Four months have passed by and I've grown to be adept in the art of the native tongues of the world. Nathan was an excellent teacher to say the least about him, but he was still an ignorant bastard to deal with at times. Of course, I wouldn't really say ignorant in front of him, I would still call him a "wisecracking motherfucker." He'd make some remark about me being bald and sometimes, when he was on his man period, I'd say something about Trish. Albeit low, we still laughed about it, shut up for a while, rinse and repeat.

Nate was on his way to that luxury prison in the sky on top of a comfy, lofty cloud that would not dare break into wisps. I had a chess set brought in (at this point, it really isn't much of a prison as much as it is a hotel with room service) along with a deck of cards and a table we could play on. This usually filled up our time after lessons of languages, along with some stupid male dominance games; let's see who can take a punch to the face without crying! There were a lot of good suggestions thrown out there, but our fun was ended a little prematurely as some of the guards passing by on their patrols (including Bill, oddly enough) told us to cut it out before he had our asses in the hole. I literally laughed out loud once when Bill told us to quit as he was trying to hide a thick, black body bag behind his bigger self. Sure, I laughed, but Nate was a little disturbed by the scene.

During that four month period, though, after a day of nothing but Hebrew lessons, we sat down at our table and I shuffled the deck.

"So," I began, trying to get a good grasp on the cards, "the four months are going to come to a close here soon."

Nathan took a drink of his beer, which he switched to Milwaukee for some reason (my opinion of it is that it tastes like Cheetah piss in a can, but everyone has their tastes, even shitty ones). "Yeah, I've been planning a little bit here and there. Mostly it's just a bunch of dabbling, but I think I've got something going."

"Really now?" I dealt the cards. We've played games that cross the board for playing cards: Blackjack, Texas Hold'em, Yuker (we had to invite Bill and another guard buddy to play that one though) -you name it, we've played it. Of course, today we tried something different. A little game known Rummy, as far as I know and as far as I could care. "You really haven't been wasting your time teaching me and playing cards and, not to mention, drinking my beer after all."

"Oh, quit your bitchin'. That's why I switched to Milwaukee. You really can be a sadistic asshole, can't you?"

"You don't know the half of it." I rolled my eyes.

"Anyway, I'll tell you the plan." He picked up his cards. "I've been able to get out of this cell, unlike you, so I know the patrols of these guards right and left. Our best bet is to break out about, let's say, one o'clock in the morning and taking a left into our hallway just outside here. There are always two standing guards on the outside of the hallway to keep an eye on the prison courtyard. We take them out silently."

"You don't know me very well, do you?" I interrupted.

He shoved on. "We take them out silently, alright?" I sat back with a little bitterness. "Moving on." I thought I heard a quick little utter of the word crybaby under his breath, but I ignored it. "After a few more scuttles involving some of the cops on their shifts, we take the west wing exit. It only has one spotlight on the roof, running a plain horizontal line across the courtyard. There's also a large gaping hole in the chicken wire, almost begging for someone to escape. They say that they're going to fix it by tomorrow, so we need to get out of this place tonight."

He finished his speech. I had listened attentively, a little perplexed about how simple his plan really is. I could've done that anytime. There has to be a catch that I'm missing.

"But there's a catch." Bingo. "I noticed going along these walls that there are wires specifically tied to each cell door. I can't unlock this gate without the alarm system being sabotaged. So unless a miracle happens within the next," Nate took a quick glance towards his watch, "6 hours, then there's no way shit is happening."

Nathan Drake: master thief. What a look of worriment on his face; he had faced situations in much more dangerous prisons than this and a measly alarm system has him outwitted? I couldn't help myself from laughing.

He gave me a look of confusion. "What's so damn funny?"

I wiped a tear that was coming down my face. "Oh, it's just that you were saying all this bullshit about being a professional thieving personnel and you're licked by a tiny little two-bit system that you could buy and install for less than forty bucks?"

"Let's see you come up with something genius."

"Don't worry. I've got it. Oh, and by the way," I continued, counting up the pairs and points that I had from my cards, "I win."

"One o'clock. Wake up, asshole." I threw a pillow at Nate. "We've got to get moving."

He groaned. "Just five more minutes mommy."

I shook my head. "Get up."

Slowly, ever so slowly, he got up. For a professional thief, he doesn't respond to escaping situations very well. "Alright, alright…I'm up." He cracked his back, bending it while making a moaning sound. "God, that fall in Borneo really kicked my ass."

"Yeah, you can tell me more about your wonderful thieving adventures later, hotshot. Right now, you got to pick the lock."

"For a United States prison, I would've figured something more…advanced for a government establishment rather than this old medieval key lock." What seemed to be just a few flicks of the wrist and some clanging metal to me soon unlocked the door that was barring us in. "There, see? Easy-peasy."

