The Adventures of Lara Croft & David Connors

by C. Mage

Lara Croft continues her adventures, with an unlikely partner...with unexpected results.

12. Webs Of The Widow

Webs Of The Black Widow

By C. Mage and Dayne Chastant

David clicked off the TV in Lara's room and got up from the bed, feeling quite fatigued. It had been quite a night, and David had finally gotten to sleep at three in the morning.

The problem was, he was the only one in the bed.

He got up and went to the bathroom to grab a shower. Ever since Lara had gone to Oxford to give her lectures on first and second-century Japan, David felt unmotivated and listless. Even the recent purchase of a Sony PlayStation™ and some video games failed to break him out of his morose mood. He had spent the night before alternately playing video games and trying out the new obstacle course Lara had completed a few months before. Until Lara had left, he hadn't used it much at all, but now he was spending time on it constantly, bordering on obsessively. For three solid days, he occupied his time by exercising and running through the course over and over again, punctuated only by meals, sleep and calls of nature.

One might've called it boredom if it weren't for the looks towards the front gate that David gave every so often.

As he stepped out of one of the pools of water in the course, the butler came out of the house, bearing a headset phone. David looked at the aged man and had to feel sorry for him. After all, he thought, keeping up with Lara Croft is no easy task. I can barely do it myself. "Hi, Mannfred. What's the haps?"

"Phone call for you, sir," Mannfred said tiredly.

"Really???" David picked up the phone. "Lara?"

"Sorry, hon. Wrong girl."

David's face fell like icebergs in spring. "Who is this?"

"Now, I'm surprised at you, David...how can you not remember me? The Midtown Slasher case ring any bells?"

Recognition sprouted like a weed. "Mace Daniels."

"None other. So, hot stuff, how you been doing? I missed ya."

"Yeah, only because you're still pulling to the left when you shoot," David said sourly. He remembered Mace, alright, more than he liked. In many ways, Mace Daniels was similar to Lara Croft: busty, quite attractive, combat-capable, active lifestyles, prone to wearing tight clothing while working. However, the similarities ended when definitions of personality came around. Mace was as circumspect as Lara was direct. Lara was aware of her good looks, but Mace made everyone around her aware of her good looks. Where Lara Croft was no-nonsense and serious, Mace Daniels was hot-blooded and mercurial. And where Lara was rather selective about her lovers, not to mention cautious, Mace would screw any good-looking men she saw...after teasing them for a while first.

"Not any more."

"So what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?" David asked pointedly.

"I told you, I missed you...and, well..."

"You need my help."

"NEED is a pretty strong word, Davey."

"Call me 'Davey' one more time, Mace, and next thing you'll hear is a dial tone. You know I hate that name."

"Okay, okay, relax...! Sheesh, if I'd known the English air was going to make you cranky, I would've called earlier. What's wrong, David? Your new girlfriend not putting out?"

"I'm going to count to one, as fast as I can, and then I'm going to hang up...!"

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!!! I give, I'm sorry, I apologize, I abase myself, okay??"

David took a deep breath. Mace Daniels always did have that effect on him. "What do you want, Mace?"

"I would like your help on an assignment."

"Why me? Why not call Hawk, or lease that psycho Jackson from prison again?"

"Hawk and I are having a slight difference of opinion at the moment..."

"Translation: you got into a fight. With Hawk. AGAIN."

"...and Jackson's too heavy-duty for this kind of job. I need finesse, not a wrecking crew."

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"It'll be fun working together again?" Mace asked. David knew she was grinning by the sound of her voice.

"I said a GOOD reason."

"Look, I can't go into details on the phone...let's just say that it involves an old friend of yours from Chinatown. A certain Mr. Sung."

David was suddenly all ears. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Alright, Mace, but you owe me one. BIG time. I'll be on the next plane from Heathrow and I'll call your cellular once I'm in the air to let you know when and where I'm coming in. Is it still the same number?"

"No, I had it changed a few times."

