Author Disclaimer: Not mine, ok? Only the plot...Yes, there IS a
plot.....belongs to me...Kinda. I borrowed the events from the AoD game,
but I am writing it how I think it went for our beloved Mr. Trent. Though
I'm warning you that some things may have been altered slightly. Just
thought I'd say that. I don't want any die-hard TR fans to sue me because I
didn't stick EXACTLY to the story.
Not that they'd get anything anyway. I'm broke....Again. ¬_¬
Chapter one- Waiting......And waiting......And yet more waiting.....
The man named Kurtis Trent sat in a corner of the seedy brasserie, Cafe Metro. Kurtis was a tall man, his cropped raven black hair framing his solemn face, with two startlingly blue eyes which seemed to bore into a person's mind if they dared to peer into their depth. He glanced lazily at the cafe owner before returning to the French newspaper which was open on the table infront of him. Kurtis sighed wearily. Why was he even bothering? He didn't understand a word of French, and considering all of them knew English, what was the point in learning it anyway? A soft clearing of a throat brought Kurtis to his senses. He looked up at the cafe owner, Pierre, who was regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes. Pierre was a skinny man of about thirty. He had a pale, sickly face, and always wore an expression of one who has just heard something unamusing.
"Yeah?" Kurtis said, smirking a little as the Frenchman flinched at his outburst.
"I was only coming to ask you if you wanted anything." Pierre said, regaining his confidence.
"Oh in that case," Kurtis began, "You bring me a coffee."
"Very well." Pierre scuttled off and began to prepare the drink. Moments later, he came back, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.
"Thanks." Kurtis gave him a whimsical smile and returned to the non- readable paper, expecting Pierre to resume his cafe duties. But when he heard no sound of retreating feet, he looked up and saw that the cafe owner perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, his eyes fixed on Kurtis. He did this for some time before speaking slowly and thoughtfully.
"You've been in here all day. Most people come in here, have a drink, then leave again." Pierre said incredulously. "But not you. Who are you waiting for?"
"No-one." Came the sullen reply. But Pierre wasn't easily put off.
"Oh really? Then what are you up to? I would have thrown you out long ago..."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because you provide business." Pierre said simply. Kurtis rolled his eyes. "So I ignored anything which appeared to be a little suspicious." He continued, studying Kurtis closely. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing which concerns you." Kurtis said coolly.
"It concerns me if it involves trouble on my premises." Pierre retorted.
"Look." Kurtis said, trying to remain calm. "How much do I have to pay you to shut it?" Pierre shrugged.
"Depends."
"Ok." Kurtis reached for his wallet and pulled out several bank notes. "There. One hundred and sixty Euros." He held them out towards Pierre. Pierre made to grab them, but Kurtis closed his fingers around the notes and drew his hand back. "Not so fast." He said, looking the man in the eyes. "If you let alone, you keep the money." Pierre nodded fervently. "If you DON'T," Kurtis continued, "Then rest assured you will get something you didn't expect. Understand?"
"Of course, of course..." Pierre said, eyeing the money in Kurtis's hand.
"Good." Kurtis uncurled his fingers and held out his hand towards Pierre. Pierre snatched the money greedily off his outstretched palm and began thumbing through the notes, counting them. The phone rang. Pierre muttered a hurried 'Merci' before dashing off to answer it.
"It was no problem....Anything to shut that goddamn schmooze up." Kurtis spat. He let his eyes wander to the window on his left and stared out onto the deserted Parisian street. "C'mon Ms. Croft." He muttered, glancing up at the tasteless diner clock hanging above the counter. "God.....Nearly eight hours I've been sat on my ass waiting.." He rubbed his temples and staredat the Renault Clio car advert. "Va Va Voom?" He said, frowning. "God. The French are weirder than I thought." Kurtis shrugged and flicked through the relationships section, a small sneer forming on his lips. The bell rang as the cafe door was opened. Kurtis's head snapped up immediately. A tall woman with long, dark brown hair and wearing jeans and a jean jacket was making her way towards Pierre. "That's her." Kurtis said under his breath. "That's the Croft lady." He listened intently to her conversation with Pierre, though it was hard work trying to make out what she was saying- She was obviously making an effort to keep her voice down. Pierre on the other hand, clearly had no volume control what-so-ever, and continued talking in his loud drawl, much to the annoyance of Croft, and to Kurtis's advantage.
