On and upwards, upwards and onwards sped the rocket-propelled grenade
through the still night air. The glint of its exhaust flame caught Lara's
eye as it reached the apex of its curve.
Downwards now it sped until it could go no further. It crashed through the safety glass of Lara's greenhouse and exploded violently.
"My prize Orchids!" exclaimed Lara, followed by a word that would make a hardcore rapper cringe. She picked up her binoculars and looked at where the missile had come from. A tall blonde man wielding a launcher tube was scampering into the small copse in her mansion grounds.
"Hilary! Seal the gates!"
"Yes, ma'am." Hilary scampered off.
Lara headed for her armory, and selected a huge flame-thrower. Followed by Hilary, she walked up to the copse and trained the weapon on the trees.
"Don't you want whoever's in there alive, Lara?" Said Hilary.
"When have you ever known me to take prisoners?" she asked.
"Don't you want to know who's responsible for destroying the orchids just a day before the competition?"
"I'll leave that for forensiscs."
She cocked the massive weapon and took off the safety catch. Hilary saw the Cyrillic lettering on the fuel tank.
"Lara, before you use that thing, why does it have a hammer and sickle symbol on the side?"
"This baby's so powerful, it never left the borders of the Soviet Union, back in the Cold War days, though it could've come up in China, too. Too powerful to be considered safe in the more capitalist countries of the day. I got it from St. Petersburg for a hundred quid."
Before Hilary could stop her, she had started firing. In a matter of seconds there was nothing worthy of note in the pile of ash where the copse was.
"Greenpeace won't be too pleased with that!"
"Talk to the flamethrower."
Just as Lara considered what her next sentence would be, she saw the tall blonde man escaping over the walls.
Next morning, Lara had followed the tracks made by the man to an apartment building in the town. She noted the names next to the doorbell buttons. Von Croy, Larson, Pimms and Clinton.
She was tempted to take out Clinton's apartment, but then realized that the president one didn't live here. She decided to start with Von Croy. She entered the building, up one flight of stairs and opened his door.
Inside, she found him french-kissing Pimms. Revolted, she shuddered.
"Von Croy!"
"mmm. mwahmwahmwah. what?"
"Why are you kissing Pimms? And, more importantly, why are you both wearing milkmaid's outfits?"
Slightly embarrassed, Pimms ran off.
"If the music of Gilbert and Sullivan has taught me nothing else." Began Von Croy ".And it hasn't, it's that the milkmaid always gets the man she wants."
"Von Croy, leave Gilbert and Sullivan out of this." Lara went over to the record player and threw his copy of 'Patience' out of the window, lethally wounding a cat. She began searching his apartment. "Anyway, you'll catch your death of cold in that outfit." Von Croy missed the irony of that sentence.
"What are you doing?" He exclaimed, as she rifled through his bureau.
"Aha!" Lara said. "You're the judge for the annual flower show today!"
"What has that got to do with anything?"
"You." Started Lara, but then she noticed that Von Croy was skinnier, less blonde and slower than the man who had destroyed her flowers. She kicked over a vase and went to Pimm's apartment. He was in the kitchen, drinking alcoholic drinks with his own name on it. He was too drunk to speak, so Lara searched his apartment, but found nothing incriminating.
Next, Larson's apartment.
End of Chapter One. lemme know what you think, plesae.
Downwards now it sped until it could go no further. It crashed through the safety glass of Lara's greenhouse and exploded violently.
"My prize Orchids!" exclaimed Lara, followed by a word that would make a hardcore rapper cringe. She picked up her binoculars and looked at where the missile had come from. A tall blonde man wielding a launcher tube was scampering into the small copse in her mansion grounds.
"Hilary! Seal the gates!"
"Yes, ma'am." Hilary scampered off.
Lara headed for her armory, and selected a huge flame-thrower. Followed by Hilary, she walked up to the copse and trained the weapon on the trees.
"Don't you want whoever's in there alive, Lara?" Said Hilary.
"When have you ever known me to take prisoners?" she asked.
"Don't you want to know who's responsible for destroying the orchids just a day before the competition?"
"I'll leave that for forensiscs."
She cocked the massive weapon and took off the safety catch. Hilary saw the Cyrillic lettering on the fuel tank.
"Lara, before you use that thing, why does it have a hammer and sickle symbol on the side?"
"This baby's so powerful, it never left the borders of the Soviet Union, back in the Cold War days, though it could've come up in China, too. Too powerful to be considered safe in the more capitalist countries of the day. I got it from St. Petersburg for a hundred quid."
Before Hilary could stop her, she had started firing. In a matter of seconds there was nothing worthy of note in the pile of ash where the copse was.
"Greenpeace won't be too pleased with that!"
"Talk to the flamethrower."
Just as Lara considered what her next sentence would be, she saw the tall blonde man escaping over the walls.
Next morning, Lara had followed the tracks made by the man to an apartment building in the town. She noted the names next to the doorbell buttons. Von Croy, Larson, Pimms and Clinton.
She was tempted to take out Clinton's apartment, but then realized that the president one didn't live here. She decided to start with Von Croy. She entered the building, up one flight of stairs and opened his door.
Inside, she found him french-kissing Pimms. Revolted, she shuddered.
"Von Croy!"
"mmm. mwahmwahmwah. what?"
"Why are you kissing Pimms? And, more importantly, why are you both wearing milkmaid's outfits?"
Slightly embarrassed, Pimms ran off.
"If the music of Gilbert and Sullivan has taught me nothing else." Began Von Croy ".And it hasn't, it's that the milkmaid always gets the man she wants."
"Von Croy, leave Gilbert and Sullivan out of this." Lara went over to the record player and threw his copy of 'Patience' out of the window, lethally wounding a cat. She began searching his apartment. "Anyway, you'll catch your death of cold in that outfit." Von Croy missed the irony of that sentence.
"What are you doing?" He exclaimed, as she rifled through his bureau.
"Aha!" Lara said. "You're the judge for the annual flower show today!"
"What has that got to do with anything?"
"You." Started Lara, but then she noticed that Von Croy was skinnier, less blonde and slower than the man who had destroyed her flowers. She kicked over a vase and went to Pimm's apartment. He was in the kitchen, drinking alcoholic drinks with his own name on it. He was too drunk to speak, so Lara searched his apartment, but found nothing incriminating.
Next, Larson's apartment.
End of Chapter One. lemme know what you think, plesae.