"Yeah, and I think I know why. Just give me the number." David read it back to her to make sure he had memorized it completely, then hung up. "Mannfred, I've got to go back to the United States for a few days. When Lara gets back, tell her that I won't be long."

"Certainly, Master David."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go pack." David started to walk back to the manor, then turned. "Oh, and Mannfred?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get some rest."

"Thank you, sir," Mannfred said, meaning it.

Lara pulled herself out of the ruined area of the Great Wall of China and dusted herself off. I swear, if I NEVER see another Tyrannosaurus Rex again, it'll be far too soon. Spielberg's to blame for this, I'm sure of it. She took out her satphone and dialed up the manor. I'd better let David know that I'm going to be a trifle late.

"Croft Manor," came the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Mannfred, have Dave come to the phone."

"Lady Croft, Master David had to leave abruptly. On his way out, he mentioned that he had to take care of an old debt in the States and would be back in a few days."

Lara was mildly relieved. "Good. That gives me time to take care of a few things here. I won't be coming home for a few days, Mannfred." She looked up as the helicopter she chartered came into view. "Something's come up. If David contacts you or gets home before I do, please let him know."

"Certainly," Mannfred replied.

Lara hung up the phone and reached out for the rope that swung into reach.

Time to get a wiggle on...Venice, here I come.

David got off the plane and looked around for Mace. He doubted that he would have much trouble picking her out; Mace Daniels was not subtle in her sense of fashion. On the other hand, David had worn a suit, a practice he had picked up hanging around some of Lara's friends. He'd actually gotten used to them, but Lara had to pick out the styles for him. While David's deductive abilities were top-notch when it came to criminology, when it came to men's fashion, David didn't have a clue.

"Dave!"

David turned to see Mace Daniels walking towards him. She was dressed in black leather pants, a leather halter top and a red leather bolero jacket. The sway in her hips was evident even from where David stood at the gate. "Geez, Mace, don't you wear anything but leather anymore?" he asked as she got closer.

"Look who's talking." Mace reached out and fingered his tie. "Nice suit, David. Nice tie. Lose a bet?"

"Enough already. If you came here to bust my chops about clothes..." David did crack a small smile, however. "Look, let's just get out of here, okay?"

"Fine with me. My bike's out this way."

A motorcycle. Figures. "So tell me about Sung."

"Two days ago, he disappears. I hear about it when somebody tries to break into his place and the police are called by his security system. They get there and the perp's caught, but the place has been empty for too long and they get a call from Sung's daughter that he missed an appointment to have lunch with her."

David nodded as they walked out of the terminal. "Doesn't sound like Sung. He never misses a lunch with relatives, he's too traditionally minded."

"That's what I thought. Anyway, it's been four days now, and nobody's heard from him. Thought you wanted to know, him being your friend and all that, but it took me a bit of searching to find you in England. You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address and Lara Croft wasn't listed."

"Too many people around here would like to see my lungs filled with water from the Hudson. No thanks. How'd you connect me with her, anyway?"

"Elementary, my dear David. You and her were in the papers about a year ago. Something about a problem at a museum?"

"Oh, yeah. Part of Lara's past needed to be re-buried. Or in this case, cremated."

"Who?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know. The woman who wanted Lara's butt waxed was smart, rich and a certifiable wacko. Long story." David stopped as Mace walked to a Kawasaki Ninja. "THAT'S your bike?"

"Sure. Get on, hotshot, and hold on tight. I like going fast." Mace grinned as she jumped astride the crotch-rocket.

"Some things don't change. So, where to first?"

"Sung's house. Let's see if we can't pick up a clue or two." Mace gunned the engine and David held on tight to avoid falling off, which suited Mace just fine.

The house in question was an apartment building that had been hollowed out to serve as a karate school. The first floor was a wide area with a mat in the center, with offices in the back and a side hallway leading to the upper two floors, where Sung and his trainers lived. Mace parked the bike out front and got off. David stepped to the door and picked the lock. As he did so, he looked through the glass doors to find that the floor was empty and the lights dark. David reached under his jacket and pulled out a Desert Eagle .50 pistol.

