Disclaimer: Some material in this story may be offensive. It contains fantasy violence and some of the themes may also be suggestive or adult in nature. However it was not the author's intent to offend nor alienate anyone, simply tell an exciting, humorous, and romantic tale based in the world of Classic Tomb Raider, which the author holds no rights to. This work is intend under the parody laws and does not claim any ownership of nor connection to the Tomb Raider properties or its creators/affiliates and so forth.
Chapter 1: Conventional Conventions
"I mean it isth justh not sthcientifically possthible for sthuch an animal to existh." A lisped voice nearly sent spittle across the table and upon her face. She didn't withdraw though, the young woman in khaki shorts with faux leather double holsters, tall white socks, thick brown combat boots, fingerless gloves and a very tight -yet padded- teal sweater. Actually it could have been plastic for all she knew, what ever kind of material it was shined and drew attention directly to her torso- which is exactly what most of these fans were lined up for, well almost most. The unfortunate young man with plastic lens-less glasses and depressing ache nearly whistled through his teeth, "Are you listhening?"
"Yes of course dear, but it's all rather moot I should think, my books aren't fiction." She replied with a wink, smiling her best British smile with her best British accent but behind her slightly red circle sun glasses and in front of her tightly braided brown hair, Lady Lara Croft was thinking something entirely different. She wanted nothing more than to toss the cheap table aside, roll beneath it and through the convention crowds out the white exit door. The chatter of people, the wide wall length windows showing only streets and slowly passing cars, the grey blue carpet and the smell of far too many bodies tightly packed together; her fingers twitched, itching, and she gripped them slightly harder in her faux leather gloves.
Of course, she couldn't; these were her fans and the whole of her career as a writer had suffered since her latest book was banned by the Egyptian government, and being considered for banning in the United Kingdom due to excessive gun use. It didn't help she was on a number of watch lists for suspected involvement in a string of murders throughout the European Union. Monstrum, they called the serial killer, but how could she have convinced them it was not her but an ancient being born of humans and 'angels'? There wasn't enough evidence to clear her, but certainly not enough to convict her thus off she popped with a slap on the wrist and slap dab into the blacklist of most of her old stomping grounds. One of her 'agents', a silly worrisome man by the name of Jonathan, suggested she tried to get it pushed in America, freedom of speech being more peculiar across the pond and controversial figures seen as quite the 'in' thing to be.
She desperately needed the finances and travel was… restricted now, especially after she'd raised even further suspicion by seemingly allowing her ancestral home, Abbingdon Estate, to be blown up and burned down. So there she was. Sitting at a little table, with a little pile of her old books, signing covers and listening to the stricken young man speak about how impossible her books were, though she knew they weren't- she had been there. She could handle the 'controversial figure' chasing fans with their probing questions and insinuations, the belligerent Crytozoologist skeptics who sometimes plagued her little signings and she could even tolerate the fans who wanted pictures with roaming hands but what she could not handle were the hours.
Hours sitting at a little table with a little chair, being polite to all these strangers… who she depended upon to buy her books, bolster her reputation and fund a large amount of the reconstruction. Why on earth her 'agent' had begged and pleaded for her to wear this silly and inaccurate getup from some of her earlier days she had no idea- some kind of iconic symbolism of some such rot. To her though, it was all mere show and tell, and the real world was outside. High in those mountains, or deep beneath the earth, yes… she had been to America before and wanted nothing more than to explore her glorious country once again. But first, she had to deal with the dwindling line of fans.
Five hours she sat at that table for this convention, selling over two hundred books, signing twice as many again, taking god knows how many pictures, and this spittle fellow was the second to last in line. If she could only get him to bugger off, she could sign her last book and be done with everything. But manners were manners, so she waited patiently as the small fellow continued to prattle about inaccuracies in the fossil record and animals unable to support their own weight or some such. She had already signed his book, and his poster, and his little action figure but he still wouldn't leave; he wanted to discuss things, which Lara was happy to do, just not after seventeen hours. She was at the limits of patience and worse, there was another person behind him.
