[Closed] Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll

[hellosailor]

Date/Time: January 13th-15th, 2780 
Location: The Ivory Coast
Characters: Nathan Drake, Victor Sullivan, Chloe Frazer, and Charlie Cutter 
Summary: Four grown-ass adults end up in future-past Woodstock and try to learn something of value.
Warning: Drugs, alcohol, violence??? Bad jokes.

Another mission volunteered for finds Sully, Nate, Charlie, and Chloe in the new Transporter room. It wasn't technically their first mission, but it was the first one that demanded real results. And with nothing more to go on than a date and a place there was no telling what they'd run into. They were professionals, though. What could go wrong?

Comments

[alittlesweptup]

[He's been on enough missions at this point to expect the unexpected - or rather, to expect that none of the things the AI pinpoints will have anything to do with his very particular set of skills or, should they, that he'll be grossly handicapped in some way shape or form. So there's really nothing resembling surprise on Charlie's face as his feet don't so much hit the ground as they are just - simply and suddenly - there.

In fact he looks a bit ill: bending over to grip his knees as the nausea of the jump rolls up and over him. He pulls a few deep breaths until he's less likely to be sick all over his shoes and then straightens. Slowly.]

Oh, hello. Would you look at that.

[cyphered]

[Nate, on the other hand, is not as resiliant as Charlie. Coming out of their landing, he makes a noise that hints he definitely just threw up in his mouth a little, and takes just a second longer to get steady on his feet.

When he does, he presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.]

Never going to get used to that, am I?

[He makes a face when he spots the sort of venue they've been dropped in.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Oh, you will. Maybe. [Staying standing long enough to manage not to vomit all over yourself counts for something. Chloe swallows thickly-- shrugs out of weathered leather that still leaves her way overdressed compared to the twenty-somethings flitting about in thongs, pasties and electric wire bikinis that bring back flashbacks of the eighties.

If the eighties were all kinds of perky and bouncing at 138bpm.]

Starting to think we needed disguise tech for this.

[hellosailor]

Come on boys, you'll find your sea-legs eventually.

[Sully didn't puke. You go to sea when you're a kid and you'll puke so much that you never puke again. He could spin upside down in a plane and keep it in. He could drink enough tequila to tranquilize a horse and-

Well ok maybe tequila. But he sure as hell didn't puke from motion sickness.

He took his sweet time admiring the scenery. It was a little more anarchy-in-the-UK than he was used to, but that didn't mean he couldn't admire the view. Eye-searing they may be, but those shorts that left 90% of a girl's ass hanging out were a goddamn miracle. The rest of the place was a wasteland though, not much around to see. Maybe they'd been kicked out of more reasonable locations. Wouldn't be the first time a concert moved to bum-fuck nowhere.]

Come on, we'll manage fine. There's always somebody whose going for a retro look at these things. Besides, I give most of these kids ten minutes before they're so drunk they can't tell a person from a potato.

[alittlesweptup]

[You mean you don't already look like a potato, Sully?

Charlie somehow, miraculously, manages to keep his mouth shut around that one in favor of squinting about their immediate surroundings. The low thrum of noise - that's not music - digs low, makes something bone deep vibrate with every bass thud and it smells of stale beer and cheap, rancid smoke that he can only assume is some futuristic strain of something that pairs nicely with electric bikinis, spiked hair and other poor life choices.]

Looks like the queue's over there. [He inclines his head to a throng of people around a collection of tents as he rolls up his sleeves in a paltry effort to beat the heat.]

[cyphered]

I don't know, Chloe. I think you could manage alright with just an adjustment or two.

[Nate manages to be an ass even when motion sick, and throws her a little smirk as he straightens. He's not about to push his luck with an audience though, so once Charlie points out the line, he will dust himself off and wander off in the direction.

He doesn't bother shedding any layers. That could come later, when it looked less suspicious. The overshirt would take some work to peel off, and there wasn't much he could do about his jeans.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Likewise, I'm sure. [Chloe hardly looks his way when she says it, fingers in her trouser pockets, meandering over to settle into the gathered crowd. It's a scene alive with energy and excitement and the prospect of digging up something useful ought to be more than a little enticing-- but it's not. Not for her, anyway. Not at the moment.

Off day, possibly the impressive age difference, whatever it is she's doing this because it needs doing for the moment, and tomorrow the mood'll have cocked off. She's sure of it.] So what's the plan, lads?

[hellosailor]

[He didn't waste time heading over towards the crowd, looking casual and vaguely interested, just to the left side of Nate. Some form of habit. The crowd was definitely lively, but there was a furtive feeling. Like they were all in danger of being caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.

He shoots Chloe a look, shrugs broadly with a slight shake of his head, and then turns to the nearest stranger, a greasy, skinny guy with mis-matched dreads and a studded vest with a bunch of colored lines on the back. Sully's going to guess it's a flag of some sort.

He fishes a cigar out of his pocket and lights it, easy as pie.]

Hey pal, what brings you here?

lame taaaaag go

[alittlesweptup]

Ask about, apparently.

[Though Sully beats him to the punch. Charlie takes a moment to eye up the guy - kid, really, his face all scarred from acne spots (and it's strangely nice to know that even in the future hooligan youths are plagued by horrific skin conditions) -, and then makes a low clucking noise as the answers to Sully's question are perhaps predictably cagey and unspecific.]

I'll be right back; I'm going to have a look. [He taps Chloe on the shoulder with his knuckles, shoots a glance toward Sully and Nate before shearing off through the press of bodies to get a closer glance at what's happening in the tent. Issuing wrist bands or passes, maybe? Certainly seems like there's a lot of people gathered about for what doesn't really look to be part of the show.]

[totallytrustworthy]

[Chloe turns on her heel when he walks off, nearly taking a half step to follow before she thinks better of it and stuffs her fingers down low against her back pockets. Something prickles up on the back of her neck as she waits, watches the lads go about networking; she's all prickly. Uncomfortable. Mildly, though. Nothing significant enough to note.

If the boys feel like feeling this one out she'll let them do the ground work just this once.]