Mace turned to David and cocked an eyebrow. "You always draw your gun when investigating an empty school?"

"Look to your right," David said softly. "And keep your voice down."

Mace turned to see a paper on the door with a schedule of classes on it. "So?"

"According to that paper, there should be two classes going on right now, one for seven-to-ten year olds and one for teens."

Mace turned back to David. "You got all that from just walking past it?"

David smiled secretly. "You mean you didn't?"

"Smart-ass." Mace pulled out a 9mm Beretta. "What's the plan?"

"You check the offices, I'll go upstairs." David walked to the hallway leading to the stairs. "And watch your butt, Mace."

"I'd rather watch yours. And such a nice, tight butt, too."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." David moved to the stairs and looked up the stairwell. There was no sign of anyone, so he took the stairs up, step-by-cautious-step and checked the first floor. The rooms were unlocked and a check inside revealed neat, orderly rooms, with no sign of a struggle. However, there were no signs of Mr. Sung or his staff. A search of the second floor revealed the same thing, but David was alerted to a strange fact.

The dressers were very low on clothes.

He went back downstairs to see Mace, who was going through the files.

"Anything?"

"Not yet. You?"

"It's odd...there's no sign of a fight or struggle, and the staff apparently packed their clothes to go somewhere." David went to the trashcan and started looking through it.

"What are you looking for in there? Used coffee grounds?"

"Mace, you're still quite new to the P.I. biz, so let me give you a tip. If you want to know about someone on an intimate level without them knowing about it, go through their garbage. It...wait." He pulled out a wad of stiff paper and opened it up."

"What's it say? Is it a ransom note?"

"No...it's a sign." David turned it around to reveal a white cardstock sign with red lettering: "ON VACATION FROM 12-04-97 to 12-15-97. ALL CLASSES WILL BE SUSPENDED UNTIL THEN." "What's the date today?"

"The sixth. You think the kidnappers left the sign to cover their tracks?"

"Doubtful. If they wanted to throw people off, why did they throw the sign into the trash? They could've saved themselves a lot of trouble simply by taking it with them or shredding it to make sure no one would read it."

Mace looked at the sign. "How can we be sure?"

David dropped the sign on the desk. "Sung's not only a traditionalist, but he's also somewhat anal-retentive. Let's see...yes." He opened the desk and took out an organizer, leafing through the pages until David found the number he was looking for. He picked up the phone, dialed the number and waited.

"What are you doing?" Mace asked.

"Shhhhh. Hello, Miku? Hi, this is David. Is your father there? Really? That's nice. Okay...yeah. Got it. Alright, I'll try calling him later. Bye." David hung up.

"Well?"

"That was Miku, Sung's daughter. Sung went on a promotional tour in China; the school's sponsor got a donation from an anonymous benefactor to send them there."

"Wait a minute...the police said that her daughter said that she hadn't heard from her father."

"Who told them that?"

"Sung's daughter called them by phone..." Mace stopped. "A fake?"

"Maybe."

"What the hell's going on, David?" Mace said in consternation, walking towards the door. "This is nuts! Sung's not gone missing after all...David, don't look at me like that, I didn't make this shit up! I don't know anything about this except what I got from the police."

"I know. You may be a somewhat good detective, Mace, but you're a poor liar. Something doesn't add up." David looked at his watch. "It's getting late. Let's go back to your office. I want to open Sung's file and see what we may have missed."

The barrel just missed Lara by a hair and she rolled forward, springing back to her feet and running from the two armed thugs following her and spraying lead down the hallway. Normally, she would've drawn her pistols and blown them both off the face of the Earth, but she had one slight problem.

Lara was, for once, completely unarmed.