"I'm looking for Louis Bouchard." Lara said, glancing around the cafe. Her eyes fell upon Kurtis and she whirled around again, lowering her voice further still. "I want to know where I can find him." Louis Bouchard? Kurtis made a mental note of that name. Maybe he could help locate Eckhardt. After hearing all he needed to, Kurtis lost interest in the conversation- He would askPierre about this Bouchard once Ms. Croft had gone on her way. He kept watch on the two of them whilst pretending to read the paper. Within five minutes, Lara had finished and left the cafe. This was his cue to get moving. He stood, threw a few coins onto the table and headed towards the counter where Pierre stood.
"So this Louis Bouchard," Kurtis began, "Who is he exactly?" Pierre looked uneasily around the cafe.
"Well...He...Uh..."
"I'm waiting."
"He's a Parisian crime lord. He runs Le Serpent Rouge, you know, the club."
"Right. And I'll find him there?" Pierre fell silent. "And I'll find him there?" Kurtis repeated, losing his patience with the man.
"Well...Uh...." Pierre said, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Will I?!" Kurtis said, reaching for the Boran X at his side.
"No!" Pierre said hurridly, "No you won't."
"Ok. Then where?"
"I....I don't know..."
"Oh come on..." Kurtis snarled, pulling the Boran X out of it's holster and toying with it, absent-mindedly.
"No really....I don't know..." Pierre squeaked, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Kurtis stopped, and lent in towards Pierre.
"Are you sure?" There was a click of a reloading gun, and very soon Pierre felt the cold barrel of the Boran X pressed to his head, right between the eyes.
"Yes...Yes I'm sure!"
"Well in that case...You leave me no choice, Pierre." Kurtis's finger tightened on the trigger.
"No wait!" Pierre said pleadingly. "I know someone who will know where to find him."
"Now that's more like it." Kurtis said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "So who knows where to find Bouchard then?"
"The red lady....Janice..." Pierre said, his voice shaking a little. "She is on the corner near Le Serpent Rouge. You can't miss her." Clearly satisfied, Kurtis removed the gun from Pierre's head, flicked the safety catch on and holstered it.
"Thanks. And Pierre, if you're lying, and she doesn't know where Bouchard is, then I will come back and do what the lady who asked for him before me said she would do if she was....misled, so to speak." Kurtis turned, dashed to the door, threw it open and left, leaving a sweaty, pale- faced Pierre behind. He jumped onto his bike and sped off down the street in the direction of Le Serpent Rouge.
The derelict club soon came into view, looming out of the dusty Parisian air like a ship-wreck rising in a storm. Pulling into a sidestreet, Kurtis hopped off the motorbike and sprinted towards the front of the club. He walked up to the huge wooden doors and began to examine them, trying to find a way in. From the shadows, a woman clad in red watched him. She rolled her eyes and took a long drag on her cigarette before throwing it to the ground and squashing it with a stiletto heel.
"Excuse me." She began, making her way daintily towards Kurtis. He spun around to face her. "You can't get in there, you know. The place has been shut for weeks."
"What?" He studied her closely, and took in her heavily made up face, bleach-blond hair and blood red clothes. "Oh. You must be Janice."
"Oui. C'est moi." Janice said, nodding her head.
"I was told you know where Bouchard is." Janice laughed.
"Who said you that?" She asked, frowning. "I know nothing of his whereabouts."
"A man named Pierre, at the Cafe Metro."
"Oh him." Janice said casually, as she reached into her bag and pulled out some cigarettes. She popped one in her mouth and lit up.
"So he lied to me then."
"In a way, yes." She said bluntly.
"Great." Kurtis spat bitterly on the floor. "So you know no-one who can direct me to Bouchard?"
"Well....You can try Bernard....You can find him in the park....But...He's miserable- He doesn't co-operate that much."
