Tomb Raider/Gen13: Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend
A crossover fanfic by Sarah Crisman
Scrisman@juno.com
Welcome back to story-land, my friend. One more time, just hold my hand, and I'll do my best to guide you through another world or two. I know it can be hard to relinquish control, but I promise to bring you back in one piece. So…you'll just have to trust me.
What's this story about? Well, there's an easy answer, and a complex answer. The easy answer, naturally, is "Tomb Raider and Gen13." For those of you familiar with both universes, this should be all the information you need.
Now, for those of you who may not know about one or the other, I'll make it short. Gen13 is a group of teenagers along with their mentor who broke away from a government project that gave them super powers, and are now on the run. Their names and identities will be given in the text, and I am trying to write this story so that even if you've never looked at a Gen13 comic book, you'll be able to follow who each person is. Gen13 is also © Image Comics/Wildstorm Entertainment. In relation to the stories of the comic books, I have to say that what goes on here has absolutely no bearing on any of the official works (consider this one of the stories in the short-lived 'Gen13: Bootleg' series). Also, my Gen13 collection is not 100% complete. Something I write here may conflict with something written in one of the books that I don't have. Please bear with me on this. And if something here conflicts really badly with the official stuff, then just treat this story as a "What if…?" type of tale. I'm not attempting to make this story a perfect fit into either universe, hence the crossover… J
Tomb Raider is a game starring a woman by the name of Lara Croft. She is an archaeologist with many famous and not-so-famous artifact discoveries under her belt, including the Ark of the Covenant, Bigfoot, the Atlantean Scion, a stuffed T-Rex head, and the Dagger of Xi'an. Tomb Raider is © Core Design, but this story is completely unofficial and not sanctioned by them in any way.
This story contains some strong language, violence, and probably a few more things that could offend some readers (but no sex, so if you are curious, then do not worry; it's not there). If you are put off by such things, now would certainly be the best time to stop reading.
All my love,
Sarah C.
* * * * *
"When I was young, I knew everything And she, a punk who rarely ever took advice Now I'm guilt-stricken, sobbing with my head on the floor…"-"The Freshmen", The Verve Pipe
* * * * *
The English language, the girl reflected, is lacking in several major departments. 'Sad' just covers practically everything that upsets you. If I flunk a test, I'm 'sad'. If I miss the bus one day, I'm 'sad'. If someone insults me, I'm 'sad'. There isn't any other word.
Oh, sure, I could be 'pissed off' or 'upset'. But those words are still too weak. It's just sissy word grouping of a lazy language.
She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket and slapped it against her palm to release one from the inside. The last one slid into her hand, and she crumpled the spent case into a small wad of cardboard and plastic, then tossed it into the near-by trash can. Based entirely on memories of having done it hundreds of times before, the girl flicked her cigarette lighter, caught the tip of the tightly rolled wad of tobacco and paper on fire, then extinguished the flame and stuck the lighter into her pocket.
It was strange…the smoke usually calmed her nerves. Made her feel better somehow…more complete. Not this time. This time, it seemed only to make her more and more irritated, irrational, and (her mind grappled with the word), sad.
If you ignored the paper stick dangling from between her lips, the girl was very beautiful. Her naturally short black hair was dyed a hot pink in the front bangs. A pair of large gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears. The dark leather jacket she was wearing camouflaged her, helped her blend into the darkness of the night that had rolled in around her several hours ago without her permission. Her jeans were recently purchased, but already had the requisite holes in both the knees and several other miscellaneous rips and tears in the legs.
Alright, whoever you are out there listening to my thoughts…I'm sad. But that's only because there's no single word in the English language that is capable of expressing 'So mind-bogglingly fricking angry, upset, pathetically introverted, and scared' in a suitably condensable manner.
Another drag on the cigarette. Just like she had done dozens of times before, as witnessed by the twenty or so cigarette butts that she had crushed beneath the toe of her shoe earlier, some of them while it was still light out. She looked at the stone that she stood in front of now. It was a flat one, totally devoid of markings. No way of drawing any attention from someone unless they were really into looking at dumb, flat grey stones that sat on the ground.
"Damn it, you were so stupid," she said softly, kicking the small stone. "I should have done something…" The scene played itself out in her mind once again. The five of them were all in the middle of the dark city, fighting a ridiculous battle against some mutated creation from I.O. labs, and managing to both win and lose in the process. Grunge got a real determined look on his face, grappled his way towards the mutated horror, and grabbed it with both his hands. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he had used his ability to merge with objects to become one with the large pile of slime, and force it to kill itself. Right as she screamed his name…right as she stood there, frozen in panic like a deer in front of a car's headlights…right as she shielded her eyes from the enormous burst of light and energy that happened when Grunge connected with the thing…right as she ran towards him, already starting to lose her grip on reality…that was when the whole thing hit her.
I can manipulate gravity itself, she thought. I can make myself or virtually anything else fly into the air, or sink to the ground. And it would have taken only a single thought to move him away from it. And I couldn't think it in time. Guess the name 'Freefall' really fits me now. I certainly didn't help anybody fly that night. Falling seems to be all I'm good at lately.
She threw the single tear she had shed at the rock, and watched it splat into hundreds of microscopic droplets on the cold, unforgiving surface. She was actually surprised that this one had shown up…she would have bet she was fresh out of teardrops after the last several nights.
And damn Mr. Lynch and Fairchild anyway, she sniffed softly. A member of our team gets killed, sacrifices himself in the line of duty, saving an entire fricking city for God's sake, and what does he get? A load of bullshit. Fairchild and Lynch take him out of the damn state someplace, stuff him in some hole in the ground when nobody's really paying any attention, and then come back and tell us later what they did, but not where they did it.
Jesus H. Christ, when Superman bought the big one, the entire fricking city of Metropolis shut down. People showed up from all over the world to pay their respects. Even the criminals took the day off after the big red and blue guy got wasted. He got visits from Batman, Wonder Woman, and everyone else. 'Course that was just some dumb comic book. Same thing happens here in real life, and nothing changes for anybody but the ones who knew him. No elegant sermons at a grave with thousands of mourners turning out to pay respects to the one guy who saved their damn lives, no funeral, no grave marker, nobody sending little tacky cards with flowers that die in a week just like the person in the coffin…just a bunch of 'top secret' mumbo jumbo from the 'leaders' of our team that isn't a team anymore. And instead of taking me to where they put him, they just threw this stone out back and told me they buried him out here…lied to me. "Can't have people knowing where he's resting," Lynch said. Not even his own girlfriend.
