Tomb Raider: Forgotten Savior
By: The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie
Disclaimer: Tomb Raider, Lara Croft, Kurtis Trent and a few others used in this story belong to EIDOS. The original story belongs to me as well as a few characters that are made by me, such as Ahmed Istathir and Arba.
A/N: If you've never read this story before, that's good, you aren't missing anything. If you've read this story before, it's been tweaked a bit from its original formula. The chapters up until 3 are the same with a few grammatical errors fixed (or perhaps made worse?) and a sentence or two added here and there for clarification. It's been 2 years, going on 3 since I've done anything with it, and I forgot what was going on. The entire storyline is different (I think) from what was originally planned. (I can't decipher my notes… lol)
Flashbacks are in ITALICS, little dashes delineate change of scene. . .
Chapter Three: She's a Man Eater…
Last time: Masked members of the Cabal ambush Kurtis Trent and Lara Croft in Cappadocia. Kurtis suspects that Lara has not been completely truthful with him. They find the artifact they were looking for: the Head of Manticore with the backing like that of a key. The man who had it is dead, shot to death by unknown assailants, his vehicle stripped of parts. It's been three days since Kurtis delivered the artifact to Gunderson.
Gunderson watched with placid gray eyes as he handed over the piece wondering what the man standing in front of him intended to do with it. Not that it really mattered. Another of his agents would be stealing it within two weeks anyway. The Master had been very specific, and the pay was much better than this idiot.
"Finally," the man said. "Martichoras. The Man-Eater." His voice grated on Gunderson's last nerve. However, Gunderson was never one to upset a paying client and said nothing, only observed.
The man handled the object with much more care than it had seen in the last few days, his withered hands almost caressing it. His wizened features contorted into a makeshift smile, his teeth rotten, some missing, all misshapen. One eye was brown, moist with life; the other was a pale blue, glazed over without life, a glass eye. A jagged scar ran from his eyelid of the lifeless eye to his jaw. His eyebrows were like bushy white caterpillars crawling over his odd eyes. His salt and pepper hair was thin and slicked back with either too much hair gel or too much sweat. Gunderson couldn't tell which. The man's bony body was hunched over as if carrying a great burden on his ancient shoulders.
Gunderson waited patiently for his client to finish inspecting the object. Like everything he did, there was no point in rushing. Careful, controlled, patient. There would be time for action later. His hulking frame was cramped by the tightness of the space of the man's office. Gunderson put a finger in his collar and pulled back the itchy black turtleneck to alleviate some of the tightness.
While he waited, he studied the room in which they were. What he assumed to be antiques and possibly artifacts littered the small space. Cisterns and vases hung from the ceiling, many depicting Grecian scenes, others Chinese scenes, and yet others depicting Hindu scenes. Crates of various sizes were stacked on each other, some opened revealing the packaging, others just lying there. Most of the labels were Czech and Polish, but there were some in Chinese, Latin, Sudanese and Turkish. The Turkish containers caught his attention, and he stepped closer to look into one of the closer crates. The top of a cistern looked back placidly. Not knowing much about ancient times and the like, he merely marveled at the intricate carving about the parameter of the portion he could see. He looked back at the wizened client still gaping at the Head of the Manticore or whatever it was called. He stood stoically looking ahead, his large hands clasped behind his back and waited again.
"Payment, Herr Arba?" he asked after a while. Arba regarded him carefully, his eyes squinting as if he'd only just realized that Gunderson was standing there. Gunderson only gazed straight ahead as if he weren't offended. It was not his place to be offended, only to get what he came for: payment for the job. Getting Trent to even work for him was like pulling the teeth of a tyrannosaurus rex. Absently he patted the pocket of his trench coat that held Lara Croft's book, A Tyrannosaur Is Jawing at My Head.
"Yes, of course, Mr. Gunderson." He clutched the artifact to his chest as he rounded the desk and opened the drawer. Gunderson's hand went to the hilt of his gun at his waist as a matter of precaution. Arba withdrew a thick, non-descript envelope and handed it over to him.
