A.N. Soo... Some of the old stuff I published needed cleaning up and I figured I should divide them to chapters for easier reading. Comments&feedback are welcome, as always. :)

And a belated thank you to the people who favorited and gave feedback before the muchly needed spring cleaning. :D

05.14.2004

CIA HQ Langley, VA

1:50 am

"You're late, Trent," Aaron 'Nox' McCoy grumbled.

"Sorry, Nox. Got here as fast as I could. What's up?" Kurtis lit his cigarette and took a puff.

Aaron frowned. "I don't want you smoking near me. You can fill your lungs with tar as much as you like, but do it away from me." He gave Kurtis a dirty look.

"Lemme finish this one. So, what's the matter?"

"Mid-East is brewing again."

Kurtis smiled sarcastically. "What else is new?"

"This time it's a bit different. You know smallpox?"

"Yeah, so? Wasn't it wiped off?"

"Not totally. Some terrorists bought a few test tubes full of these viruses. The container that was carrying it was involved in an accident, near the Turkish-Syrian border. Fortunately, the tubes weren't damaged. We suspect that this certain person wanted to attack hostile neighbors."

"I have a feeling you guys found out who's behind this." Kurtis put his finished cigarette in the ashtray, which was on a coffee table.

"It's our best friend, Ahmed El-Tabibi and his orchestra."

Kurtis grinned crookedly. "Is he still hooked on Turkey and Israel?"

"Yep. His obsession to eradicate Turks and Israelis grew more than ever, especially since Turkey became a candidate to join the European Union. He thinks Turks are American Muslims, that they should be banished off the Middle East. As for Jews, well, our pal Ahmed thinks that this American-built government's people should go back to where they belong."

"Which is…?"

"Hitler's concentration camps," Nox replied.

Kurtis was getting impatient. "So, what is my mission?"

"You will go to Damascus and kill Ahmed, before he kills our allies. While you're at it, retrieve documents about that shipment. We need to find out everything we can about the company that produced it, where it's located, who owns it, you get the idea."

"Sure, no problem," Kurtis replied and yawned.

Aaron spoke up again. "One other thing, you'll find this very amusing. The Syrian government also notified MI6; guess who's assigned?"

"Don't tell me it's James Bond!" Kurtis joked.

"Even more outrageous. They assigned Lara Croft, that famous archeologist."

Kurtis's eyes widened with surprise. "They assigned Lara?"

Nox grinned. "Have you two met?"

Kurtis lit another cigarette, ignoring Aaron's killer look. "Before I joined CIA, I was searching for the person that killed my father, remember?"

Nox nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Well, it turned out Lara was after the same person. We helped each other on finding Eckhart, the guy who did this to us. We were just partners."

A meaningful smile formed on Nox's lips. "It seems to me, she was a little more than a partner, am I right?"

Kurtis frowned and took a puff from his cigarette. He watched the smoke go up to the ceiling. "I don't need to hide that I found her attractive. I think she found me attractive too, but before we could talk about it, she left Prague and returned to England. Needless to say, we lost touch."

Aaron stared at him thoughtfully. "I could assign another person if you're going to be uncomfortable." His expression was serious. "But you know, you're the best one in our hands."

"Nah, I can handle it. Besides, I'll be done before she arrives. Speaking of, when will I leave?"

Aaron studied Kurtis's chestnut hair and blue eyes. "First, go dye your hair black and put on dark-brown contact lenses. You don't want to look like a tourist and attract attention, do you?"

"Of course not. I should get going," Kurtis said in an aloof manner.

"Just be back at 6 am."

"No problem. Later, Nox!" Kurtis walked out of Aaron's office.

Kurtis got out the shower and looked in the mirror to check out his new hair color. "Hmm, not bad," he said to himself. He got out the bathroom, and plopped himself on his bed. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he thought about Lara. Of all these people, why Lara? He thought. Anyway, I'll probably finish before she even arrives. So I don't even have to worry. Soon he was asleep.

Lara's Home-Wimbledon, Surrey

9:00 am

Lara stepped down the black Rolls Royce that had picked her up earlier. She went up to her room and started packing. She put her cat suit, a black caftan, a long black kerchief to cover her head (In Syria, it was a rule), combat boots, a bungee cord, her holsters, the K2 Impactor, a pair of Uzis, stealth darts and gun, and her trusty companions, a pair of 9 mm Glock pistols with silencers. She didn't worry about food, as she could buy from Damascus. But she put a box of Cadbury's Milk Tray-that was her favorite thing in the world. I'm all set, she thought. She lay on her bed to get some sleep, but couldn't bat an eye. She sighed and went down to the assault course to practice.

It was noon when Lara took a break. She brought her suitcase downstairs, had some lunch and went back to her assault course. She had just dived in the pool when Winston came.

"My Lady, a gentleman has come to pick you up," Winston called out to her. So Lara hoisted herself out of the pool and dried up; she was ready to leave. Instead of the Rolls that had picked her up before, a sky-blue Mini Cooper was waiting outside.

"My, MI6 certainly has a taste for cars!" Lara remarked. The driver smiled faintly. "Miss Croft, we may leave when you're ready. I put your suitcase in the boot," he said.

"Let's go." Lara got in the car and waved goodbye to Winston as the car started. Soon they were out on the highway. Lara started to read the bio, which Agent Johnston had given her.

"Fatima Ramani. Date of birth, 04/14/1969. Place of birth, Damascus, Syria. Was married to Riza Ramani, a heart surgeon. Riza died in a traffic accident. Fatima's a graduate from University of Ankara, Turkey. Has major degree on archeology. Has doctoral degree on Mesopotamian cultures. Last place she worked, Al Hadr, Iraq. Searched for Babylonian artifacts."

Lara stopped reading and looked out the window. Fatima Ramani, we have quite a bit in common, she thought. She watched the changing landscape during the rest of the trip.

It was 2:30 pm when they reached the Royal Air Force Base. A helicopter was waiting for them. Lara got out of the car and stepped in the helicopter; the driver handed her the suitcase. The chopper took off immediately. Not a word was said-no one could hear each other anyway.