He waited just as impatiently as she, and just as polite to wait his turn none the less. She tried to spy a good look at him, wondering if he would be the chatty type, but the spittle prattler kept moving into her line of sight to make sure she was paying attention. It was somewhat annoying. She had of course gotten a bare bones tactical glimpse of him, which was a part of her training: a tall young man, broad in the shoulders, muscled in the arms with long brown hair. He wore a blue short sleeve shirt, a dark colored pair of cargo pants, and an odd hat. The hat was most notable because it was olive green, one of those bush hats stereotypical of Australian outback online shopping outlets, but it was bent and dipped in an odd way… like a fedora.
Lara didn't usually hash out as much detail about her individual fans like this, but the spittle prattler was driving her to distraction and her hungry mind was keen to keep her awake and focused on something other than the fading carpet, drab walls and ceiling she had stared at for the last hundred hours. Luckily her time was almost up, and in just a few minutes she would be allowed to clock out, and move on. This would of course mean 'Indy' the last in line would only get a quick book sign and maybe a single question before she had to slip away though; she pitied him, waiting patiently, not interrupting, very polite and decent of him. Especially in contrast to the spittle prattler who had been blabbering on for the last thirty minutes. Ten of which 'Indy' had cleared his throat numerous times, all of which were ignored by the spittle prattler.
Finally 'Indy' had given up and gone silent, patiently waiting his turn. In fact if this kept up, Lara wouldn't be able to see him at all and he WAS last in line… Lara cleared her own throat just as the spittle prattler was in the middle of explaining how she must have hallucinated because of the high altitude. "Sorry deary, wonderful chat, but you are rather holding up the line." She pointed out. To which Spittle prattler puffed up, turning red as his acne turned white and Lara sighed inwardly. He was about to launch into a tirade about her not appreciating her fans and so on, she had heard it before. And so he did; his voice raising into octaves that would shame a soprano as he prattled high pitched about how many hours he waited in line, how she was discourteous and lofty and so forth, ignoring that she- and the person behind him- had waited just as long.
Lara had had quite enough by this time, and with a bow of her head, the two figures standing on either side of he table stepped forward. Nondescript people with con lanyards and badges around their necks and con shirts, her 'private security' though they were simple volunteers. What happened next was a lot of fussing, an uncalled for scuffle, and then spittle prattler was being carried out by his arms. The silly display had put Lara right out of her impatient mood and into an irritated mood. Seeing as she no longer had a security escort, she was free then, to leave. Of course, 'Indy' stepped forward as she was packing away her few remaining books. Lara smiled politely but didn't slow down her ready making to leave.
"Ah, Lady Croft, I, Ah…" he began.
Wonderful another stuttering shy fan, it would take him minutes to work up the courage to speak to her. Minutes she didn't have. "Sorry deary, hate to snuff the lantern, but my time is up. You're a bit late and I don't intend to be, so can't stay for a chat; can I sign your book for you?"
"I-I, Oh, I wouldn't- um, I see, you'll, ah…" he tried to say and handed her a few books on the corner of her table which she took and placed in her bag.
He was helping her pack?
"I see you don't have a book with you, sorry love, but I've got to go you see, terrible sorry. Here, have a free one on me." She said, smiling brightly, more for the closeness of her escape then any happiness to see him. It shut him up all the same; she got a good look at him now, he was very pale with a short brown goatee trimmed to a scraggly point on his chin yet running up his jaw line like one Abe Lincoln. He had dark brown eyes and the faint whisper of scars about him, and artists' hands. He was also pudgy. Lara waited a split second as he stared at her with open mouth, giving him an opportunity to at least say something… but he only stared, and then looked away, shy until the end. Lara didn't drop her smile, though she was sad it had to end like this.
It had been such a nice convention.
