17th of February, 16:28
Rio, Brazil,
"Double shot of what?"
The barman repeated, staring at the two Americans in front of him as if they were lunatics who escaped from their country. Nathan Drake and Victor Sullivan were standing as those two lunatics, and they groaned in annoyance then at the barman's idiocy.
"I don't think this is working, Nate. Look at him!"
Sully said, referring to the barman with his arms outstretched. "The man clearly doesn't understand what we're trying to say."
Nate starred at the barman's confused face.
"You know...a double shot of whiskey?" he asked again. The barman shook his head. "Fine. How 'bout Vodka?" He shook his head again. "Rum? Brandy? Bourbon?" Nate kept on rambling, and all the barman could do was breath out a deep sigh.
Nate thought a little bit more, and looked at Sully, who shook his head and turned away. The barman started walking away, presumably to attend to another less-insane customer.
"How about a double shot of espresso?" Nate shouted to the barman, who was clearly far from his reach now, and who clearly doesn't care about his questions. "At least tell me if your name's John!" The barman left, and Nate shouted in frustration.
They were there in Brazil already, and they've been to every bar they've spotted along the road from the airport, trying to find a man named John that Chloe'd told Nate about on the phone. No barman seems to be able to understand what Nate was asking, let alone speak comprehensible English.
"How do you even know that 'John's' in Brazil? He could be in Alaska for all I know," Sully asked Nate as they were walking down the streets, hoping to stop by another bar before heading back to the hotel. Elena was supposed to meet up with them the next day, but they were far from close to getting the information they want.
"As soon as you hear this message, go to 'John' and ask for a double shot of –," was all Chloe had said before the call ended with a barrage of gunfire.
Five hours had passed by since the plane touched down on the airport runway, and another hour passed as the trail went colder than ever.
"He should be here somewhere..." Nate murmured to himself.
"Who's John?" Sully had to raise his voice to get an answer.
"Ah...right. It's been just about three years, I guess, since we've met John. He could be anybody for all I know, but word's been going around that he's in Rio now." Nate was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking lost and dazed under the bright sunshine. Crowds were coming up and down the street, colorful and cheery with their casual look and attitude plastered all over their face. Nate stood out like a sore thumb in the country where people, mostly tourists, are supposed to lay back and enjoy their vacation.
"So, John's a code name?" Sully asked.
Nate nodded.
"Last time we met him, he was in Delaware, selling information in a hardware store. It was easy back then, but I guess John had to relocate way south to escape some guys, and nobody really got the exact position of him. I don't know how Chloe had found him though," Nate explained. They were stopped in front of another bar and stood out front.
"What does this John sell anyways? He's some sort of dealer?"
"Eh…no," Nate rubbed the back of his neck as if he was tired of the trip. "He's just this guy who gives us information and uh, updates in our area of work. Any one of us could be appointed as John if we wanted to, but it's mostly the guys who'd retired."
"Huh, 'work', you don't say. How come I didn't know any of this?" Sully frowned at Nate's clear display of low spirits.
"It's just something I found out during those days when I worked with Flynn. It just happens that Chloe knows it too. What can you say? Small world, Sul," Nate said. He looked at the bar's entrance, the door wide open but with no one going in or out.
"So, what are we gonna do now?" Sully asked.
"We wait."
"What?"
Nate sighed. "I don't know, Sully. We just wait for Elena to come, while we go around trying to find out who John is. I'm just not sure about this…if I had just been home when Chloe called…maybe she –" Sully interrupted him by grabbing his shoulders hard enough to surprise him. He held his cigar in his other hand and started speaking in a serious tone.
"Now listen, kid. I don't know what happened to you, you were fine as hell back on the plane, but I don't wanna hear about that. You're gonna figure this out, cause you always did, and we're gonna find Chloe and save her from any-goddamn-body that's holding her down. So stop frowning and have a little faith! We're in Brazil for life's sake!" Sully slapped Nate on the back and laughed, to which Nate smiled. Victor Sullivan, the man who'd supported him all throughout his life. He'd picked Drake off from trouble, took him in and…Nate knew that he owed his life to Sully, and Sully was right – it wasn't him to be sulking around because of some minor problem.
"You're right. I guess we should go in now," Nate said, somewhat more enthusiastic than before. "It's just that the whole setup's weird, Sully, what with John and all. I left that part of my life, and now it's back, and I don't know why." Sully waved his hand over Nate and retorted,
"Forget about that, kid, it's probably just a bad hunch. Come on, I could use a drink."
Sully walked into the bar, as Nate sighed and looked up at the sky.
Am I thinking too much?
Nate thought in his mind, wondering the chances that Chloe had contacted the same person, John, who'd put he and Flynn in so much trouble before. It may be a small world, but the smaller it gets, the more dangerous it is, and Nate's life wasn't always honey and roses. He secretly hoped in his heart that it was nothing, and proceeded to walk into the bar, unaware that the bar name hung outside big and clear; it said, "John's".