"I'm sure he will be only to glad to help once I'm through with him."
"If you're sure..." Janice said doubtfully.
"Yeah. I am. Thanks." Kurtis inclined his head slightly before heading back to his bike. Janice sighed and continued to smoke her cigarette.
"Now to the park..." Kurtis said to himself as he started up the motorbike. He glanced up and saw the Croft woman again. Scowling, he revved the engine several times before speeding off down the street, leaving Lara choking on the dust.
Pulling up outside St. Aicard's church, Kurtis leapt off the bike and made his way towards the big, wrought iron gates of the park.
"Ok Bernard. You'd better work with me here." He muttered before pushing the gate open and stepping onto the sandy path. Sure enough, as Janice said, a man wearing a dusty brown coat was there, who Kurtis had to assume was Bernard, ex-janitor for Le Serpent Rouge. Kurtis cleared his throat loudly, and the old man shuffled around the face him.
"What do you want?" He snapped. "Go away. I'm busy."
"Oh really. Doing what exactly?" Kurtis said, his eyebrows raised. "To me, it looks like you're wandering around the park, doing jack-shit. Though I could be wrong. Now....I need your help."
"Why should I help you when you give me attitude like that?" Bernard said, turning his back on Kurtis. Calmly, Kurtis reached for his trusty Boran X and removed it from it's holster, pressing it to the back of Bernard's head.
"That is why, my friend. Now tell me, where do I find Bouchard?"
"Underground...Deep underground...." Bernard wheezed, "In St. Aicard's graveyard."
"Good....Now I feel as if I'm getting somewhere."
"The statue....Of the Angel. In there."
"Ok."
"But you'll need to get past the doorman."
"How?"
"With a password."
"Which is?" Kurtis asked, keeping the barrel of the gun pressed to Bernard's head.
"Pluit Noir." Kurtis removed the gun and put it back in it's rightful place.
"Thanks." Kurtis turned to go. "Oh." He faced Bernard again. "If you see that idiot Pierre around, tell him he's a dead man."
"Uh...Very well...."
"Good." Kurtis spun on his heel and left through the open gate. "Louis Bouchard, here I come."
There! What do you think? Hopefully nothing too bad. Heh. ;) Constructive critiscism is welcomed. R&R people!!
Chapter one- Waiting......And waiting......And yet more waiting.....
The man named Kurtis Trent sat in a corner of the seedy brasserie, Cafe Metro. Kurtis was a tall man, his cropped raven black hair framing his solemn face, with two startlingly blue eyes which seemed to bore into a person's mind if they dared to peer into their depth. He glanced lazily at the cafe owner before returning to the French newspaper which was open on the table infront of him. Kurtis sighed wearily. Why was he even bothering? He didn't understand a word of French, and considering all of them knew English, what was the point in learning it anyway? A soft clearing of a throat brought Kurtis to his senses. He looked up at the cafe owner, Pierre, who was regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes. Pierre was a skinny man of about thirty. He had a pale, sickly face, and always wore an expression of one who has just heard something unamusing.
"Yeah?" Kurtis said, smirking a little as the Frenchman flinched at his outburst.
"I was only coming to ask you if you wanted anything." Pierre said, regaining his confidence.
"Oh in that case," Kurtis began, "You bring me a coffee."
"Very well." Pierre scuttled off and began to prepare the drink. Moments later, he came back, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.
"Thanks." Kurtis gave him a whimsical smile and returned to the non- readable paper, expecting Pierre to resume his cafe duties. But when he heard no sound of retreating feet, he looked up and saw that the cafe owner perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, his eyes fixed on Kurtis. He did this for some time before speaking slowly and thoughtfully.
"You've been in here all day. Most people come in here, have a drink, then leave again." Pierre said incredulously. "But not you. Who are you waiting for?"
"No-one." Came the sullen reply. But Pierre wasn't easily put off.
"Oh really? Then what are you up to? I would have thrown you out long ago..."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because you provide business." Pierre said simply. Kurtis rolled his eyes. "So I ignored anything which appeared to be a little suspicious." He continued, studying Kurtis closely. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing which concerns you." Kurtis said coolly.
