Part 1: From Small Beginnings
Victor Sullivan
When Sully woke up the next morning, Sam and Nate were gone. The only trace of them ever being in Cutter's safehouse was the mess of blankets and cushions they left behind. He couldn't say he was surprised; he'd made it clear that they were on their own with this wild goose chase – to an extent – until they were both willing to let him in.
Still, the fear clung to him, even through the job he and Charlie were working on together, but this time were signs of them.
"You care to explain this one to me, mate?" Cutter didn't even enter the house with so much as a "hello." He stopped before Sully, who was sitting at the rickety table, and set a package down in front of him, nearly two weeks after the Drake's disappearing act.
"What's this?'
"Dunno. Found it in my P.O. box. My locked P.O. box."
Sully stifled a snicker. Someone certainly learned a few tricks. "They're tricky little bastards when they want to be." It was the only explanation he could offer the disgruntled Brit. Sure, he understood the security concerns, but a part of him was pleased they were able to find ways to get in touch with him.
Inside the envelope, he found a couple thousand in cash with a scribbled note.
Now we're square.
He didn't recognize the handwriting, so rationalized this was a gift from Sam. They didn't get themselves killed yet; that was the only solace he had.
~ ~ ~
Two months later, he was attending a gala at a museum. Instead of the usual beforehand agreement, he was seeking out an artifact a potential client had their eyes on. Shouldn't be too difficult to obtain. Except, he caught sight of a familiar figure at the bar, and he almost didn't recognize him. Sam was cleaned up in a tux, aging him beyond his twenty-two years. It wasn't the Drake he wanted to see, though it was still a relief, nonetheless. And, where there was one, there was bound to be another.
Sully sidled up next to Sam, nodding at the bartender as he did so, and the younger man choked on his drink when he recognized him. "Hey, Sam."
After his initial reaction, he merely uttered, "Victor."
"Here for business?"
"You could say that."
Sam was, more than likely, his competitor on this piece, but he wouldn't stand a chance. He was far too inexperienced compared to Sully's nearly twenty years of living this life. He shifted his gaze, scanning the sea of faces, but didn't find the one he was searching for. "Where's your brother?" He asked when he saw no sign of him.
Sam grimaced. "He's, uh... He's doin' some time."
"He's in jail?" Sully hissed. "Again?" Just then, the bartender came over to them with their drinks, briefly interrupting their quiet conversation. Even after he left them alone, Sam wouldn't look at him. "What the hell did you get yourself into?"
"Me?" Sam glared at him, bristling. "This one's on him. He got himself into a fight a couple weeks back. Punk's got a real temper when he gets goin'."
"Must run in the family," Sully snapped. "I thought you were lookin' out for him."
"I am!" Sam insisted scathingly. "But... he's not a kid anymore."
Not even a year ago, Sam practically assaulted him on the principal that Nate was only a child. Now here he was, admitting not only to Sully, but also to himself, that Nate wouldn't always be a teenager forever. It made Sully wonder what they had been through to force Sam to alter his perspective on his younger brother.
The PA system speaking over the drown of conversations interrupted their reunion. Private viewings would begin soon, according to the woman's voice over the speaker. It was almost showtime... Maybe a healthy dose of competition would teach Sam a lesson or two. After all, only one of them would walk out of here with the prize, and it would not be the younger thief.
However, his resolve faltered when he saw Sam's nerves etched in the creases of his face. This wasn't like anything he would have ever dealt with before. He was in the big leagues now and he was completely on his own, unlike Sully, who knew half the attendees fluttering around them.
He tapped the surface of the bar while studying the elder Drake. "What were you thinkin'?"
Sam shot him a wary glance.
"Obvious choice is the verandas," Sully continued, undeterred. "Is that what you were planning?"
"Yea..." Sam admitted cautiously.
"Don't bother." Sully jerked his head at the viewing platforms overhead. "Take a look." It was undoubtedly a good plan, but upon careful inspection, two armed guards stood behind marbled pillars. An untrained eye would have missed them completely.
Sam followed his line of sight, biting his lip as a shadow of doubt passed over his features. "Thanks," He whispered. Then, with great hesitation, asked, "Got any other ideas?"