Who am I kidding? I know he's not out here.
"Roxy?"
The voice behind her caused her to whirl around in surprise. It was the person she wanted to see the absolute least right now. "Go away, Caitlin. I don't need your pathetic excuse for sympathy, and Grunge doesn't need it either."
Caitlin Fairchild, known to rest of the team as just 'Fairchild' when she was in uniform, didn't heed the order. The wind tossed her orange, shoulder-length hair across her eyes, and she brushed it out of the way. Standing just over 6'4", she easily had several inches of height over Roxy. "We were getting worried. It's getting late, you missed dinner, and they wanted me to check on you."
"I'm fine, okay? So you can dispense with the 'concerned friend' bit and make your report. That's what you're best at, right? Making reports to Lynch? Making sure we all keep ourselves in line? It's supposed to keep what happened to Grunge from happening, but guess what, Caitlin, it didn't work."
"Roxy, please don't-"
"No, you 'please don't'," Roxy interrupted. "Please don't try and feed me any more lines. Please don't keep harassing me, or expecting me to act like nothing happened, like he really isn't gone like the rest of you do. Please don't ever consider me any kind of friend, OK? In fact, why don't you do yourself a favor and please don't ever come here again. I don't think Grunge approves of you being here."
The verbal tirade didn't outwardly cause Caitlin to so much as blink. She had heard it all before, the past few nights. She had gotten used to it. Sort of. Outside, Caitlin Fairchild's body was composed of extremely dense molecules. She was impervious to practically all forms of ballistic penetration, and her strength exceeded that of three Olympic weight lifters combined. Knives, needles, blades, and bullets all bounced off her skin harmlessly. She had been known to hurl express train engines, nearby cars, heavy construction equipment and 18-wheeler trucks when the going got rough. But physical protection was limited only to physical attacks, and this time, no armor in the world could help her. Inside, her heart ached for Roxy. There were times when she just wanted to take the girl into the van, drive her out of the state to the grave, and let her be there as long as she wanted. But Lynch had given the strictest of orders that nobody (emphasis his) else be told of the gravesite's location.
"I'll tell them you'll be home whenever you decide to come," Caitlin finally said.
Roxy only scowled in response.
"Good night." Caitlin turned and headed across the lawn towards the house.
Bobby Lane, the son of Mr. Lynch, and known as 'Burnout' to the team for his ability to ignite his body into flames and hurl chunks of superheated plasma much like major league pitchers throw baseballs, looked up from the book he was reading as he lounged on the couch when Caitlin opened the door. His beard, normally shaved save for one small patch on his chin, hadn't seen the kiss of a razor blade for several days now, and it leant him a more disheveled appearance than usual. "She doing OK?"
Caitlin fixed him with a sad look before she started down the hall. "What do you think?"
Bobby focused his eyes on the floor for a bit, and caught sight of Grunge's Playtendo game system that had been shoved under the sofa after their last stint of 'Ultimate Combat 2'. Grunge had taken the title of 'Ninja Master' at that one the last time they had played, Bobby reflected. And Bobby had sworn up and down that next time, he'd take that title away from him. Problem was…now there wasn't gonna be a next time, and that simple dumb fact seemed to strike more of a chord in Bobby than anything else had before. He felt his eyes suddenly start to puff up, and found himself biting on his bottom lip involuntarily. Aw, shit, Roxy…I know how you feel…
The door to Sarah Rainmaker's room was closed, and the light was out. Caitlin could venture a fairly accurate guess that meant Sarah was sound asleep. It was just as well that someone around here was getting some rest, she reflected as she moved past the door. The fact that Sarah could sleep while everyone else seemed to be consumed with insomnia was something that made Caitlin jealous. She attributed it to Sarah's Apache upbringing, but the truth was that nobody (not even Burnout, who thought he knew everything) knew what made Sarah Rainmaker tick. And the girl wasn't about to talk about it anytime soon either.
That left only one other person awake in the house, and Fairchild was determined to speak to him one last time tonight. The door was closed, but she knew he was awake. She didn't bother to knock, but just twisted the knob and opened the door.
John Lynch sat hunched over his computer where he had been for the last few days, leaving only when he had to use the bathroom or eat. Sleep was something he had seemed to be able to just shrug off. Fairchild was touched with a twinge of envy at that. If he wasn't sleeping, then he wasn't dreaming, and if he wasn't dreaming, then he wasn't having nightmares. Lucky son of a bitch.
He hadn't heard her come in, so she coughed slightly. Slowly, his hands lifted themselves off the keyboard and rested on the side of the desk. His chair swiveled, and he turned to face her, both the organic and the cybernetic eye regarding her with an emotion that she couldn't quite read. Caitlin thought it looked as though there were a few more grey hairs on his head than usual. The large, jagged scar on the left side of his face stretched when he spoke. "What are you doing up at this hour?"
"I checked on Roxy," Caitlin said. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she licked her lips unconsciously. "She's still taking it pretty hard." Why can't I bring myself to look him in the face?
"That was to be expected," Lynch said calmly. He turned around and resumed typing on his keyboard, intending his response to be interpreted as a dismissal.
Caitlin refused to take it that way. "For God's sake, Mr. Lynch, why can't we just take her out there?"
Lynch didn't bother to turn around. "I already gave you the answer to that question. Search your memory and find it again."
Anger broke through Caitlin's calm demeanor, and she stomped across the room, picked up Lynch's chair, dumped him onto the floor, then shattered the chair across her knee as an afterthought and flung the pieces into the corner. Lynch's one real eye opened widely and stared at the leg of the chair, imbedded in the wall across the room, while his cybernetic eye watched Fairchild as she went off on her tirade. "Listen, don't dick me around anymore! The rest of the team is falling apart! Roxy is practically gone already, Burnout doesn't do anything but lounge on the sofa eating junk food, Rainmaker does nothing but sleep, and all you care to do is sit up here and screw around on your damn computer. Well, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of giving the same answer over and over again every time someone asks about Grunge. Roxy was his girlfriend, she's a member of this team, or she was the last time I checked, and she is my friend and responsibility as team leader. Now I want you to get straight with me why it would kill anyone to take my own sister out there just once so she could say goodbye for real instead of faking it every single night."