She gathered her bag, moving around the table, cheerfully, "Alright then, Cheers."
She needn't bother with the display stuff, if the con staff didn't store it she would let Shy Indy have it; that should cheer him up, a life size standing cut out of yours' truly. Lara smiled all the brighter as she continued down the hall way and hustled down the stairs, she was several floors up but there would be no elevators for her today. She blazed by the late night con crowd; including a fellow sitting in an arm chair drawing on a tablet who marked her passing with a kind smile in return. She made it out the door and into the cool night air, fresh air, but with street lights more blinding than the florescent lights from inside the convention. With a squint for her red shades, Lara continued to the parking garage, mindful of cars and curious groups of con-goers heading home.
She'd decided to be inconspicuous today and drove her Shelby cobra, an old fashioned car she enjoyed easy rides in and if America had anything, it was roads. She just managed to scrounge out her keys from the abysmally tight costume shorts, and unlock the door when she heard rapid foot steps echoing in the hollow cement parking garage behind her. Boot steps. She halted and turned her head slightly, wondering if it would be one of 'those fans' that usually waited until she was all alone. It was, however, only Shy Indy from before. He was making very long strides for his hundred ninety odd centimeters or six foot two inches height and puffing while at it. Quite the effort.
"L-Lady Croft!" he called lifting a hand when he saw she saw him; Lara couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed for him, it was kind of sweet chasing after her, title and all that like a school boy, her book clutched tight to his chest. She might spare at least a minute for him… she had rather jilted him of his turn earlier. She considered pausing just long enough to let him catch up and ask whatever question burned so to give him courage enough to run after her, in fact she was a little curious now herself. So instead of getting in, she dumped her bag into the passenger side, but the moment she turned back she saw his eyes widen to spheres as he broke into a run. "LADY CROFT LOOK OU-!"
Lara never caught the last of it. Something light and impossibly silent, pinched the back of her neck. He finger flew up to the source and just managed to feel the feather end of a compact dart as unconsciousness swept her away very rapidly. Her body gripped the door frame, trying to pull and close her into the car for some sort of safety but strong hands pulled at her. A visor helmet bearing the white letters S.W.A.T. shoved her against the side. The boot steps increased, a raw shout, a deafening 'poom' of some kind. The last image in the rapidly darkening world: Shy Indy still running toward her and flinging her book as a projectile, she didn't even feel her body fall.
With a groggy shaking of the room, Lara lifted her eye lids and bit back a yelp by hiding it with a sharp steady intake of air. Alive. Good. She hated chemical tranquilizers, always out of nowhere and always instantaneous, the dosage was tricky too. She did a quick mental check of her physical state and concluded she was tied up at the wrists, ankles, and neck. A convenient lasso to prevent her from struggling- if she moved her cramped legs away from her hands she would strangle herself. She had no other injuries, aside form an ache in her shoulder, which told her she had been thrown into whatever dark room she was now in. With a silent sigh, Lara closed her eyes and tried to feel past the pounding in her head, focus and shut out the pain. Yes, there was a constant hum, road noise; so she was inside the back of a vehicle, most likely a van or truck.
Now the question was… who was kidnapping her and why?
It certainly wasn't the American Special Weapons and Tactics division of the police force, nor even the Federal Bureau of Investigations she'd had to deal with on entering the country. A thousand names on a hundred lists for a hundred thousand reasons flooded her thoughts, only increasing the pain between her temples. A haze of after effects from the drug in her system kept any one from being specific enough to prepare her, not that even the most dead on of guesses would somehow aid her in this situation. The enclosed room smelled strongly of urine, a wonderful underline to her whole situation but at least she wasn't tasting her own blood. She left out an uncomfortable moan and licked dry lips, this wasn't getting her any-
"Lady Croft?" a low whisper asked. Lara nearly jumped, instead she blinked heavily, though it was futile in the absolute darkness of the room. Lara remained silent. It could have been a guard, in which case she may receive another dart if they thought her awake, or it could have been someone more sinister just waiting to begin torture, or it could have been any number of other things- none of which needed to know she was awake just yet. She tried to force the dizziness from her head and concentrate on her surroundings, if she- "Lady Croft are you alright?" the gentle whisper again.