Shooting him a look seemed of no concern to him. "So?"

"What?"

I gestured him onwards. "Lady's first, jackass. You gotta lead us out of here anyway."

"Jeez, someone's on their period." Nate chuckled. The bastard; I oughtta choke his ass. Afterwards though. After we were done.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment surge through me like, well, lightning. I had my hair stand on end and my bones tingle as I ran past some of the monkeys asleep in their cages. For normal prisoners (whatever the definition of normal even was around here), they were issued the standard governmental orange with a tagged number on each and every single one of them. And that's all these human beings were to the ever-so corrupt punishers in Washington-just numbers. But as I passed the numbers known as "4081" and "7153," I snickered. I was the alpha-male of the dog pound and was smart enough to find my way out through the use of some friend. And in that laid another problem for the others; if only they had the charismatic abilities that I did.

I just hope he takes the secret well.

"Left, dumbass! Left!"

I practically almost was lost in a trance looking at the digits in chains. Thanks to Nathan's yelling about (prison guards: WE ARE HERE!), I got focused once more. I made a sharp left, regaining my composure with a little dignity.

"Sorry 'bout that." I don't know why I apologized. He'll probably still find an excuse to make fun.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't say a single thing. I guess when it comes down to it, you can't shake a professional out of his concentration while he's working.

"Alright, up this stairway and the guards working the passage, and then from there we should be close to home free." Drake pointed upwards. "You ready for this, big shot."

"You bet your as-"

"Freeze!"

An instant reaction; an instinct. I can't help it, being raised in the wild with my powers, anyone that yells in my direction with some type of threatening prospect I kill. It's a gruesome matter, but why can't any of them just learn to sidle along and see me walking away, not giving a fuck?

But during this split second, I felt it: I felt alive again. I could feel my electricity flow back through my veins as I released a full-on shock for the first time in months. It started in my cerebrum. Ah, the rush of it all! Smirking was the littlest of things that I could've done, and I did do; my pearly whites gleaming along with my sparks. My shoulder could feel the electric boogaloo do a shake through my muscles, allowing them to loosen up a little more. This was nothing as it coursed up through my arm, giving out an almost orgasmic sense of ecstasy. It all was great until the party died down with the bolt of lightning leaving my hand. Give me a beer and let the night settle.

This was until I realized-oh dear God, Bill. Good ol' Bill, the man who had brought me my booze and kept me entertained. One of the only two friends I had made inside these walls, and he was gone in a blink of an eye-by my hands, nonetheless. Everything seemed to just slow down, as if we were entering a special effect sequence from the Matrix movies. I saw Nate's reaction out of the corner of my eye, his own wide as dinner plates with a gaping mouth put under them. I didn't bother concentrating on that though; his conscience would recover. I'm not so sure about mine. I kept on forgetting that Bill was doing his job, just being another officer on the police force.

"What was that?!" Nate and I heard the yelling of another cop who turned out to be one of the couple that was standing by at the passage. Of course, Nate couldn't focus on that. He was more focused on one thing and one thing only.

"What in the hell was that?!" He yelled at me, still a bit shaken up by what he just saw.

"A little skill I picked up along with the barrel of fun of Empire City."

"You…you were one of them?! When the heck were you going to tell me that you could shoot little sparks of lightning from your fingertips?" He made a gesture of sorts with his fingers, wiggling them up and down.

"Yeah, I probably should've said something. But…" I looked back at Bill's lifeless carcass, and then shot another stream of electric power at the oncoming guard, getting a kill shot right in the head. My aim still hasn't wavered any. "We need to get going. Now!"

I grabbed him by his arm, dragging the "calm, cool professional" out of the building, dodging the oncoming bullets that tore through the air at high velocity from a couple different watchtowers. I didn't look back, I didn't shoot another bolt: I just got through the gaping hole in the chicken-wire fence and ran down a street, still holding onto the dazed and confused man known as Nathan Drake.

I need to find Zeke-I need to find a beer.

Hey all! This is Trapex here on an author's personal note. I know that some of you who actually stay tuned for chapters of my story that get posted had gotten tired of waiting, wondering where the hell chapter 3 was. Trust me, I felt like I was going insane too. Getting inspiration for getting this done and over with was tiring to say the least. On that note, I'm not really sure when chapter 4 will be released. I do have a life outside of writing and I feel like I need to give more out to my own personal level. I want it to be one of the longer ones and I want it to be good-I don't think my best efforts got put into this particular one-and packed with some more action and depth into it. Now I don't want to delve on specifics for the chapter, but let's just say that it has a nice little twist to it. Anyways, I hope you all don't hate me for taking this long to post one chapter. Enjoy!