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence as Caitlin stood over Lynch, seething with anger, waiting for some response.
Lynch told her, and Caitlin's jaw dropped.
Several hours later, Roxy floated gently up to her bedroom window, lifted the glass pane with her powers, then slid inside quietly. She retrieved a duffel bag from the top shelf of her closet, packed a couple of her better outfits inside, then sat down at her computer, jacked into the Internet, and pulled up a search engine. She entered the single topic into the box, and watched as hundreds of matches were retrieved. Then, slowly and methodically, Roxy began to hit every link in order, searching for something usable amidst all the hits returned. It took her hours, but finally she found what she was looking for.
* * * * *
To anyone who actually seems to care,
I've decided that since we're not really a team any longer, you don't need me hanging around here just getting in the way. Life's too hard and short for that sort of garbage, so I'm trusting you'll either understand me or not really care one way or another. I'm betting on the latter, since that's how you treated Grunge. Anyway, let's just drop all the charades. You don't care about me, and right now, I can't say I really care about you either. So, since the feeling is mutual, I expect we'll all be seeing a lot less of each other from now on. Since my life has gone into freefall now (hey, what a coincidence…that was my name…), I hope yours follow suit sooner as opposed to later.
RoxyCaitlin looked up from the letter, but couldn't meet anyone's eyes. "I suppose this means she's not coming back." She stared over at Lynch, but he betrayed no emotion, as usual.
"Jesus, we really did it this time," Bobby murmured.
Sarah shook her head slightly; her long black hair, braided tightly, tapping her back. "We should have been more responsive."
"This changes nothing," Lynch said. "Absolutely nothing. In fact, I predicted something like this would happen."
"Changes nothing my ass!" Bobby was getting quite steamed. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? Maybe you haven't been keeping up with current events, but Roxy was a member of our team! We treated her like shit, she turned her back on us, and all because you told us to. Well, I'm sick of this garbage. Roxy wasn't just some nameless bimbo that nobody knew, she was Freefall! But beyond that, she was a human being with feelings and emotions, and you…you just sat there and ignored all that, and tried to make us do it too!"
"Calm down." The order itself was calm as it slid out of Caitlin's mouth. "Calm down, and I'll tell you exactly what's going on."
"Caitlin!" Lynch growled.
"You didn't predict this, did you, Mr. Lynch?" A smile broke on Sarah's face. "Go on, Caitlin. I'm listening."
* * * * *
Roxy touched down on the campus lawn just shortly after seven in the morning, much to the distress of three Freshmen who had managed to get completely drunk the night before, and now assumed that Aliens were landing to get them.
She ignored their babbling, incoherent ravings and pleas for mercy, and instead focused her attention on the auditorium in front of her. Specifically, she stared at the sign in the window that proclaimed the guest speaker of the evening. Finding the date and time satisfactory, Roxy was about to leave when she suddenly realized she didn't have enough money to purchase a seat. Back row was $22 as it was, and the front row, where she really wanted to be, was $37.50. How the hell do they expect me to come up with that kind of cash? Do I look like some sort of automatic teller machine?
The ravings of the three teenagers behind her suddenly gave her an idea. Checking to make certain that no one else besides her three-man audience was around, she walked back over to them, then levitated about a foot in the air. "We have come to see the guest speaker of the evening," Roxy deadpanned, rolling her eyes up into the back of her head for effect. "But we have no currency units with which to pay for our ticket. You will give us currency units in the precise amount of thirty-seven and one half earth dollars so that I can…I mean we can get a front row seat."
Almost as one, three imitation leather wallets were thrown on the sidewalk in front of her, and three pairs of sneakers along with their owners ran off towards the north quad, raving about the impending invasion of pink-haired alien babes.
She almost smiled, but stopped when she remembered why it was she had flown out here. Grunge needed her.
She exhaled slowly and deliberately before bending down to pick up the wallets, then checked their contents casually, as though there was absolutely nothing wrong with a girl who had her bangs died bright pink rifling through three separate billfolds in the middle of the west quad of a university where she wasn't even registered as a student.
Seven credit cards, $114.21, one free movie rental coupon, one social security card, three drivers' licenses, two fake IDs, six 'Burger Lord' gift certificates, three student identification cards, eleven total pictures of former and/or current girlfriends and four condoms later, Roxy was heading out on a search for the closest fast-food joint. She hadn't eaten anything in almost 24 hours, and it was no use trying to help Grunge on an empty stomach. Even Grunge was smart enough to know that… Grunge…Hang on, baby…Roxy's gonna make it all better.
* * * * *
Roxy's jaw popped open when she walked through the steel-grey double doors and entered the auditorium. The seats had been the first things to catch her eye…very comfortable red cushioned movie theatre style seats…hundreds of them. They wound around the front half of the stage in semi-circular rows that extended up the slight incline of the floor. The stage itself seemed to be large enough to hold an entire "Guns 'N Roses" concert and then some. The single podium that stood in the center-forward part of the oval-shaped wooden platform looked very lonely up there.
She looked up above her and saw, much to her surprise, a full set of lighting implements: spotlights, scene lights, mood lights, a TV camera…this place was professional!
"Rockin'…" she murmured slowly. This was her kind of scene.
"Could you hurry it up?" some guy asked from behind. "Some of us don't want to be late for the lecture."
"Hey, I've never been in here before, OK, so just chill out!" Roxy snarled.
Satisfied that her antagonist hadn't decided to press this issue, she glanced at her ticket stub, found her seat, and plopped down into it.
Roxy didn't exactly realize how out of place she appeared until the people on either side of her took their seats and began pulling out writing instruments and notebooks. I knew I forgot something… Thinking quickly, Roxy managed to borrow 2 sheets of paper from the girl on her left, and got a very chewed up pen from the guy on her right, who informed her that she could keep it if she wanted to, since she was "such a cute babe." She filed the information that men were willing to give you things if you were pretty away inside her head for safe keeping in case she ever actually grew up and went to college some day. Being that she was 16, she had a bit of a wait ahead of her, naturally, but Roxy had learned that, occasionally, it did pay to plan ahead in life.
If she hadn't been so intent on watching the students file in and take their seats, Roxy might have noticed a head poke briefly out of the curtains in the wing to observe the goings-on, but as she had her back turned at the time, it escaped her attention.
