Slouching Toward Bethlehem
A continuation of Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Angel of Darkness.
Disclaimer:
I do not own any recognisable characters that appear in this piece of fiction. Lara Croft, Kurtis Trent and others are property of Eidos and Crystal Dynamics. The only thing I own is some OCs and the plot. This story was written for pleasure only. I am making no profit from this story.
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»Chapter Six: Vendettas»
Kurtis checked his speed and turned right, barrelling down another dingy corridor of Prague General. Anyone still in the vicinity had taken refuge in the rooms, so he found his way unchallenged and quite devoid of human life. The growing sounds of his pursuers reached his ears, and he snatched a quick glance over his shoulder. The advancing shadows of their figures were emerging just around the corner, and he hurriedly tore his gaze away and sped onwards.
He had just rounded a corner when there was a roar of gunfire, and several bullets impacted into the wall where his head had been moments earlier. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to go faster.
If only he'd had a chance to recover; he might have been up and walking the hospital's corridors days ago. Maybe then he would have had a slight clue as to where the fuck he was going. The only advantage he could see to the situation was that Karel hadn't a clue either.
There appeared a fork in the corridors before him and he chose the right way, merely because he was right-handed and it would be easier to keep track of the turns. Sure enough he came to two more junctions, going right each time, before reaching the stairwell. He threw his shoulder at the door and burst out onto the stairs, leaning against the railing in order to catch his breath. He allowed himself a whole two seconds of rest before racing down the stairs, opting to take the conventional route instead of leaping down like he had done at the Louvre. He was in no condition to be doing that anyways. There were no beautiful women to impress this time either.
He made it down one set of stairs before his pursuers caught him, emerging suddenly from the doorway to the ground floor. The two men both held pistols in their hands, aimed straight at Kurtis' head. He was not going to be defeated so easily though, and as quick as lightning he let loose his Chirguai. The bladed disc severed the hand off one man, effectively disarming him, and Kurtis managed to slip between the two as he howled in agony and clutched his bleeding hand. Distracted by his partner's injury, the other man was a little too slow to react to Kurtis' escape. When he regained his senses and raised his weapon, Kurtis had already disappeared down the corridor.
He was far from safe however, as another group of men seemed to appear out of nowhere, blocking his way out of the main entrance. Undeterred, Kurtis changed course in mid-career, racing towards the side entrance. Thankfully the hospital signs were printed in Czech, German and English, and he'd noticed a sign on the wall reading 'Private Parking Lot', figuring he could probably reach his bike in time.
Soon enough another sign appeared, pointing down the left corridor. Kurtis raced on, kept going solely by adrenaline and sheer determination. Whatever these guys wanted with him it could not be good.
He was about halfway down the corridor when he found his route blocked by more men. Turning around he saw his earlier pursuers about a dozen feet away. Looking desperately about him he noticed a door marked 'Store Room'. It was the best he was going to get, and he disappeared into the room, locking the door securely behind him. The handle rattled dangerously, and he looked about him for a means of escape.
A small air vent high up on the right wall caught his eye, and he raised his Boran X. The vent cover soon lay riddled with bullets on the floor as Kurtis climbed a stacking shelf and eased himself into the vent shaft. He had only gone a few metres when he heard the unmistakeable sound of wood impacting and splintering. A resulting slam told him they had opened the door, and he lay as still and quiet as possible, hoping they would not notice his presence. It was quite difficult when his breath came out in ragged gasps, still trying to recover from the unexpected exertion. His hope was soon shattered however, when a gruff voice rang out not far from his position.
"He's in the vent!"
Kurtis cursed under his breath, then immediately had to scrabble for cover as a barrage of bullets were fired into his hiding place. Thankfully he had turned a junction in the vent shaft, so any bullets were in no danger of finding their mark.
"Gentlemen!" a different voice called, bringing an immediate halt to the gunfire. Kurtis knew without having to see that it was Karel. "Killing Mr. Trent was not a part of the agreement. Although," Kurtis did not even need to imagine the malicious smile on his face, "That does not mean we can't do any damage."
There were a number of sniggers from the men, and Kurtis vaguely wondered if they were men. He could not imagine any human being rejoicing in causing another pain.
"The bastard cut off my hand!" another spoke, and Kurtis could already guess which one, "I'm not gonna let him die all clean and quick-like with a bullet to the head!"
There was a murmur of agreement
"Just be glad you are in a hospital Jonath," Karel said, "And you did not needlessly bleed to death." There was a pause, and then he spoke louder.
"Gunderson, take your men and move out!"
TBC...
hehe, here is another chapter uploaded way too fast for you all! What can I say? I have a nice long weekend to relax and catch up on fanfiction... Mock exams suck so bad! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one :)