Chapter 3.
The morning came too soon.
Sara lifted up her eyelids just a little bit, the light of the sun was really hurting her eyes. And Croft's
singing in the kitchen was hurting her ears.
She did not know this song, but she was quite aback with the pop-culture. She turned in her bed,
trying to cover the head with the blankets, but did not succeed. She sat straight and faced cheerful
Lara that has just appeared in the bedroom doors, a mug of coffee in one hand.
'Rise and shine!' the aristocrat exclaimed, handing the coffee to Sara.
'Shine yourself.' Sara groaned. 'It's Sunday for Pete's sake! You don't have to wake me up at…' she
saw the clock at her bedside and hesitated for a moment, than continued '…at 11:23.'
'Sorry.' Lara giggled. It was scary to say the least.
'And why the hell did you left without telling me a single word? Huh? Do you think it's nice to find
yourself in the middle of a nightclub totally alone?' Sara took the coffee, but was not in the mood to
treat it as a bribe and just leave out the subject of the past night.
'Oh that?' Lara giggled once more. 'Ian got to know that it was my first recreational visit to the city, so
he offered himself…'
'Oh he did?'
'…As a guide. Truly marvelous. I sight toured the "Dark Realm of the City". Quite exciting, not in
comparison to tombs and lost temples, but still.'
'And did… Ian… Kill anyone, perchance?' Sara smirked, taking a sip of coffee.
'No. Why do you ask?' Lara looked really shocked. 'Frankly speaking, there were no people… Apart
from a group of youngsters, but they dashed off as soon as they saw…'
'I can imagine that.' Sara smiled to herself. Ian Nottingham, the Guide to the Dark Realm of the City.
Great. World has gone astray. 'You had fun, generally speaking?'
'Actually, yes. I'm planning to repeat it this evening.'
Sara swallowed too large sip of hot coffee and was now chocking immensely. She calmed herself after
about fifteen seconds. She looked straight at Lara.
'With Nottingham?' Just a rhetorical question it was. Sara already knew the answer, but had to hear it
straight from the Croft's mouth, so to say.
'Naturally. You fancy to come?'
Sara's very first reaction was to shake her head frantically, agree, agree, agree! Than came the bucket
of ice-cold water and she calmed herself. The Witchblade on her wrist was surprisingly tranquil,
concerning everything that was happening around.
'No, thanks. I'll do some paperwork. Or maybe I'll prowl the dark streets on my own. Who knows,
maybe Witchblade is going to be needed? You never know.' She sighted, proud of herself and the way
she has held to her sanity. 'Now will you excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom…'
After a week Sara had to admit that she started to feel a little bit stupid. Lara was obviously having the
time of her life with Nottingham and it seemed like the omniscient Irons had nothing against it. He did
not interfere.
A part of Sara hoped he would. She could envisage Irons shouting at Nottingham for his
incompetence, ordering him to stop getting involved with an English aristocratic tomb robber and get
back to his official stalking of the wielder – but no. Nothing of that kind. Irons must have been either
enjoying himself on the behalf of the existing situation, or had something at the back of his filthy little
mind, some plan in store, just about to jump out and destroy Sara's not so perfect life.
She waited in anticipation.
And waited.
And waited.
Meanwhile Lara made Ian show her every interesting spot in the Big Apple, including the sewers
('Really reminded me of the tomb of Sethi VII, so dark and full of rats!'). He took her to a restaurant.
She took him to the cinema. They both took each other to long walks in the park. Sara just happened
to be near every time they went out. How strange coincidences may be!
And than, exactly one week after Lara first met Nottingham, Sara jumped out of a frying pan into the
fire. Out of her own, free will. It all began when Lara said:
'I finally got to know his boss, the charming Mr. Irons.'
Sara felt as if someone has just hit her in the head with a hammer the size of Manhattan. Quite
unwillingly, the Witchblade morphed into a simple gauntlet on her forearm, but she was wearing a
sweater that day and Lara did not notice.
'You've met Irons…?'
'Nice gentleman. He invited me to a dinner tonight. Actually, he invited us both.'
The hammer was not the size of Manhattan, but the whole New York and its closest suburbs.
'You've accepted the invitation?'
Lara seemed surprised. 'Why should I turn it down? He's such a polite man. He's Ian's boss…'
'Maybe that's his problem?…' Sara sighted. What else about this man? Should I tell you that he's a
power-mad guy and my favorite arch-nemesis? Nah, I'll keep it to myself for the time being.
'What do you mean?' Lara asked frowning. Really, she could have been the best tomb raider on the
planet, she could have a mind to solve ancient puzzles and long lost mysteries, but as far as the REAL
life was concerned… No. Lara Croft was hopeless. Does she never read papers? Never mind now.
The truth was, that if Irons got interested in Lara, he must have wanted something from her. The
cause and effect, nothing happens without a purpose. Irons lured by the sheer attractiveness of Ms.
Croft? Fat chance. The scum had something in mind and Sara had the perfect opportunity to find out
what it was.
And maybe walk right into his trap.
Life's a risk, isn't it?
'All right, Croft.' Sara threw the strands of her hair from her eyes with a graceful move of the head.
'Let's do some shopping. We're not going to pay a visit to my old pall Irons in some old piece of rag!…'
End of chapter 3
Hey, if anyone likes it, please tell me? I'm going to continue anyway, so beware…
The morning came too soon.