* * * * *
"I don't think I've seen a more motley group of people anywhere," one of the stagehands murmured to the guest speaker as he passed her in the wings. "Are you certain you want to go out there, Miss Croft?"
Lara Croft, officially acclaimed world-wide for her archaeological exploits (and unofficially famous for her drop-dead gorgeous looks), faced the stagehand with a bemused look, and tilted her head slightly to the left. "If I can give a lecture to the entire history department of Oxford without forgetting my place, I hardly think that a room full of American university students and one Public Access TV camera will pose that much of a problem."
"Break a leg then." The stagehand waddled off, leaving Lara wondering what on Earth he was talking about.
"You're on in five, Miss Croft."
"Miss Croft, let me reapply your lipstick…it seems to have smeared slightly."
"Miss Croft, your ride will be waiting in the rear to take you back to the hotel immediately after the talk."
Lara sighed to herself, but tried to take it all in stride. They were only doing what they had been told, she reminded herself. But she knew that the children out there wouldn't care if some of her hair was misplaced, or if her makeup had washed off slightly, or if her lipstick was smeared in one place. If the university hadn't insisted on her looking 'presentable' (whatever that meant), she would have worn her standard attire of shorts and sleeveless top. It was what she was most comfortable in, after all.
"Miss Croft…it's time."
Lara nodded at the man who had said this, brushed the front of her dress pants off to straighten them, shooed away the pesky make-up girl, and walked towards the stage.
The applause when she walked out was deafening. The acoustics of the auditorium picked up every beat of the clapping hands, and sent it rebounding off the walls back onto itself. Lara smiled a very genuine smile (for it was not quite the way she had expected to be received), and strode over to the podium.
She waited for the noise to die down to an acceptable level before speaking. "Why, thank you. I must say, I certainly never expected that sort of reception… In any case, I have been informed that my clock is already ticking, and since I only have three hours, I feel it would be best to get started right away, and save any questions you might have for the last half hour of the lecture." She grabbed up a small armload of stapled packets of paper, and proceeded down the stairs in front of her. "My assistants will be passing out copies of the presentation materiel at this time, and I would ask that you all take one so you can follow along and make notes if you wish."
For some reason that Roxy attributed to pure coincidence, Lara chose to pass out the packets to the front row herself, and she found a copy of the material pressed into her hand as Lara passed along, smiling and thanking the people who tried their best to compete for her attention.
Roxy noticed one girl further down the row peer at her copy of the discussion handout, suddenly blush, look around as if to make sure no one was watching her, then flip the first page open rapidly to hide the cover. Give me a fricking break, Roxy groaned inwardly. What'd she do, little redhead, write you a love note or something? She rolled her eyes at the hopeless, star-struck fans seated around her, then settled back to hear the lecture.
* * * * *
Roxy opened her eyes. Aw shit…
The auditorium was almost completely empty, save for the cleaning staff that was busy picking up loose food wrappers and empty soda cans.
She hadn't meant to sleep through the presentation…it was just that she hadn't had any rest in over 24 hours, and the seats were so comfortable, and Lara's voice had been so relaxing that…
Enough thinking! Roxy snarled to herself. A glance at her watch told her the lecture had only been over for a couple minutes…that meant that, if she hurried, she could probably catch Lara in the back before she left.
She bolted from her seat, took the stairs up the side of the stage two at a time, and started towards the wings when suddenly two campus security guards seemed to spring up in front of her from out of nowhere.
"Going somewhere, Miss?" the first one asked.
"I need to see Lara Croft," Roxy said. "It's very urgent."
"I'm sure it is," the second guard nodded. "Don't you think so, Brett?"
"Sure do, Parker," the first agreed. He turned and looked back at Roxy. "But unfortunately, Lara didn't say anything about seeing anyone who looked like you after the lecture. So we can't let you pass."
"Listen to me!" Roxy half shouted. "My boyfriend's life depends on my being able to see Lara Croft! Now get out of my way!"
"If your boyfriend's life depends on it, then why isn't he down here himself?" Brett asked.
"Sorry, Miss," Parker said condescendingly. "But I'm afraid that the only way you're gonna get by us is if you suddenly sprout wings and fly."
Roxy shrugged. "OK. If that's the only way…"
The officers both gaped as they watched her feet slowly leave the floor, rise above their heads, walk over them, then softly touch down on the other side. Roxy was down the back stairwell and out the rear doors before either one could react.
"That…that was a trick, right?" Parker finally managed to ask his partner.
"Yeah…had to be. Like, the way they made Peter Pan fly on stage," Brett said.
"Did you see any wires, Brett?"
"Uh…no. Did you?"
"Huh-uh."
"Should we report this?"
"What, you wanna get hauled in on a drug charge again?"
* * * * *
The guard standing with his back to the rear exit of the auditorium had exactly one and two-tenths of a second to study the ground on his way down before he made intimate contact with it courtesy of the door Roxy had flung open behind him.
She hurtled over his fallen body, not even stopping to look down and make sure he was OK before racing towards the large black car that Lara Croft was getting into. "Lara! Lara!" Afraid that she had completely bungled and missed her chance, she felt her eyes begin to mist up.
Lara raised her head and halted in mid-step, one leg inside the car and the other leg outside, and stared at the girl who was rushing at her car, screaming at the top of her lungs. Very odd indeed…
Two more of Lara's security entourage moved to intercept the girl, but Lara stopped them with a wave of her hand. "Hold on a moment."
"Miss Croft, she's not on your visitor list," the first man said.
Lara ignored him. She had no idea why, but the look the girl was giving her seemed to be so utterly…Lara searched her mind for the word she was looking for… Hopeless, desperate, panicked…they all fit. Lara just got the sense that something very bad would happen if she didn't talk to this girl, and she stepped forward.
Roxy wasn't expecting Lara to step up to meet her, and almost crashed into her when she tried to stop running. Fortunately, she was able to slow herself sufficiently enough to only bump heads with Lara figuratively as opposed to literally, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief when the woman bent down to help her to her feet.
"I'm not going to ask how you got past security inside," Lara said, pulling Roxy up with her slim yet powerful arm.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Roxy panted. "But believe me, Miss Croft, I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't important."
"I see," Lara nodded. "I do hope this isn't about something silly such as an autograph…"
Roxy shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that. It has to do with this treasure I was reading about, and my boyfriend, and, well, I really need your help."