Lara froze, that voice was slightly familiar. The way it said her title, it couldn't be… Shy Indy? Lara desperately tried to think back if she knew him from somewhere else, had she seen him before? Had they met in some dusty tomb somewhere ages ago that she had long forgotten? Maybe a driver from a jeep ride deep in the jungles? She had had plenty of guides and workers over the years, so many it was hard to keep faces and voices together. Lara heard shuffling and instantly went ridged. She had no real defense like this, if she tired a double booted kick she would pull terribly on her neck; she could roll or possibly get on her knees for a head-butt, but not much else.
The shuffling stopped silent again, and Lara began to feel slightly paranoid.
With the pounding in her head, and the darkness, it was possible whoever they were was at this very moment sneaking up with some wicked inten- there came a most peculiar sound. Someone was holding their breath, gagging, choking, and straining. Lara powered through the drug haze and tried to make sense of the noise. There was a sudden intake of air, straining, then choking and gagging until finally someone released air and began coughing. Then the process would start all over again. Was he torturing someone else before her? Or- suddenly a clear mental image assaulted Lara's mind, "Stop that!" She ordered quickly. Instantly the gagging stopped and she was startled to realize she had guessed right. Apparently her shy fan had been tussled up just like her, probably for trying to interfere and was now trying to escape his bonds, by strangling himself.
"Lady Croft-" A very harsh throat tried to ask. The idiot was killing himself to get free, why? "Are you… Alr-" he went into sudden coughs again and Lara sighed inwardly once more. Was he trying to save her? That had to be it, he had heard her moan and thought she was in pain so struggled against his bonds to help her? Wonderful, so Shy Indy was actually the 'hero' type? The kind of fool who got themselves killed trying to help others. Her heart went out to him, he was trying to help and that would mean he wasn't acting against her, but she would have to help him escape as well. A very difficult task if he was the type to willing sacrifice himself, for her, with stupid decisions.
"Listen here, you stop that at once, don't move do you understand? Just breath normally, in and out, there's a good fellow." She said calmly. So she had to baby-sit a well meaning fan in a life threatening situation; she couldn't be too angry though, if she had just stayed a few minutes longer he wouldn't have felt the need to chase her down, and whoever it was couldn't possibly have been targeting him, so he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were after her, he had leaped to her 'rescue', so really it was all her fault he was in this mess with her. None the less, she wouldn't have him killing himself foolishly- at least now that there were two of them they could possibly help each other escape. She listened to make sure he was breathing adequately again, and then chanced talking to him more. "Alright, now, who are you?"
There was silence a moment longer and then the strangled voice came back in a gargle which Lara immediately knew meant he had tried very hard indeed to free himself, despite the pain. She couldn't make out most of what he said yet wouldn't ask him to repeat himself; "…but…everybody calls me… kitty…"
Lara blinked. That she had caught, simply because she didn't believe it.
"Alright Kitty," she couldn't help but smile even as she whispered, turning her head alertly. "I want you to listen carefully and stay very calm. I assume you are bound as I am, so none of that struggling to break free nonsense, unless you have a knife you wish to tell me about, there is only one way out of this kind of hog tie. Understand?"
An attempt of not choking answered her affirmatively.
"Good. Now, remain calm and I want you to scrape your foot lightly, I'm coming over to you okay?" she whispered. There was a few moments of silence and then a gentle scraping of boot rubber on metal; Lara pinpointed his position in the darkness and set about inching her way closer to him. Shoulder to elbow, elbow to hip, hip to knee she crawled- not risking a roll because it might alert their captors and might injure her or him in this pitch darkness. She neared closer and closer to the noise when her knee just bumped something solid and roughly clothed, like jeans. "There!" she whispered kindly, the last thing she needed was panic. "Now, by the sound of my voice, am I facing you?"