Sara lifted up her eyelids just a little bit, the light of the sun was really hurting her eyes. And Croft's
singing in the kitchen was hurting her ears.
She did not know this song, but she was quite aback with the pop-culture. She turned in her bed,
trying to cover the head with the blankets, but did not succeed. She sat straight and faced cheerful
Lara that has just appeared in the bedroom doors, a mug of coffee in one hand.
'Rise and shine!' the aristocrat exclaimed, handing the coffee to Sara.
'Shine yourself.' Sara groaned. 'It's Sunday for Pete's sake! You don't have to wake me up at…' she
saw the clock at her bedside and hesitated for a moment, than continued '…at 11:23.'
'Sorry.' Lara giggled. It was scary to say the least.
'And why the hell did you left without telling me a single word? Huh? Do you think it's nice to find
yourself in the middle of a nightclub totally alone?' Sara took the coffee, but was not in the mood to
treat it as a bribe and just leave out the subject of the past night.
'Oh that?' Lara giggled once more. 'Ian got to know that it was my first recreational visit to the city, so
he offered himself…'
'Oh he did?'
'…As a guide. Truly marvelous. I sight toured the "Dark Realm of the City". Quite exciting, not in
comparison to tombs and lost temples, but still.'
'And did… Ian… Kill anyone, perchance?' Sara smirked, taking a sip of coffee.
'No. Why do you ask?' Lara looked really shocked. 'Frankly speaking, there were no people… Apart
from a group of youngsters, but they dashed off as soon as they saw…'
'I can imagine that.' Sara smiled to herself. Ian Nottingham, the Guide to the Dark Realm of the City.
Great. World has gone astray. 'You had fun, generally speaking?'
'Actually, yes. I'm planning to repeat it this evening.'
Sara swallowed too large sip of hot coffee and was now chocking immensely. She calmed herself after
about fifteen seconds. She looked straight at Lara.
'With Nottingham?' Just a rhetorical question it was. Sara already knew the answer, but had to hear it
straight from the Croft's mouth, so to say.
'Naturally. You fancy to come?'
Sara's very first reaction was to shake her head frantically, agree, agree, agree! Than came the bucket
of ice-cold water and she calmed herself. The Witchblade on her wrist was surprisingly tranquil,
concerning everything that was happening around.
'No, thanks. I'll do some paperwork. Or maybe I'll prowl the dark streets on my own. Who knows,
maybe Witchblade is going to be needed? You never know.' She sighted, proud of herself and the way
she has held to her sanity. 'Now will you excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom…'
After a week Sara had to admit that she started to feel a little bit stupid. Lara was obviously having the
time of her life with Nottingham and it seemed like the omniscient Irons had nothing against it. He did
not interfere.
A part of Sara hoped he would. She could envisage Irons shouting at Nottingham for his
incompetence, ordering him to stop getting involved with an English aristocratic tomb robber and get
back to his official stalking of the wielder – but no. Nothing of that kind. Irons must have been either
enjoying himself on the behalf of the existing situation, or had something at the back of his filthy little
mind, some plan in store, just about to jump out and destroy Sara's not so perfect life.
She waited in anticipation.
And waited.
And waited.
Meanwhile Lara made Ian show her every interesting spot in the Big Apple, including the sewers
('Really reminded me of the tomb of Sethi VII, so dark and full of rats!'). He took her to a restaurant.
She took him to the cinema. They both took each other to long walks in the park. Sara just happened
to be near every time they went out. How strange coincidences may be!
And than, exactly one week after Lara first met Nottingham, Sara jumped out of a frying pan into the
fire. Out of her own, free will. It all began when Lara said:
'I finally got to know his boss, the charming Mr. Irons.'
Sara felt as if someone has just hit her in the head with a hammer the size of Manhattan. Quite
unwillingly, the Witchblade morphed into a simple gauntlet on her forearm, but she was wearing a
sweater that day and Lara did not notice.
'You've met Irons…?'
'Nice gentleman. He invited me to a dinner tonight. Actually, he invited us both.'
The hammer was not the size of Manhattan, but the whole New York and its closest suburbs.
'You've accepted the invitation?'
Lara seemed surprised. 'Why should I turn it down? He's such a polite man. He's Ian's boss…'
'Maybe that's his problem?…' Sara sighted. What else about this man? Should I tell you that he's a
power-mad guy and my favorite arch-nemesis? Nah, I'll keep it to myself for the time being.
'What do you mean?' Lara asked frowning. Really, she could have been the best tomb raider on the
planet, she could have a mind to solve ancient puzzles and long lost mysteries, but as far as the REAL
life was concerned… No. Lara Croft was hopeless. Does she never read papers? Never mind now.
The truth was, that if Irons got interested in Lara, he must have wanted something from her. The
cause and effect, nothing happens without a purpose. Irons lured by the sheer attractiveness of Ms.
Croft? Fat chance. The scum had something in mind and Sara had the perfect opportunity to find out
what it was.
And maybe walk right into his trap.
Life's a risk, isn't it?
'All right, Croft.' Sara threw the strands of her hair from her eyes with a graceful move of the head.
'Let's do some shopping. We're not going to pay a visit to my old pall Irons in some old piece of rag!…'
End of chapter 3
Hey, if anyone likes it, please tell me? I'm going to continue anyway, so beware…