Sully shrugged. "Big ol' building... Gotta be plenty of other ways in. Balconies, windows everywhere... You just have to find a way in." He was sure Sam could climb about as well as his brother. After all, the kid had to learn it from somewhere.
Sam nodded slowly, unmistakably not quite convinced. "What're you gonna do?"
A smirk touched Sully's lips. "I know the curator. Lovely lady... Always loves to hear about those Navy stories back in my time. I'll keep her out of your hair for a little while."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
Sully met his gaze head on. "You're here for Nate, right?" Another nod. "Then that's worth lettin' you take this one." He glanced up at the clock, then gave Sam a nudge. "Better get goin'. You're gonna run out of time standing around talking to me."
"Not everyone wants to hear your old man stories," Sam quipped, then he did the unexpected. Samuel Drake stuck his hand out while saying, "Thanks, Victor." For a few, breathless seconds, Sully stared at the extended appendage. He wasn't a kid anymore; he was starting to learn some respect. Sully took his hand firmly, then broke away. "I owe you," Sam continued, a roguish smile playing on his lips.
"Just add it to the list," Sully murmured as he watched Sam disappear into the crowds. He had an inkling this wasn't going to be the end of him watching out for his boys from the sidelines.
~ ~ ~
A month or so later, a letter arrived in his P.O. box, all in Sam's handwriting, letting him know Nate was out of jail. No money this time around, but Sully wasn't about to complain. He looked at this long-term investment, that one day they'd come home to him. For now, he was content with the time the Drake brothers allotted him in their lives.
More importantly, he wasn't left in the dark, wondering if they finally found themselves in too deep with whatever it was they were trying to accomplish. Admittedly, there were still stretches when he wouldn't hear a peep out of them, but those were far and few in between. For the most part, they did come back to him, on and off. They finally had a P.O. box – or, at the very least, were willing to divulge that information – which made reaching out to them that much easier. He didn't have to wait for Nate to call him up in the middle of the night just so he could pass along his own messages to the brothers.
"Hey, Sully," The kid greeted as the boys approached the back booth of the bar in Tampa – the tavern was slowly turning out to be a regular meeting spot, a relative place of permanence in his otherwise nomadic life. Sam piled in the spot next to Nate, just across from him, and he gave Sully a small nod of acknowledgement.
Still not ready to open up yet, huh? That was fine. He would wait.
"So... What'd you call us up here for?" Sam asked.
"I think I've got a job that might interest you boys," Sully said.
Sam arced an eyebrow. "You think?"
"Depends if you're willing to take it," The older thief deadpanned. "If not, I know other professionals that'd be more than happy to-"
"How much will we get out of it?" Sam interjected.
Sully stifled an eyeroll. Didn't have much patience, did he? "It's good money. I'm bettin' it's better than anything either of you boys have seen."
Nate turned to Sam. "We gotta do it. You have those debts to pay off, anyway."
Sam was indebted again? No, more than likely, he still owed whoever it was he knew from prison. Sully was resigned to the realization that he may never know those answers.
"I don't know, Nathan... What about our lead?"
Nate shrugged and offhandedly suggested, "We can let Sully take it up."
"Seriously, Nathan?" Sam scoffed incredulously.
"I'm guessing you're not talking about Drake's treasure," Sully observed. Sam certainly wasn't displaying his usual repulsed aversion of letting him get involved. He was proven correct.
"Nah," Nate said. "It's a thirteenth century Roman bracelet. We were gonna steal it after we found an interested buyer, but Sam almost got us thrown in jail again."
Sully leveled the other brother with an unimpressed glower. "Did you, now?"
"He's being dramatic," Sam dismissed. "Besides... It's not going to cover what I owe those people." He finally turned to look at Sully with a scrutinizing gaze. "Why would you give up this job for us?"
He always had to err on the side of caution, even if Sully proved time and time again he was on their side. He was slow to trust Sully's intentions, and quick to put himself in the services of unsavory employers. Sam was certainly trying to prove something, regardless if it was to himself, Nate, or Sully.
"Believe it or not, I've already got work lined up. I've known this client for a while now, so I told him I'd send some recommendations. But, ah... I'm curious about that knick-knack you've tracked down. More importantly, how'd you hear about it?"