She listened carefully as the body next to her shifted slightly, and then she felt the fabric move away, a grunt, and then she felt breath on her face as he flopped over. He rasped again, though his voice was getting stronger, "I think… you are now."
"Wonderful, now, I'm going to need your help alright?" she calmly instructed.
"Alright." He answered, his voice a touch on edge none the less.
"Good, take it easy, keep breathing. Now, I want you to lean forward until your forehead touches my belly or you bonk my forehead, which ever comes first, okay?" she said cheerfully, keeping a light tone so shy hero would listen. She heard a slow shuffle then the breath came much closer and a nose poked the top of her head. "Oh! There you are! Miscalculated, don't panic, let me just scootch up a bit. There's a good man."
He tried to reply, swallowed harshly, but did remain still.
Lara grit her teeth and strained again as she moved upwards, judging by his breath where she would need to stop. "Okay, now, bow your head again and you should land your teeth right on the ropes by my neck, okay?" The forced regular breathing dipped again and she 'felt' the presence of a head dip past her chin, his face radiated heat- so either he was blushing, or had a concussion. She hoped it was the former because she knew there was no way she could get him to stay awake as she was. Again the nose poked her jaw and then moved slowly down with a tiny apology. She felt a dim nudge about her neck, and then a sharp pull. "Wait wait, slowly, and again..." The pressure stopped, then began to pull once more. Lara gauged. "Alright, let go, gently."
She sighed. Blast it. They had tripled loops around her neck. He was pulling on the last loop of the rope and she felt two other lines tightening for his pulling. It would most likely be the same or worse around her wrists and legs. The question then, where was the connecting knot for all of them? Lara took a few moments to trace the discomfort around her body and shift experimentally until she could triangulate where the tightest, tautest points were. If she was tripled looped around her neck, hands and ankles, the thick knot of all three ropes would be directly between her wrists and ankles, but, it would be triple knotted there and possibly looped so she wouldn't have the chance to work it free if she had- say a partner who could use his teeth on it right beside her.
Great. So. This meant they had adapted their plan and her capture to the new element, and that meant her opponents were smart. It would take him forever to chew through the triple looped rope around her neck, hands or ankles one by one and she certainly couldn't position herself to expose the knot in the small of her back, not with her boots in the way. Lara took a deep breath, speaking very calmly and carefully, "Okay, Kitty, this is what I want you to do. As you can tell I've got three loops around my neck, so that means I've three lines of rope keeping me tied- I'm hoping they didn't tie you the same way but from your struggles earlier that is what I'm assuming they have done, So!, we aren't going to be able to break any of these bonds with brute force understand?"
"I wasn't…" he said sheepishly, then silenced. Lara listened waiting for him to continue, but he remained quiet, breathing on her as the heat increased.
"Wasn't?" she prompted with a touch of fear, if he was falling asleep…
"Trying to burst the…" he continued and then took a deep breath. "I wasn't trying to break the rope, it's too thick. I was trying to reach this, part just below my neck. There's only two lines there and it would let me move my ankles… if I got my chin under them, but I needed slack..." He answered in a calm matter of fact tone.
Lara raised her eyebrows, "How do you know that?"
"I've been awake for… one hour, possible an hour and a half, and have been trying to wiggle free, I've got… um… a lot of rope burn… er… everywhere… but, there." He explained analytically. "My chest that is, It feels like there is only two ropes which kind of loops over itself around this diamond shape around my belly."
Lara paused; closing her eyes again, she concentrated on the ropes and wiggled her hips. He was right, there was a noticeable diamond shape around her belly where the rope was only doubled in four directions. She grinned. "Clever bugger."
"What, bug?" he asked carefully.