Not willingly, of course. She had followed Marco Bartolli to the amphibian cargo plane and had found out more about his plans, but she had forgotten to take into account that she might not be the only one in the cargo hold. A thug with a pipe wrench had sent her into unconsciousness and Bartolli had thrown her into a cell for later interrogation, figuring to grill her later about what she knew.

As it turned out, that was a fatal mistake, since Lara had managed to find a hidden switch that opened the cell from the inside, a protective measure Bartolli had overlooked. However, the offshore rig where Bartolli was running his salvage operations was loaded, literally, with armed guards with no compunctions about shooting first and apologizing later. At that moment, Lara wasn't completely sure whom the error was going to be fatal to; Bartolli or herself.

As she leaped across a gap in the concrete catwalk, she wished for the thousandth time that she'd asked David to come along to watch her back. Of course, he hadn't been there to get the call, but she could've asked Mannfred to have David meet her in Venice.

Lara paused to take a breath and to bandage up a bullet wound; her weapons may have been taken, but her other supplies had been left behind. David, I swear...if I get out of this ruddy place alive, I'm never going to let you out of my sight. This particular profession has gotten much harder as of late.

With that in mind, she ran to the main hangar bay. There was something about that plane that asked for further investigation...

Mace came back to her office, arms laden with food. She saw David put the receiver of her phone back in its cradle. "Obscene phone call?" she asked.

"Depends on your definition. I just heard from Lara...she's gone to VENICE, of all places. She left a message with her butler and I just got the news." He shook his head. "First China, now Venice."

"Aw, buck up, little buckaroo. Maybe next year."

"I'd say 'bite me,' but you'd take me up on the offer. Let's get to work."

Later that evening, David put down the file. "I don't like this."

"What's to like?" Mace asked, finishing off the moo goo gai pan. David had eaten little, but Mace's high metabolism craved more sustenance. That, and she was getting the hang of the chopsticks. "You came all the way here from Jolly Old England to find out that you came here on a wild goosechase. I thought you got used to red herrings when you got into the business."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?" Mace asked around a mouthful of noodles.

"...I dunno. Maybe nothing." David got up and walked around the office. "I can't believe you let your place get this bad."

"What are you talking about?" Mace looked around the clean office, the ordered desk, the neat inbox and outbox, the vacuumed floor and the empty wastebasket. "The office is clean."

"That's what I meant. Look at this. I bet there aren't any dustbunnies under the desk, either. It's a crying shame."

"I'm not that bad," Mace said, hoping he wouldn't look under her desk. "Besides, what's wrong with a clean office? Clients come in, they see the place, they get a better impression."

"Mace, if you don't understand it, nobody'll ever be able to explain it to you." David shook his head, walking over to the sofa. "Man, I'm beat. This whole day just wore me out."

"Awww. Poor baby. Well, David, for once, I agree with you. It's time for bed." Mace got up and walked to the closet. She pushed the hangers all the way to the left and pulled down on the bar. David's eyes widened slightly as a Murphy bed came down and rested on the floor. "But I think this is much more comfortable than the sofa."

Just outside the office, a lone figure watched David and Mace through a fiber-optic camera planted in the room while they had been out following leads all day. As the figure saw the bed come down, she smiled. She withdrew a cellular phone from a pocket and dialed an international number.

A voice picked up the line after the first ring. "Yes?"

"Phase One complete. Now beginning Phase Two."

"Excellent. Call me after you are successful. I need not tell you how important this is."

"Don't worry...the imposter," she said that word with a hiss, "will suffer for what she did to me and you."

"Good. Proceed."

"Are you offering me the bed tonight, Mace?" David got up from the sofa.

"Hey, it's the least I could do for an old friend." Mace smiled. "And don't worry, I'll take the sofa. You look like you need the rest and I find the sofa much more comfortable."

David, reassured that Mace wasn't simply asking him into her bed, nodded. "Thanks." He went to the bed and lay down, sighing audibly as he felt a mattress underneath him.