Sam and Nate shared a glance. "We've been reading up on it," the younger Drake explained, "and we heard it might be up for grabs at a private auction."
"Color me impressed," Sully said after a few moments of pondering this information.
If they allowed themselves to be mentored, they could do impressively well with this life, but stubborn arrogance was their downfall. Nate would never leave Sam, and Sam was perfectly happy to scrabble for a foothold in this line of work. Not only that, the Drake brothers were inseparable; Sully recognized he had to convince Sam between the two of them, and until he accomplished that monumental task, they would continue to be amateur thieves at best. There was more to this life than knowing a few tricks here and there; it was something they had yet to realize.
"But what you earn from that little errand might last you a week, tops." After all, Sam had to provide for Nate as well as himself. "If you take on this client, you'll be set for a month... If you didn't get yourself neck deep in debts first." There was no helping the derisive tone behind his words.
Sam wouldn't look at him; he still had too much damned pride to admit his faults. "Who's the client?" He asked rather indignantly.
"Paul Rumlowe." Sully waited for follow-up questions, but they never came. Jesus, Sam and Nate had far too much to learn. "He's about as trustworthy as they come, since you didn't ask, so don't go tarnishin' my reputation. I'm sticking my neck out givin' you this contact."
Nate shifted right before his eyes, visibly unsettled with his outright warning. "Thank you, Sully. We'll let you know how it goes down."
Sam turned to glower at his brother. "I never said-"
"I trust him," Nate asserted firmly. "Besides, we need the money."
"... Fine. We'll keep in touch."
Sully fixed him with a hard stare. "You'd better." Don't leave me wondering if you boys make it out okay.
~ ~ ~
Over the course of the passing months, the three of them settled into an easy, unspoken agreement. Sully occasionally provided the Drake brothers bailouts and in return, they passed on tips regarding items of rarity they managed to track down on their quest for whatever secrets that damned white journal held. They were slowly becoming partners – friends. There were times when he wanted to expect more out of them, but the truth was, he had to content himself with the fact that they kept in touch with him at all. It had to be enough...
At the very least, the brothers had each other.
Sully was starting to lose track of time. Sam had to be twenty-three by now, with Nate just breaching eighteen. The last time Sully saw the brothers, the kid nearly sprouted a foot and he'd packed on more muscle. His attitude also shot up a notch or two...
He was still the same wide-eyed, wanderlust kid, but he was starting to push his luck in ways that left Sully absolutely baffled. Nate and Sam were growing to be a formidable pair, indeed.
In fact, during one of his irregular visits with Nate and Sam, he was surprised to find they were not alone in the middle of the street. Rather, he was despondent to see that their meeting wouldn't be taking place in the quiet space of a local tavern. Being in a new city in Venezuela, Sully was somewhat out of his depths – he didn't have his usual list of names he could use in a tight pinch – so he didn't recognize the man the boys were edging away from, and even a block away he could make out their argument.
"Oh no you don't," The tattooed man snarled in his native language. "You're going to sit right there until the police get here."
Sully saw Sam bristle. "Screw you, pal! We had a deal-"
"Don't you start with that bullshit," Their antagonist barked. "You owe me."
It was Nate's turn to scoff. "For what? You already took our money."
"No good, lying-"
"Hey." Sam stepped forward, glaring. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Everything you owed me is gone, and you bastards are going to get what's coming to you."
"We didn't steal shit," Nate spat.
"Anyone ever tell you your poker face is full of shit?" The man bit back.
For a split second, Sam shot a skeptical glance at his brother.
Jesus Christ, Nate probably did steal from this man, and Sam evidently didn't even know. Kid sure had to work on his ability to lie through his teeth. His arrogance spiked in his very being, as though he could convince himself he was spewing the honest truth, and that other people might fall for his trickery. It was infuriating for Sully to watch at times, such as this very instant.
"Okay." Sully finally reached them, coming to stand at the brothers' side. "I think this is all one big misunderstanding-"
"Who are you?" The man sneered. "Their handler?"
Sully didn't even have a chance to rebuttal the insult. Nate launched himself at the man, landing a solid punch right on his jaw.