Lara studied the girl's face intently, trying to determine whether this was a mere joke, or the serious truth. Something told her it was the latter of the two, and that really worried her for some reason. This girl wasn't old enough to be in college yet, but somehow she had managed to get a ticket for the lecture. It made for a very confusing puzzle that Lara now found herself wanting to sort out. "I believe I had better hear your story," she said slowly. "But I'm afraid it will have to wait until tomorrow. I have some plans that cannot be cancelled tonight."
Roxy looked crestfallen.
"Now, now, put your chin up," Lara half-scolded. "I've agreed to listen to you, but you have to understand that there are some things even I can't get out of doing."
"Well…where can I meet you?"
"Meet me in the lobby of the Ramada Inn at 6 o'clock sharp."
"Six in the a.m.?" Roxy's eyes boggled. "That's only…" She did a quick bit of mental math. "…Eight hours from now!"
"You wanted to talk with me terribly badly," Lara remarked.
"Of course, but…I mean…" Where the hell am I going to sleep tonight?
"It's settled then. Ta." Lara smiled at her, then stepped into the car. The engine growled to life, and it moved down the road, away from Roxy, until it was little more than a speck in the distance.
At first, Roxy was tempted to follow the car and see where it went, but she guessed that Lara might not take too kindly to being tailed by an overzealous 16-year old girl. Instead, she glanced at the building across the walk from the auditorium. Well, I suppose it won't be the first time they've seen someone sleep in their lobby…
* * * * *
Hey there, Freefall…
She opened her eyes. "Huh?"
We're here.
"Where are you?" Roxy looked all around her, but there was only darkness to be seen. "Where am I?"
Calm down, dear. It's only us.
Roxy frowned…that voice was so familiar…
Rainmaker appeared to her left, surrounded by a blue aura. Good morning, Freefall.
Burnout was to her right, the fire surrounding him causing him to glow a cheery orange color. You were gone for a while…we thought we had lost you. Come on back home.
"But…how…?" This wasn't making any sense…
The shadows in front of her played an extremely cruel joke on her senses as she watched them gather, form, and coalesce into the figure of Fairchild, complete in her green spandex uniform. Freefall, thank God…
"Why are you calling me that?" Roxy asked, staring at each one of them in turn. "We're not in combat…you can call me Roxy…"
Yes…you aren't Freefall anymore, are you?
What…? Roxy whirled and looked into the blazing eyes of John Lynch. "What are you talking about?"
You ran out on us, Freefall, Rainmaker said.
Abandoned us, Burnout added.
That makes you a traitor, Fairchild branded her.
Traitors to the group are dealt with harshly, Lynch said.
Why isn't his mouth moving?? Roxy's mind screamed.
You're a traitor, Freefall, Rainmaker deadpanned.
Treason still carries the death penalty in this country, Freefall, Burnout said.
Are you ready to meet Grunge again, Freefall? Fairchild asked.Roxy whirled to face Lynch. "What's going on here? This isn't the team! What have you done to them?"
Are you familiar with Gilbert and Sullivan? Lynch asked her. Of course you aren't. You haven't even finished high school.
But I do know who they are! Roxy tried to protest. No sound came out.
They once wrote a song entitled 'Let The Punishment Fit the Crime.' The crime, in this case, is killing Grunge.
I didn't kill him! Roxy said.
But you didn't save him either, Lynch snarled back. And a sin of omission is a sin nonetheless. Sins are punished…didn't they tell you that when you were in the care of the convent orphanage? But did you listen?
I…I didn't believe any of that bullshit…
And when you sin, when you 'screw up' as you so aptly put it on so many occasions, there is punishment involved.
We're here to punish you, Fairchild smiled. It won't hurt for more than…oh…a few centuries at best.
Caitlin! Bobby! Sarah! Cut it out! Snap out of it!
They can't hear you, Lynch sneered. We've found you now, Freefall. And we'll make you pay for what you did to Grunge.
Did to Grunge
Did to Grunge
Did to Grunge
Did to Grunge…
Roxy woke up feeling more confused, helpless, and terrified than she ever had in her whole life. Sitting up, she put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Andrea, current desk monitor at the hall where Roxy had chosen to crash, was sitting at the check-in desk further down the hall, staring with concern at the girl who was sitting on the sofa. Ordinarily, she would have had her escorted out of the hall, since she clearly was not a resident, but something stopped her…the girl looked so messed up and upset that she figured it best to just leave her alone. She strained to hear what the girl was saying, but all she heard was something that sounded like, "It wasn't my fault," over and over again.
Andrea really hated this place sometimes…
* * * * *
"Another coffee, and give it wings."
The waitress turned around with a huff and headed back to the kitchen.
"Tell me, are you always this grumpy in the morning?" Lara regarded the girl at the opposite side of the table who was working on her third cup of coffee in fifteen minutes. She hadn't changed her clothes since yesterday, and she smelled of leather mixed with sweat.
"I didn't sleep the best last night," Roxy grumbled. "Some Goodwill-donated couch in the lobby of a dorm can't quite compare to my bed at home." She didn't tell Lara about the dream.
The waitress set the new cup of coffee down beside Roxy and walked away before she could be growled at again.
Roxy chugged the last bit of coffee in her old cup, then grabbed the new cup, dumped about half the sugar container and three creamers into it, stirred it with the spoon, then pulled it to her lips and sipped.
"I would tend to agree with you," Lara nodded. "So why are you away from home?"
"I'm not really welcome around there anymore," Roxy said, lowering her head. "I was a part of the team…felt like a family. Then they let my boyfriend get kill-…well, we all sorta screwed that up. But I didn't feel like we were going anywhere anymore, so I quit and left to find you."
"I see," Lara said, taking a sip from her tea. "And you've come quite a way as well, I would venture." This was getting weirder by the minute.
"I crossed a few state lines," Roxy said with a shrug.
"Then I suppose my next question will be why."
"I want to find the Tsunami Diamond.".
Lara didn't say anything for a moment, then she stood up. "I believe I had better be going, Ms. Spaulding."
Roxy grabbed her hand. "Excuse me?"
Lara twisted her hand out of Roxy's grasp. "You heard me. And I believe I've heard enough."
"Now wait a minute," Roxy argued. "I came all this way to find you, and now you're walking away before-"
"I do not have time for this," Lara said in exasperation. "I have three more stops on this lecture tour alone. After that, the Museum wants me in Tunisia for a dig."