"Not you. Whoever has us, they knew we would have time to wake up and have thickened the ropes just so that we wouldn't be able to chew our way out without some difficulty." Lara answered in a measured, calming voice again, "Now, hold still."
She heard Kitty stiffen and then she bowed her head until her nose touched the ropes beneath his chin. One, two, three loops, just like hers. Using her lips and cheek she traced her way down the line of his chest and lo and behold, he was correct, there was only two lines there, much easier to chew through… then her nose bumped into the knots. One, two, three, four; all lined down his chest around his belly, splitting off in four directions. Her captors were very thorough indeed- and of a level of sadistic she'd rarely met- they had not only lopped the connecting rope, but had actually tied smaller sections of ropes around the loops so even if she did chew through the lines, the section would still stay tied a while compartmentally. Bondage worthy of the seediest of circles.
She might free his neck so he wouldn't strangle himself, but that would require at least a good half hour of chewing; if she was going to spend that long gnawing upon a rope she at least wanted to get something useful, like his legs free. Perturbed Lara followed the line of ropes until she passed over his belly and near his waist. Beautiful. The ropes tripled again. So, her captors had thought that far ahead had they? Knew she would try to chew through his bonds so refortified the most useful of areas. It would take her two hours to get his legs free at this rate. Lara signed and curled back up onto her side. This was getting her nowhere and the frustration was driving her bonkers.
Lara shifted uncomfortably, just to check, and discovered something extremely interesting. Two lines. Lara shifted again and confirmed, yes, there were only two lines leading to her legs. Suddenly encouraged Lara whispered quickly. "Kitty, bow your head and trace the ropes around my belly, tell me how many you feel?" There was an awkward moment of silence and then the slow breath came closer and his nose again bonked her chin, and flowed down. He shuffled and followed with his cheeks down her neck, just as she had done, until he stopped dead. Lara whispered hurriedly but kindly, hiding suspicion and alarm with urgency. "What are you doing?"
"Your… I mean m-my face is…" he stammered quietly.
Lara knit her brow in confusion, and then exhaled in exasperation. "We're in a life and death situation and you're worried about coping a fell with your face? Oh get on with it!" she said tersely, though honestly she was somewhat flattered he didn't dive right in. Not many men would have. Or women. Again there was an awkward moment of silence and then a chin, a very respectful chin, tried to follow the line down between her breasts- but it stopped suddenly, before Lara could sigh again, Kitty spoke.
"I only feel one!" His headed lifted away.
Lara blinked. "One… rope?" she dared to ask.
She heard silence and figured out that Kitty must have been nodding his head, though she couldn't see him in the dark. "I mean yes, look, er, I mean… oh! Grg!" he said before immodestly dipping his head square between her bosom, grabbing the rope with his teeth and pulling gently to the side. Lara was instantly aware that only a single, if not thick, rope lead from the triple rings around her neck to the double ropes around her belly. This was glorious! Had they used less rope on her because she was the slighter frame? Or had her shy hero actually put up quiet a fight and they deemed it necessary to fortify his own bonds greater? Or maybe they simply didn't have enough rope for two? Why, it should only take him half an hour or less to chew through a single rope, and if she had her neck free…! At last a break, now this picked up her day considerably.
"Oh you darling you! Quickly, start chewing!" she whispered happily.
"Are you sure, I mean it's right there…"
She kiboshed his modesty with a tch of her tongue. "Life and death; besides it's mostly padding anyway, and it should do to make up for dry mouth, raw lips and the ropey bits stuck in your teeth for a week after." She said with a smile he couldn't see. His hesitation was evident none the less, and she risked pulling on the ropes around her neck to dip forward and touch his forehead with her own. "A lady shouldn't have to ask twice." she chided quietly. That decided him. Again with mumbled apologies she waited stoically as he pressed his face firmly between her bosom and began to chew. It was one of the more memorably ridiculous moments of her adventuring career.