"Nathan-"
Sam's initial astonishment evaporated, and he jumped in the fray, tackling their harasser to the ground. Their opposition might have been able to take the brothers on individually, but together they were a force to be reckoned with. While Nate's focus appeared to be centered on pummeling the sorry excuse of a man, Sam grappled to pin him down. They were rough around the edges, but their tag team effort was nothing to sneer at. Still, Sully couldn't stop himself from watching the scuffle with disdain, despite the remarkable display of teamwork before him.
"Enough!" He grabbed their arms when he approached the street brawl, hauling Sam and Nate back from the man.
"Victor-!"
"You're going to regret that, you bastards!"
"Shove it, asshole-"
Sully cut Nate off before he could get them into more trouble, "Stop!" He gave Sam one good shake and directed a scornful glower on the younger sibling. "Let me deal with this shit," He snapped at them in English. He then turned to the man while releasing his boys, saying in Spanish, "I'll handle them, and you will get your money back. Just walk away."
"Sully-"
"Move it," Sully growled, reverting the conversation back to English. He shoved them in the direction of his rental car, leaving the stunned local behind them. "What the hell was that?" He demanded as they rounded the block corner.
"He tried to gyp us!" Nate huffed.
"Did you steal from him?" Sully questioned, steamrolling right passed his pathetic excuse.
Sam pointed a finger at Sully. "He promised us transportation and then he backed out. We took back what's ours."
It was impressive how quick Sam was willing to jump to Nate's defense, as infuriating as it was. Sully pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you two tryin' to make enemies with everyone you meet?"
"He lied to us, Victor!" Sam snapped. "And you're okay with that?"
"I don't make beginner mistakes," Sully growled at him. "I know exactly who I'm dealin' with every time I take on a new job." His biting words hung in the air and, thankfully, the Drake brothers' agitation deflated in the face of his agitation.
Nate lifted a shoulder into a shrug. "What're we supposed to do, just let that asshole win?"
Sully allowed himself to take in their ragged appearance, the dust that constantly coated their clothes, the tired lines in their faces, then let out a slow sigh. "Nah. I'll cover this. Just... cool it for a bit, alright? You might wanna get out of town until this fiasco blows over."
It was maybe one of the few times they truly took his advice, and later that very same day, he dropped them off at the train station, per their request.
After that incident, Sully heard nothing but radio silence, and a part of him wondered if that was the last straw for them, that they felt he overstepped his bounds.
Cutter was the one who had a run in with them most recently, during a contract with a client, which was the first news Sully had of them being alive and well in several weeks. Still, dread nipped at his heels. One day, Sam and Nate were going to push their luck...
Unfortunately, his instincts were never wrong.
His landline in the Tampa rental rang closer to midnight and Sully reflexively answered it, on the off chance they let their messes catch up with them. Sully's blood went close when he heard Nate's heavy breathing on the other end. "What's wrong?"
"I don't... Sully, I dunno what to do-" He choked on his words.
"Spit it out, kid," Sully snapped, panic rising deep within his chest.
"Sam." His voice cracked. "They have Sam, and they're- Sully, they're gonna kill him."
* * * * *
DUN dun DUN
That was fun.
I will also not admit that I may or may not have forgotten today was an uploading day...
I wish I had more to say, but I wrote these chapters so long ago, and we're in the weird little stretch with Chapters 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 where I haven't really made any changes. Everything's more or less preserved, if I remember correctly. Who knows, though. I've altered so many things it's hard to remember. Actually, as I'm writing this, I can't even remember what Chapter 11 is about? That's a terrifying thought. XD
I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, but every story has to have one at some point to keep the readers eager for the next part.
One of the biggest bummers for me is that I actually have two fonts I saved and used for Nate and Sam's handwriting styles, but they don't translate onto Wattpad... It's very unfortunate, because for me it added another layer of storytelling. Sam has more cursive type handwriting (there's a glimpse of it in Nate's journal at the Rossi Estate). For Nate, I actually had him mimic their mother's handwriting. I found two fonts similar to each other, so that was exciting. But alas, instead of showing the audience, I'm just telling you all about it. Peak writing.
If you enjoyed, please leave a vote or a comment as always. :)
~ Sic Parvis Magna