UNCHARTED: Strange Relic

III.

A guard yells at one of his pals in Spanish and the two run separate directions down the corridor. Drake pulls his head back through the cracked door and slowly pushes it shut as one of the guards passes by, wielding his gun crazily in the air.

Drake turns to Lara and the two look at each other as they listen to the man's footsteps fade out.

She stands up the second she knows they're alone. "Nice going, moron." She scoffs, slapping him on his injured arm. "You almost got us killed."

"Oww!" He groans, covering the graze from her bullet. "Me? I almost got us killed? You're the one that attacked me!"

She puts her hand on her hip. "If you would have just given me the pendant, all of this would have been avoided."

"You stole it from me."

"And you stole it from someone else." She rolls her eyes as she pulls out the emerald necklace from her pocket. She widens the strap to fit around her head and lets it hang from her neck. "Besides, I'm just retrieving what's mine."

Looking at the stone, his eyes quickly gaze past it to her bosom. "Those are yours?"

"Excuse me?"

"That is yours?" He gulps, correcting himself. Last thing he needs is another ass-kicking.

Lara touches the pendant and turns to look around the room. "Yes. It was stolen from me. So yeah, unlike you, I'm not a petty thief."

Drake smirks. "I'd hardly call me petty, but thief... yes. Okay, so fill me in here, what kind of museum has mercenaries that shoot-on-sight for overnight guards?"

Shrugging, she walks around the room eying the many display cases. Most are filled with weapons of different sorts. "What makes you think I know?"

"You came prepared, didn't you?" He gestures at her gun.

She smiles as she comes across a tall case enclosing a medieval bow and arrow. It's slightly over two feet tall, with a leather strap and the engravings on the wood are hardly cracked. Considering its age, it is in extremely good condition. She tears a piece of cloth from the bottom of her shirt and wraps it around her elbow, then slams it into the glass to shatter it.

Drake watches her, still waiting for his answer.

She slings a small pouch full of arrows over her shoulder and grabs the bow. She turns to him. "Hey, I have an idea. Let's just focus on getting the hell out of here."

Sighing, Drake looks around the room to find a weapon for himself. His eyes set on an old revolver inside of a case mounted on the wall above a painting. Hopefully it's loaded.

"Works for me."