"Hey, just what is your major malfunction here?" Roxy demanded.
Lara grimaced at the American expression. "The Tsunami Diamond does not exist. It was a Japanese legend from centuries ago."
"Yeah, well, the Ark of the Covenant was a legend too, only the way I remember from the stupid convent school I went to, the Hebrews were alive back about the time the dinosaurs were stomping around on this planet, and you didn't seem to have any problem accepting that it was real."
"That was different!" Lara fumed, totally losing her cool at the brashness and utter arrogance of this girl. "The Ark is a very valuable ancient relic. The diamond, on the other hand, is merely a large piece of mythological, hardened carbon."
"With the power to bring people back to life," Roxy amended.
Lara opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She blinked at Roxy for a moment.
"Why the hell did you think I'd come looking for you if it wouldn't let me bring Grunge back?" Roxy asked. "Did you think I was just looking for something to hang in my trophy case back home? Did you forget that I don't have a home anymore? I don't even have a trophy case for that matter. Gee, I'm so sorry I'm not the wealthy, upper-crust English society that you were raised in. Just so happens that I got told a bunch of lies all along the way…lies like 'Oh, people care about you, Roxy.' 'You're special, Roxy.' 'You have a wonderful, long life ahead of you, Roxy.' The only person who ever told me the truth was Grunge, when he said, 'I love you, Roxy.' And if you, the fricking best archaeologist in the world, aren't willing to help one girl recover her dreams that got buried under about two billion tons of bullshit, then you can just read about me in the damn newspaper when I dig them out again."
Lara was visibly shaken. What have I been thinking? Have I been doing too much talking and not enough adventuring lately? Please tell me I'm not turning into my father… It suddenly dawned on her that every eye in the café was on them. How many people had heard that discussion? Taking Roxy's arm, she pulled her towards the door. "I think we had best leave."
Roxy tried to shake her arm out of Lara's grip, but the fingers holding her were like steel. "What's this 'we' business?" she demanded.
"I'm coming with you."
"Oh, yeah, right, sure."
"Are you going to walk, or do I need to carry you?"
"I'm walking, I'm walking, sheesh, chill out…Leggo of me! Where are we going, anyway?"
Lara opened the door to her car and ushered Roxy inside. "I'll help you out. But on two conditions."
"Name 'em," Roxy said, sliding into the seat and shutting the door behind her.
"First, you tell me how you found out about the diamond, and what you know. And second, that we take you back to my hotel room and give you a good scrubbing. You are a walking olfactory disaster."
For some reason, that caused Roxy to start giggling.
"What's so funny?" Lara asked.
"Sorry," Roxy said. "It's just that…well…I called Grunge that one time. He took it as a compliment, I think. It's kinda funny to hear my words come out of someone else's mouth, that's all."
For what it was worth, Lara seemed to have restored some sense of optimism in the girl. And that was a start.
* * * * *
With the majority of her body buried under mountains of foamy white bubbles in the bathtub, Roxy looked rather silly. Her pink bangs hung down in front of her eyes, and the black hair behind it was plastered to her scalp courtesy of the water. It felt quite good, and she had to resist the temptation to just shut her eyes and fall asleep.
Lara, figuring that the bath would have that effect, tried to keep Roxy focused. "So, tell me how you found out about the diamond."
"Well, it was a few months ago," Roxy answered. "I eavesdropped on this conversation Mr. Lynch was having with Fairchild about-"
"Just a minute," Lara interrupted. "I'm sorry…who?"
"Oh yeah, my bad," Roxy blushed. She attempted to retain a hold on the soap while she explained. "Mr. Lynch is the guy who got us all out of I.O.'s Project Genesis in the first place. And Fairchild's name is actually Caitlin Fairchild, and she's sorta the leader of the team. Well, she was. I guess."
"Project Genesis? I.O.?" Lara asked. Why isn't any of this making sense to me?
"Oh yeah, that. I.O.: International Operations," Roxy said. "Yeah, I suppose you haven't heard of it. It was this top secret project funded by the government to try and create superhumans by messing with their DNA and stuff. They had some success, lots of failures. We were the thirteenth batch of subjects they tried their stuff on, but Lynch convinced us to abandon the project. Said something about it being run for the military or something like that, I don't remember. Lots of scientific mumbo-jumbo that just went *woosh* over my head at the time.
"Anyway, we all went AWOL one night, and the government's been looking for us ever since: me, Fairchild, Burnout, Rainmaker, and…um…Grunge…"
"Why do they want you?" Lara asked, trying to take Roxy's mind off of her boyfriend.
"From what Lynch said before, most of the first several batches of people who were tested on wound up like Silly Putty, or with useless stuff like the ability to, I don't know, like, use their buttocks like throwing stars or something. But, if they were successful when they fiddled with your genes, they actually gave you some sort of useful power, like throwing fire with Burnout, or controlling weather like Rainmaker. Then, instead of just 'experimental,' you got labeled 'Gen-active.' Something like a promotion in their minds, I s'pose."
"And which are you?" Lara prompted.
Roxy looked down to avoid Lara's gaze. "Gen-active."
"Why were you afraid to tell me?"
"'Cause I thought you might…I dunno, think I was some sort of freak or something."
"Well, you are certainly one of the most complicated persons I've come across over time," Lara said. "What exactly did they give you the power to do?"
Lara was not expecting a huge section of the bubbles in the bathtub to suddenly detach itself from the main group and float over towards her, fake to the left, then sculpt itself into a mockery of a false beard and plaster itself to her face.
Roxy, unable to control herself, burst into a fit of laughter, her feet kicking water up and over the sides of the tub.
Lara grabbed the closest towel and wiped the soap off her face. "That was not amusing. So you have the power to control soap bubbles? I thought you only got the 'Gen-active' label for useful abilities."
That only made Roxy laugh harder. "I'm sorry, Lara… No, it's not just soap bubbles. I can…um…'manipulate the magnetic fields of objects and cause them to advance towards or retract from other objects, thus voiding or enhancing the pull of gravity.' I think that's how they put it to me."
"No wonder you left," Lara scowled. "Listening to rubbish like that day in and day out would drive anyone mad."
"I think that was their way of telling me I could float stuff around," Roxy admitted.
