Disclaimer: Characters of Tomb Raider games and movies are not my property and they never will be.
Up the Volcano
Not finding any other kind of transportation Kurtis decided to walk to the volcano. Although the road wasn't that terribly long he didn't look forward to walk in the heat of a day. He'd rather travel by night but now he had no choice. This time time was his enemy and every second that passed by counted. There was no room for sitting around, no time to fall apart and no time to think twice. The decision at hand was like a double-edged sword - either way would get him hurt somehow for he didn't believe he could survive a fight with a nephilim unscratched and if he wouldn't walk up the path the whole world would be on the edge of destruction. He looked at the road leading away to the volcano thinking if he could bear the weight of being responsible for the letting Karel do what he wanted in the Halls. Could he really look himself in the mirror ever again if he decided not to go?
He had tried it once before, tried to just walk away but he couldn't. What he was had followed him to the Foreign Legion and during those years he was given the name 'Demonhunter'. The name itself had always been enough to remind him about his purpose of existence. There was never going to be a 'normal' life for him and it was better if he accepted it now.
He looked back before taking his first step on the road leading to the volcano and hoped he wouldn't regret it. There was also the possibility that he wouldn't live to regret it or then he would regret it the rest of his life. He turned around to see the town one last time. At least this time it was by a choice. When he was a child his training had been a must, something he had to do to gain his father's respect, respect of a person who had found it impossible to care for him if he didn't pass each test. He had always felt more like a pet, a trained dog, than Konstantin's son.
He tried to keep up a steady pace but to him it seemed the road would never end. It crawled up the volcano like a snake and every time he turned around a corner all he could see was more road. He sighed and kept on going.
At that moment he heard talking from behind him and suddenly three bikes overtook him. He could've sworn that for a moment he stared directly at Lara and she stared back. It only lasted for a few seconds and then the elderly man riding one of the bikes yelled something at her. It sounded like 'Watch out, Ms. Croft' to Kurtis but he wasn't entirely sure.
The man's voice was awfully familiar to Kurtis and sent shivers down his spine. It couldn't be. To him that voice had died years ago. He had attended the funeral of the person to whom that voice belonged. He had stood many long hours by the gravestone carrying that voice's owner's name. Stood there half wishing that the grave would be empty and somewhere out there was a person who could give him answers to all of his questions while the other half hoped that the person who had taken his childhood would indeed rest there, six feet under. He had stood there waiting for the grave to grow cold that he could go on with his life. It had been impossible. To him the man in the coffin was like an open wound, always bleeding and only one person knew how to fill up the holes.
Quickly he sought refuge from behind a nearby milestone hoping they wouldn't notice him if they decided to look back. He waited behind the milestone for a while and peeked around the corner every now and then to make sure that he was beyond their sight. As soon as they had disappeared behind yet another turn in the road he emerged from his hideout.
The road was empty like the people who biked on it just a few moments ago hadn't even existed. The moment was gone but he could still remember it, remember the man's voice. The man, he was almost sure it was his father, who he had abandoned not because he had to but because he chose to. He hadn't simply wanted to live the life set for him, all the glories and defeats already thought of, all the highlights pointed out and all the rules already written. It had been a prison for his free will. Something so human had been disregarded for greater good. Perhaps they had thought that sacrificing few with the 'gift' to save many was a good choice but what if the ones sacrificed weren't happy about their part of the deal?
He kicked a small pebble to the side of the road and watched it land among hundreds of similar ones. A small smile crept to his lips. The pebble reminded him of his running away but later he had understood that he couldn't run. It was in his blood - literally, it was in his genes. It had been handed to him on a platter which hadn't been made of silver - it had been rusted, the very material grown old and weary of the war that didn't seem to end.
He kept on walking - first walking slowly and then quickened his pace. It just dawned to him that if Lara was going to the volcano it had to be the right place, or at least so he hoped. He based his beliefs on the fact that Lara had a far larger library than he did so she had to do her homework well. If the man riding one of the bikes was who he believed him to be then there was something bigger going on.
He almost ran the rest of the way but slowed down when he heard voices again. He crawled the remaining distance and peeked over the rocky wall to see the three persons standing there, looking at the crater and talking. What was said he couldn't hear but it seemed like a tour of some kind, at least the third person was acting like a guide - telling something he had rehearsed, something someone else had written. Kurtis hated all that kind of tours - they had no soul and the guides were boring people who had lost the spark they used to have while learning the speeches written for them. Then something happened. Lara dragged the other man a few steps away from the guide and Kurtis swallowed. Had something, that proved that the Halls actually weren't there, turned out?
As soon as they returned to the guide Kurtis saw some movement behind them - a man using a woman as a shield appeared. Kurtis couldn't see it but he knew the woman was held at gunpoint. She seemed awfully calm, like she didn't mind at all if he was to shoot her in the head. In the next minute the person Kurtis had thought to be a guide fell down, seemingly dead and lifeless, all life driven our of him by a finger that pressed a piece of metal. Yet Kurtis hadn't heard a thing. It seemed that there was a silencer attached to the gun. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the shadow katana but he loosened his grasp as he saw Lara pulling her gun and aiming.
The next thing he saw was many men appearing to the gunman's side and each of them had a gun of some kind pointed at the two people standing there as if they were the last obstacle between the man and the Halls. Was that Karel? He seemed like the leader of the group. He saw the man he thought to be his father reaching out for Lara's gun as if he wanted to take it from her taking the last defense they had against Karel's group. Konstantin was about to drop the weapon but instead of letting go he raised it again and aimed. The sound of a gunshot filled the air.