"It concerns me if it involves trouble on my premises." Pierre retorted.
"Look." Kurtis said, trying to remain calm. "How much do I have to pay you to shut it?" Pierre shrugged.
"Depends."
"Ok." Kurtis reached for his wallet and pulled out several bank notes. "There. One hundred and sixty Euros." He held them out towards Pierre. Pierre made to grab them, but Kurtis closed his fingers around the notes and drew his hand back. "Not so fast." He said, looking the man in the eyes. "If you let alone, you keep the money." Pierre nodded fervently. "If you DON'T," Kurtis continued, "Then rest assured you will get something you didn't expect. Understand?"
"Of course, of course..." Pierre said, eyeing the money in Kurtis's hand.
"Good." Kurtis uncurled his fingers and held out his hand towards Pierre. Pierre snatched the money greedily off his outstretched palm and began thumbing through the notes, counting them. The phone rang. Pierre muttered a hurried 'Merci' before dashing off to answer it.
"It was no problem....Anything to shut that goddamn schmooze up." Kurtis spat. He let his eyes wander to the window on his left and stared out onto the deserted Parisian street. "C'mon Ms. Croft." He muttered, glancing up at the tasteless diner clock hanging above the counter. "God.....Nearly eight hours I've been sat on my ass waiting.." He rubbed his temples and staredat the Renault Clio car advert. "Va Va Voom?" He said, frowning. "God. The French are weirder than I thought." Kurtis shrugged and flicked through the relationships section, a small sneer forming on his lips. The bell rang as the cafe door was opened. Kurtis's head snapped up immediately. A tall woman with long, dark brown hair and wearing jeans and a jean jacket was making her way towards Pierre. "That's her." Kurtis said under his breath. "That's the Croft lady." He listened intently to her conversation with Pierre, though it was hard work trying to make out what she was saying- She was obviously making an effort to keep her voice down. Pierre on the other hand, clearly had no volume control what-so-ever, and continued talking in his loud drawl, much to the annoyance of Croft, and to Kurtis's advantage.
"I'm looking for Louis Bouchard." Lara said, glancing around the cafe. Her eyes fell upon Kurtis and she whirled around again, lowering her voice further still. "I want to know where I can find him." Louis Bouchard? Kurtis made a mental note of that name. Maybe he could help locate Eckhardt. After hearing all he needed to, Kurtis lost interest in the conversation- He would askPierre about this Bouchard once Ms. Croft had gone on her way. He kept watch on the two of them whilst pretending to read the paper. Within five minutes, Lara had finished and left the cafe. This was his cue to get moving. He stood, threw a few coins onto the table and headed towards the counter where Pierre stood.
"So this Louis Bouchard," Kurtis began, "Who is he exactly?" Pierre looked uneasily around the cafe.
"Well...He...Uh..."
"I'm waiting."
"He's a Parisian crime lord. He runs Le Serpent Rouge, you know, the club."
"Right. And I'll find him there?" Pierre fell silent. "And I'll find him there?" Kurtis repeated, losing his patience with the man.
"Well...Uh...." Pierre said, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Will I?!" Kurtis said, reaching for the Boran X at his side.
"No!" Pierre said hurridly, "No you won't."
"Ok. Then where?"
"I....I don't know..."
"Oh come on..." Kurtis snarled, pulling the Boran X out of it's holster and toying with it, absent-mindedly.
"No really....I don't know..." Pierre squeaked, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Kurtis stopped, and lent in towards Pierre.
"Are you sure?" There was a click of a reloading gun, and very soon Pierre felt the cold barrel of the Boran X pressed to his head, right between the eyes.
"Yes...Yes I'm sure!"
"Well in that case...You leave me no choice, Pierre." Kurtis's finger tightened on the trigger.
"No wait!" Pierre said pleadingly. "I know someone who will know where to find him."
"Now that's more like it." Kurtis said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "So who knows where to find Bouchard then?"
