gestured impatiently at Victor with his hand, giving up the search for his own lighter. Victor pulled his own battered gold one out of his pants pocket and flicked it across the room at Sam, who caught it expertly in his left hand. He lit his smoke and took in a long drag.

"We're alive and got all our own teeth. Well, at least I do," he said, grinning at Sully. Victor was not amused.

"What in your mind told you it was a good idea to go for the Oak Island treasure?" Victor asked, staring at Sam incredulously.

"A little birdy told me that they finally dug into the vault. I figured I would slip in and take a little look around first. See if there was anything good," Sam said nonchalantly. Sully sat on one of the double beds in the room with a huff, loose dirt from his clothes landing on the bedspread. "Well, evidently your little birdy neglected to tell you that Marty Lagina has a goddamn private army guarding the entire island."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, gently depositing the ashes from his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. "It's Canada, I figured how dangerous could it be in Canada?" Sam flicked the lighter back to Sully, watching as the man produced a cigar from his shirt pocket.

"The Laginas are from Michigan," he said, eyeing Sam as he lit it, giving it little puffs until it finally lit for him. Sam nodded slowly, extinguishing his smoke. "Explains a lot. But Victor, the amount of money that's down there," Sam sighed longingly as Sully cut him off. "That's your problem Samuel," he said, frustration building in his voice. "You don't know when to call it a day! When the risk of losing your life is greater than gaining the money, you call it a goddamn day! Even after Libertalia, you still haven't learned when finding it is worth it and when it's just too dangerous. Your brother figured it out, why can't you?" Sully spat the words at him.

The words cut at Sam. He loved his brother but hated being compared to him. His brother the great Nathan Drake. The man who found lost cities, buried treasure, but not his brother in prison. Sam had tried for years to not hold it against Nathan for not finding him. The wardens in Panama were pretty good at hiding the fact that the elder Drake brother was still alive, forging document after document and getting rid of whatever prying eyes came looking for information on Sam. As far as the world was concerned, Samuel Drake was dead and gone. Except that even after 13 years had passed, and he had settled into the fact that he would spend the rest of his life in this warm wasteland, someone had found him. Rafe Adler. When Rafe appeared, he was happy to let him pay for his freedom. Sam figured Rafe owed him for getting him into this hellhole in the first place. He was also ready to punch Rafe in his smug face and tell him to go to hell until Rafe started talking about Nathan's 'magnificent finds full of riches,' as Rafe called it. Whispers around the prison about Shambala being found had come and gone, Sam taking them with a grain of salt. But here was a third party, a partial third party but one to confirm the story none the less. Shambala, El Dorado, Nathan had even managed to find the Pillars of Iram in the wasteland that was the Rub Al Khali desert, and Nathan still hadn't managed to find him. Facts that Rafe drilled into his head every moment of the ride back to Rafe's hotel as he attempted to persuade Sam to help him find Avery's treasure. Rafe did forget to mention that Nathan had taken none of the treasure with him, making the payoff that he had made to get Sam out of jail impossible for Nathan to do. Even though he was with him when they found Libertalia, it had felt like an empty victory for Sam. They had found it together, which Sam had always wanted, but deep in the back of his mind, Sam knew that he was just the sidekick. The roles now reversed and the older brother had become the tag along. Sam knew that when it came to Nathan, when exploits were weighed and accomplishments measured, Sam would always be found wanting. Hell, the son of bitch had even managed to age better than he had.

Just as Sam was forming a slew of curses for Sully, a simple ringing came from Sully's pocket. He pulled his glowing cellphone out of his pocket, furrowing his brow at the unknown number displayed on the screen.

"Hello?"