Up the Volcano
Not finding any other kind of transportation Kurtis decided to walk to the volcano. Although the road wasn't that terribly long he didn't look forward to walk in the heat of a day. He'd rather travel by night but now he had no choice. This time time was his enemy and every second that passed by counted. There was no room for sitting around, no time to fall apart and no time to think twice. The decision at hand was like a double-edged sword - either way would get him hurt somehow for he didn't believe he could survive a fight with a nephilim unscratched and if he wouldn't walk up the path the whole world would be on the edge of destruction. He looked at the road leading away to the volcano thinking if he could bear the weight of being responsible for the letting Karel do what he wanted in the Halls. Could he really look himself in the mirror ever again if he decided not to go?
He had tried it once before, tried to just walk away but he couldn't. What he was had followed him to the Foreign Legion and during those years he was given the name 'Demonhunter'. The name itself had always been enough to remind him about his purpose of existence. There was never going to be a 'normal' life for him and it was better if he accepted it now.
He looked back before taking his first step on the road leading to the volcano and hoped he wouldn't regret it. There was also the possibility that he wouldn't live to regret it or then he would regret it the rest of his life. He turned around to see the town one last time. At least this time it was by a choice. When he was a child his training had been a must, something he had to do to gain his father's respect, respect of a person who had found it impossible to care for him if he didn't pass each test. He had always felt more like a pet, a trained dog, than Konstantin's son.
He tried to keep up a steady pace but to him it seemed the road would never end. It crawled up the volcano like a snake and every time he turned around a corner all he could see was more road. He sighed and kept on going.
At that moment he heard talking from behind him and suddenly three bikes overtook him. He could've sworn that for a moment he stared directly at Lara and she stared back. It only lasted for a few seconds and then the elderly man riding one of the bikes yelled something at her. It sounded like 'Watch out, Ms. Croft' to Kurtis but he wasn't entirely sure.
The man's voice was awfully familiar to Kurtis and sent shivers down his spine. It couldn't be. To him that voice had died years ago. He had attended the funeral of the person to whom that voice belonged. He had stood many long hours by the gravestone carrying that voice's owner's name. Stood there half wishing that the grave would be empty and somewhere out there was a person who could give him answers to all of his questions while the other half hoped that the person who had taken his childhood would indeed rest there, six feet under. He had stood there waiting for the grave to grow cold that he could go on with his life. It had been impossible. To him the man in the coffin was like an open wound, always bleeding and only one person knew how to fill up the holes.
Quickly he sought refuge from behind a nearby milestone hoping they wouldn't notice him if they decided to look back. He waited behind the milestone for a while and peeked around the corner every now and then to make sure that he was beyond their sight. As soon as they had disappeared behind yet another turn in the road he emerged from his hideout.
The road was empty like the people who biked on it just a few moments ago hadn't even existed. The moment was gone but he could still remember it, remember the man's voice. The man, he was almost sure it was his father, who he had abandoned not because he had to but because he chose to. He hadn't simply wanted to live the life set for him, all the glories and defeats already thought of, all the highlights pointed out and all the rules already written. It had been a prison for his free will. Something so human had been disregarded for greater good. Perhaps they had thought that sacrificing few with the 'gift' to save many was a good choice but what if the ones sacrificed weren't happy about their part of the deal?
He kicked a small pebble to the side of the road and watched it land among hundreds of similar ones. A small smile crept to his lips. The pebble reminded him of his running away but later he had understood that he couldn't run. It was in his blood - literally, it was in his genes. It had been handed to him on a platter which hadn't been made of silver - it had been rusted, the very material grown old and weary of the war that didn't seem to end.
He kept on walking - first walking slowly and then quickened his pace. It just dawned to him that if Lara was going to the volcano it had to be the right place, or at least so he hoped. He based his beliefs on the fact that Lara had a far larger library than he did so she had to do her homework well. If the man riding one of the bikes was who he believed him to be then there was something bigger going on.
He almost ran the rest of the way but slowed down when he heard voices again. He crawled the remaining distance and peeked over the rocky wall to see the three persons standing there, looking at the crater and talking. What was said he couldn't hear but it seemed like a tour of some kind, at least the third person was acting like a guide - telling something he had rehearsed, something someone else had written. Kurtis hated all that kind of tours - they had no soul and the guides were boring people who had lost the spark they used to have while learning the speeches written for them. Then something happened. Lara dragged the other man a few steps away from the guide and Kurtis swallowed. Had something, that proved that the Halls actually weren't there, turned out?
As soon as they returned to the guide Kurtis saw some movement behind them - a man using a woman as a shield appeared. Kurtis couldn't see it but he knew the woman was held at gunpoint. She seemed awfully calm, like she didn't mind at all if he was to shoot her in the head. In the next minute the person Kurtis had thought to be a guide fell down, seemingly dead and lifeless, all life driven our of him by a finger that pressed a piece of metal. Yet Kurtis hadn't heard a thing. It seemed that there was a silencer attached to the gun. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the shadow katana but he loosened his grasp as he saw Lara pulling her gun and aiming.
The next thing he saw was many men appearing to the gunman's side and each of them had a gun of some kind pointed at the two people standing there as if they were the last obstacle between the man and the Halls. Was that Karel? He seemed like the leader of the group. He saw the man he thought to be his father reaching out for Lara's gun as if he wanted to take it from her taking the last defense they had against Karel's group. Konstantin was about to drop the weapon but instead of letting go he raised it again and aimed. The sound of a gunshot filled the air.