"The red lady....Janice..." Pierre said, his voice shaking a little. "She is on the corner near Le Serpent Rouge. You can't miss her." Clearly satisfied, Kurtis removed the gun from Pierre's head, flicked the safety catch on and holstered it.
"Thanks. And Pierre, if you're lying, and she doesn't know where Bouchard is, then I will come back and do what the lady who asked for him before me said she would do if she was....misled, so to speak." Kurtis turned, dashed to the door, threw it open and left, leaving a sweaty, pale- faced Pierre behind. He jumped onto his bike and sped off down the street in the direction of Le Serpent Rouge.
The derelict club soon came into view, looming out of the dusty Parisian air like a ship-wreck rising in a storm. Pulling into a sidestreet, Kurtis hopped off the motorbike and sprinted towards the front of the club. He walked up to the huge wooden doors and began to examine them, trying to find a way in. From the shadows, a woman clad in red watched him. She rolled her eyes and took a long drag on her cigarette before throwing it to the ground and squashing it with a stiletto heel.
"Excuse me." She began, making her way daintily towards Kurtis. He spun around to face her. "You can't get in there, you know. The place has been shut for weeks."
"What?" He studied her closely, and took in her heavily made up face, bleach-blond hair and blood red clothes. "Oh. You must be Janice."
"Oui. C'est moi." Janice said, nodding her head.
"I was told you know where Bouchard is." Janice laughed.
"Who said you that?" She asked, frowning. "I know nothing of his whereabouts."
"A man named Pierre, at the Cafe Metro."
"Oh him." Janice said casually, as she reached into her bag and pulled out some cigarettes. She popped one in her mouth and lit up.
"So he lied to me then."
"In a way, yes." She said bluntly.
"Great." Kurtis spat bitterly on the floor. "So you know no-one who can direct me to Bouchard?"
"Well....You can try Bernard....You can find him in the park....But...He's miserable- He doesn't co-operate that much."
"I'm sure he will be only to glad to help once I'm through with him."
"If you're sure..." Janice said doubtfully.
"Yeah. I am. Thanks." Kurtis inclined his head slightly before heading back to his bike. Janice sighed and continued to smoke her cigarette.
"Now to the park..." Kurtis said to himself as he started up the motorbike. He glanced up and saw the Croft woman again. Scowling, he revved the engine several times before speeding off down the street, leaving Lara choking on the dust.
Pulling up outside St. Aicard's church, Kurtis leapt off the bike and made his way towards the big, wrought iron gates of the park.
"Ok Bernard. You'd better work with me here." He muttered before pushing the gate open and stepping onto the sandy path. Sure enough, as Janice said, a man wearing a dusty brown coat was there, who Kurtis had to assume was Bernard, ex-janitor for Le Serpent Rouge. Kurtis cleared his throat loudly, and the old man shuffled around the face him.
"What do you want?" He snapped. "Go away. I'm busy."
"Oh really. Doing what exactly?" Kurtis said, his eyebrows raised. "To me, it looks like you're wandering around the park, doing jack-shit. Though I could be wrong. Now....I need your help."
"Why should I help you when you give me attitude like that?" Bernard said, turning his back on Kurtis. Calmly, Kurtis reached for his trusty Boran X and removed it from it's holster, pressing it to the back of Bernard's head.
"That is why, my friend. Now tell me, where do I find Bouchard?"
"Underground...Deep underground...." Bernard wheezed, "In St. Aicard's graveyard."
"Good....Now I feel as if I'm getting somewhere."
"The statue....Of the Angel. In there."
"Ok."
"But you'll need to get past the doorman."
"How?"
"With a password."
"Which is?" Kurtis asked, keeping the barrel of the gun pressed to Bernard's head.
"Pluit Noir." Kurtis removed the gun and put it back in it's rightful place.
"Thanks." Kurtis turned to go. "Oh." He faced Bernard again. "If you see that idiot Pierre around, tell him he's a dead man."
"Uh...Very well...."
"Good." Kurtis spun on his heel and left through the open gate. "Louis Bouchard, here I come."
There! What do you think? Hopefully nothing too bad. Heh. ;) Constructive critiscism is welcomed. R&R people!!