"So how did you get across the country?" Lara asked, certain she already knew the answer.
"Well…I flew."
"I was afraid of that." Lara stood up and walked out of the bathroom.
Roxy grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around her small frame as she stepped out of the bathtub. God, what I wouldn't give for a body like hers…screw that, what Sarah wouldn't give for a body like hers! "Hey Lara…like, why did you cop such an attitude with me before when I mentioned the diamond?"
"I thought you were being less than serious," Lara admitted. "I thought perhaps some of your friends had dared you to play a joke on me, or you had decided to do it yourself. You said it so lightly that I couldn't conceive of any other possibility. And the diamond would be worth a fortune in this day. Greed is a wonderful motivator."
"Sorry about that," Roxy said, wiping off her neck. "I guess I was just figuring that, hell, with your help I could get just about anything I wanted to. No need to be all secret, James-Bond-like."
"How did you learn about the diamond?" Lara asked.
"I was screwing around on the Internet one night, and I plugged in 'resurrection' as a search term. Looked over the links for hours. And I found one with a Japanese mythology page. 'Course, it was all in Chinese or something, but I figured if the search engine reported it, there had to be something. And so I scrolled around, followed links blindly, and saw 'Tsunami Diamond' mentioned several times. I guess I just sort of put two and two together."
"Your resolve is amazing," Lara commented. Your ignorance of other cultures is right on the money, however…
"Yeah, well, when I put my mind to it, I can do just about anything." Except hook this *&^#ing bra… "Anyway, thanks for going back for my bag. I feel really dumb about leaving it in that dorm."
"It wasn't a problem," Lara said. "You're rather fortunate that no one walked off with it, however."
"Given the body shapes of virtually every girl I saw on that campus, none of my clothing would have fit anyway. Way too big. So…what's the real story behind this diamond?"
"It's quite a tale."
"I'm not going anywhere." Roxy appeared out of the bathroom dressed in black shoes, pink socks, a jean mini-skirt, and a short-sleeved tee-shirt that sported a large picture of a wolf on it. The transition from before was incredible, as instead of looking like some sort of disheveled bum, she now looked like an actual female.
"You're rather good looking when you've been cleaned up," Lara smiled. "I suppose first impressions can be wrong after all."
Roxy blushed. "Thanks…"
"Anyway, about the diamond," Lara continued. "Most people nowadays seem to believe that it was merely a large stone, formed by pure chance in the bowels of the earth, and uncovered when Mt. Mihara, a semi-dormant volcano on the main island of Honshu, erupted about four hundred years ago. What the people who lived back in that time thought, however, is quite a different story."
"Yeah?"
"According to legend, there was a time when the fishermen worshiped a greater god by the name of Susano-O, who was the God of Storms and the Sea itself. Before starting out to fish each morning, and before returning home at night, the fishermen would pray to Susano-O for a good catch, and for safety while travelling on the water.
"One fateful day, however, three hours after the fishermen had gone to sea, a fearsome storm, accompanied by a tidal wave, which the Japanese called a 'tsunami,' swept the fishermen completely away, and caused unbelievable amounts of damage to many of the coastal villages of the country. The women and children who were left without their husbands and fathers because of this tragedy decided to stop devoting themselves to a god that obviously cared so little for his followers, and instead began to worship Tsukiyomi, the Moon God.
"What the villagers did not know, however, was that the tsunami was not deliberately caused by Susano-O. It arose as the result of an argument between himself and Hachiman, the God of War. Hachiman had proposed the idea of converting the fishermen from simple workers to great warriors, who would ride forth on boats to conquer other lands. Susano-O was, naturally, very opposed to this, and it created a rather heated battle between the two. As Hachiman was visiting Susano-O under the water at the time, the fight caused terrible waves to spring up and crash down upon the helpless fishermen and villages.
"Seeing the result of his careless interaction with Hachiman, and the end results of the devastation and abandonment of his worshipers, Susano-O wept very bitter tears. He cried for many days and nights continuously, and where his tears touched land, they became valuable gemstones.
"Unable to control his grief, but not wishing for sudden wealth to rain down upon the various villages, he took his tears to the volcano of Mt. Mihara, and cried there, hoping that the humans would never journey inside to discover the large diamond that had formed within.
"Tsukiyomi, wishing to give the villagers who now worshiped him a reward, waited for Susano-O to depart the volcano and return to the seas. When he did, Tsukiyomi imbued the large diamond with the power of the moon, and caused the volcano to erupt, thus exposing the gem.
"When they found it, the people noticed its incredible healing powers, for the moon is the symbol of life to the Japanese, and soon there was no illness among the tiny villages.
"Sadly, once this power was heard of by the Emperor, he ordered his army to retrieve this mystical gemstone at any cost. Dozens of villagers were slaughtered until the army took possession of the diamond, and brought it behind the walls of the palace, where it would only benefit the Emperor and his court.
"Upset at the problems caused by the possession of this gem by the Emperor (who now no longer feared even death), Hachiman commissioned his most loyal disciple, Yoshi-Iye, to infiltrate the palace, recover the diamond, and hide it away so it would never again be found. With the blessings of his God, Yoshi-Iye did just that, and to this day, no one knows the location of the Tsunami Diamond."
It took Roxy a moment to realize that her mouth was hanging open, and she quickly closed it. "Holy shit! I mean… How did you learn all that?"
"The traditional Judeo-Christian mythology is not all I'm interested in," Lara smiled. "The Asian people have some fascinating stories concerning ancient artifacts and the Gods who created them."
"Yeah, I guess so…maybe I should take a couple history classes when I get to college."
"And so, now that you know the story behind the Tsunami Diamond, exactly how do you propose to go about finding it?"
"Um…" Roxy bit her lower lip in thought. "I guess…I dunno. I guess I just kinda thought that, you know, maybe we could just go and…well…get it?"
Lara laughed. "I feel I'd be out of a job if it were that simple, dear." Lara lifted the receiver of the phone. "Alright, you've convinced me."
"Who're you calling?" Roxy asked. "Um…this is gonna be a secret, right?"
"I have to cancel the rest of my lecture tour, obviously," Lara replied.
"Won't you get into some trouble for that?"
Lara flashed her a sly grin. "What are they going to do, fire me?"
* * * * *
"Woah, hold on a second there," Bobby said as Caitlin finished her report. "Run that by me again?"