Not trusting him in the least, Gunderson answered in staid calmness, yet his tone brooked no argument. "I will count it here."
Arba regarded him silently a moment before nodding his pointed head and blinking several times. "Yes, of course."
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It would be whole once more. The Martichoras.Only two more to retrieve.The Body.The Tail. Then…then!
The Legendary was in his hands. His! It was his. For the Covenant.For the future.
The Agency had sent the best, the male named Trent. Though Trent had that nasty habit of talking to himself, he had proven to the Covenant that he was truly the best. It had taken only a week to retrieve the artifact from Istathir. And now it would only be a bit longer before the other two pieces were recovered. The Martichoras was an integral part of the Ritual. It needed to be whole. It needed him to find the rest. It mattered little that Istathir was the head archeologist of the dig site near the ruins of the Temple of Horus. It only mattered that the artifact, the Martichoras was now back with the Covenant.
The artifact was tinted green as age had oxidized the copper. The sapphires were missing from the eyes, but they were easily replaced. He turned over the object and gazed expectantly at the map on the back. Unfortunately, it was too cryptic for him to decipher without Istathir's notebook. Trent had said that the Tomb Raider had it. Arba wondered a moment how she had gotten it, and why she would want the notebook without the puzzle pieces. He shrugged it off indifferently. He would get the notebook from Lara Croft and find the rest of the pieces. Martichoras would live again.
He resisted the urge to laugh with glee as Marten Gunderson, head of the Agency counted the money in the package. The large bald man nodded after counting and took his leave.
Arba turned the object over again to gaze at the face of the Man-Eater, and this time did not suppress his smile of glee. He held in his hands an object used by the First Ones; those who were Ageless; those who gave Purpose; those who would bring back Hell on Earth.
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Gunderson slipped the envelope in his coat pocket as he left Arba's offices. The Master would be giving him new orders soon. He had just enough time to get something to eat before meeting with the Master.
He found himself wondering where Trent had slipped off. The American seemed to bring trouble with him wherever he went. Even before Gunderson had established the Agency, and he and Trent had served in the Foreign Legion together, Trent had a bad habit of digging up trouble. He thought of Japan when—
A sudden pain shot through his skull, and he put a big palm to his forehead, not surprised to find moisture there. His memories of the Foreign Legion were all but lost due to the frequent headaches. He thought perhaps it was Eckhardt's glove, the one he used to control many of his minions, which had done the damage. Gunderson didn't think he would ever know. It was out of his hands. He gave a huff and started for the stairs. The car would be waiting. Trent would contact him in a few days for his next mission. However the way Trent had been carrying on about the Tomb Raider, Gunderson thought perhaps the American needed some time off. The loss of his father and the nearly three years of going through hell were getting to him.
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Lara Croft had disappeared.
After three days of looking for her, Kurtis gave up. She'd probably gone back to England or went on another tomb raiding adventure. Just like she'd left him alone at the Strahov, she'd left him alone in Turkey. But why didn't she say anything? He thought she would at least have the common courtesy of telling him good-bye.
No "bye", "kiss my ass", nothing. And she still has my Chirugai!
Determined to get back his weapon, he phoned Croft Foundation. He didn't care what the time difference was. He was surprised when the secretary picked up on the first ring. He thought her name was Gwenn or Gretchen or something, but couldn't remember.
When he asked to speak with Lara, he wasn't surprised with her answer as to her whereabouts.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Trent," the secretary told him, "She isn't in. She's on an expedition. However, I was told if you were ever to call to give you a message."
Kurtis blinked. Well, this is new. "And that is?"
"Your weapon is waiting for you at Croft Manor," the secretary told him. "Winston will give it to you if you decide to come pick it up. Let me give you the number to ring Winston."
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Reviewsalways welcome. I love constructive criticism. I want your honest opinion and if I've made any spelling or grammatical errors (so embarrassing!). If it completely tanks, give me your opinion on what should be done to fix it. (Not a guarantee it will/can be fixed.)
Up next?Chapter 4, of course. You didn't think I'd reveal anything did you?