"I.O. has been tracking us recently," Caitlin replied.
"If they've been tracking us, why haven't they moved in?" Rainmaker asked.
"Because I.O. is operating under the assumption that we are at full strength," Lynch said. "That is why we could not allow the location of Grunge's body to be revealed to anyone. Especially Roxanne."
"I get it now," Bobby said. "We couldn't know about it because if we started going out there, someone would catch on, right?"
"More than that," Caitlin said. "I.O. wants all the bodies of former Gen-actives recovered for further study. If we want him to rest in peace, we can't be going out to where we buried him and start laying flowers and stuff."
"Wait a minute," Rainmaker started. "Why didn't Roxy get told?"
"She was told," Lynch said. "She and I had a very long talk the night after it happened. I attempted to explain it to her. I believe her parting words before she slammed the door in my face were, 'You really are a heartless bastard.'"
"That's Roxy, alright…" Bobby said.
"One question I do have, though," Caitlin said, turning to face Lynch. "Why didn't you try and stop Roxy from leaving. You could have activated the perimeter defense and kept her here."
"I have a tracker on her," Lynch shrugged. "Since she doesn't know the location of Grunge's grave, she's in no condition to give the secret away."
"Aren't you worried about where she's going?" Bobby asked. "I mean, she could be trying to fly into outer space or something…"
"She's not completely stable," Rainmaker agreed. "Did she say anything in the note about where she was headed?"
Caitlin shook her head. "Nothing."
"Maybe her computer can tell us something," Bobby suggested.
"Good idea," Lynch said.
There was a mad dash for Roxy's room upstairs.
"Cripes," Bobby said as he opened the door. "Did she ever clean in here?"
"How frequently did you clean your room when you were sixteen?" Rainmaker asked.
"Ummm…"
"That's what I thought."
"Never mind that…" Lynch stepped gingerly over the piles of half-eaten bags of chips, dirty clothing, and other assorted pieces of junk that cluttered Roxy's floor, and flipped her computer on. "I believe a quick glance at the cache memory will tell us what she was up to lately." A few taps on the keyboard caused the last few dozen files accessed up on the screen, and he stared at them for a long several minutes without saying a work.
"What's all that gibberish?" Bobby asked.
"Oh my God…" Caitlin breathed.
"I think I may have viewed this situation a little too lightly," Lynch said. He pointed to a line of the cache on the screen:
"What's all that crap?" Bobby asked.
"It's a search query on the Internet," Caitlin answered. "She was looking up resurrection."
"What's so bad about that?" Rainmaker asked.
"Nothing…if it were alone. But I fear something caught her attention. Observe…" Lynch moved down a couple more lines, and poked at two more sections of the memory.
? pg=q&kl=XX&q=%2Bresurrection+%2Bmythology
"I don't get it," Rainmaker said.
"She went looking for mythology concerning resurrection, then decided to check up on Lara Croft," Caitlin said.
"Hey, isn't she that hot archaeologist babe?" Bobby asked.
Lynch rolled his eyes. "Your art of expression is second to none."
"You don't think…" Rainmaker's voice trailed off.
"Yes, I most certainly do think!" Lynch said suddenly. He pulled an object the size of a pocket watch out of his shirt and glanced into it. "I think she's either found her already, or she's determined to do so. She's leaving the range of this tracker…in another hour, she'll be invisible to us. Damn it!"
"Wait a minute! I thought you said that tracker had a range that stretched all across the nation!" Bobby said. "Sure, she may have gone out east a ways, but still…"
"She's out over the Atlantic right now," Lynch snarled. "And we're going to lose her if we don't go after her. Get suited up. I'll start up the jet. Now hurry!"
The team scattered in all directions.
* * * * *
The ringing of the phone was the catalyst in the shattering of the normally silent room where Nigel slept. For being the current head of I.O., and the overseer of the Genesis Project, his room that he had selected and decorated was surprisingly sparse. A single twin-size bed, one bedside table, a chest of drawers, and a small sofa dotted the rather spacious living quarters. In front of the sofa was a small tatami, a Japanese straw mat. In the corner, a 50-gallon aquarium bubbled serenely. Everything was at an idyllic equilibrium of peace and tranquility.
Until the phone rang.
Nigel woke up almost instantly, and his hand snatched the receiver away. "What is it? I left orders not to be disturbed for another five hours!"
"Sorry," the voice on the other end apologized. "I thought you'd be interested in seeing this." A computer monitor on his wall flared to life, showing a small map of the eastern continental United States and half of the Atlantic ocean, with a tiny red dot slowly inching its way east over the water.
Nigel stared at the map. "What am I looking at?"
"Radar picked it up a few moments ago. It's a Boeing passenger jet that took off from an airstrip somewhere in the Great Plains region."
"Why are we tracking it?"
"Because according to the radar sensor, there's a Gen-active on board."
Nigel was instantly on alert. "Are any of our under-cover operatives scheduled to take a flight across the Atlantic?"
"No sir. I checked the data files myself. It's got to be a rogue."
"I want a team of Black Hammers dispatched at once to ensure that whatever Gen-Active is on that plane does not get off at his intended destination," Nigel ordered.
"There's something else, sir…"
"What's that?"
"Do you remember that English girl that had been to Atlantis? The one that was helping the detective in New York a few months back??"
"You mean that Sarah Pezzini character?" Nigel asked. "Of course I do. Why?"
"We checked a long-range DNA scan…according to the results of the scan, the English girl is on the plane."
"If she was in Atlantis," Nigel started to muse, "it's possible…unlikely, but possible…that she was exposed to some sort of gene-altering substance, isn't it? Especially since we know what sort of character Jacqueline Natla was?"
"That was our conclusion," the voice on the other end said.
"If so, then the Gen-active on that plane might be her," Nigel said. "None of the members of Lynch's team have been outside his jamming barrier, correct?"
"Right, sir."
"Have the Hammers hit the plane. Make it look like an accident. Bring the girl back to me. Do we have a name for her?"
"Yes, sir. Croft."
"Croft…" Nigel smiled. "I think she may prove to be the missing link to our research. You've done well. Let me know when you've got her back. Alive, and in one piece."
"Yes, sir."
The video monitor next to him went blank, plunging the room around him back into a subdued darkness as Nigel placed the receiver back on its cradle. One last piece of the puzzle…the game was afoot. It was a game he intended to play to its final conclusion.