"You might as well take off your clothes, David."

David's head snapped up. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"The landlord doesn't know I've been sleeping in my office. It'll help if I don't have the smell of sweaty male clothes all over my sheets."

Still watching Mace, David slid under the sheets and then undressed, tossing his clothes on one side of the bed. Mace grinned as she lay on the sofa, reaching up with a small remote.

"Good night, David."

"Good night, Mace."

Mace lay there until she heard the regular breaths of David snoring lightly. She waited another half-hour, then got up and undressed.

David was dreaming...a good dream, for once.

He was holding Lara in his arms, and she felt very warm in his hands. Her kisses moved over his cheeks and chest, and David was only too eager to respond. As his hands caressed her, holding her close, he imagined that he could hear her voice calling him...a gentle light framing her body...

Then the light became piercing and he squinted. "Wha..."

"DAVID!!!!"

David suddenly became aware that, one, that was indeed Lara's voice, two, the tone of the voice was a loud scream.

And three, it was coming from David's far left instead of just over his head.

David opened his eyes to see Mace Daniels, minus leathers, lying on top of him, a look of shock on her face and her face turned towards the door. He turned to see Lara Croft, standing at the door of the office wearing a blouse, black slacks and a black jacket, with an equally surprised look tinged with something he had hoped never to see when she was looking at him.

HATRED.

David pushed Mace off of him as if she was a spitting cobra and turned to get out of bed when he realized that he wasn't wearing anything except his underwear. As Lara watched him with dawning disgust on her face, Mace said, "David, I thought you said she was going to Venice...!"

David thought he heard the lid on his coffin nail shut. "Lara, wait, hold on...!!"

"David CONNORS!" Lara said in the exact tone of voice David had prayed he'd never hear from her, "I can't believe this! The first time I go off to a lecture, you can't WAIT to run back to the States and take up with some...some...WHORE!"

"Watch it, lady..." Mace warned, then saw the large pistol in Lara's left hand.

"Lara, wait, I can explain...!"

"Do you take me for a fool, David??!" Lara asked incredulously. "Do you think I don't know what you two were doing in here? You tell me, David, what I should think when I see you, in bed, wearing nothing, with some overdeveloped, underdressed...WOMAN in bed with you??" Tears were coming down Lara's cheeks in rivers. "All this time, I saved myself for you, because I wanted to believe that you were special, that you were someone who loved me...when, all this time, you were just trying to get into my knickers and, when you couldn't wait, you ran off to some old lover just so you could..."

David had been shot, punched, kicked and knifed, even blown up, but Lara's words made him feel as if he was Pee-Wee Herman in a title bout versus Mike Tyson...on the fifth round. Her words cut him deeply, robbing him of any speech he could've mustered to defend himself. All he could do was sit there with his mouth open stupidly.

"David Connors..." Lara took a deep breath, then choked, "I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!!" With that, she turned and stomped out.

David found his voice again, grabbing his jeans and pulling them on, trying to run after her at the same time. "LARA, WAIT!" he yelled, stumbling to the door and looking down the hall. His run turned to a dead stop as he realized that Lara's gun was pointing at him.

Then she fired.

David dove back into the room as lead screamed through the air at him, shattering the hazed window in Mace's door and putting numerous holes in the wood around the doorway. When the gunfire stopped, David got up from the floor and ran to the doorway, looking back down the hall.

Lara was gone.

David stood there as Mace put a robe on, watching his back warily. She wasn't sure what David was going to do next. What had become an attempt to seduce him while his guard was down had turned into a typical New York domestic dispute...and Mace knew how unpredictable those could be. David turned around, his face unreadable, and walked slowly to where Mace was standing.

"David...?" Mace asked uncertainly. "Are you...?"

Then Mace saw her carpet. VERY closely. Then the pain in her jaw informed her exactly how she'd gotten there. When she looked up again, David was dressed, jamming his clothes into his nylon dufflebag. She got up quickly and opened her mouth to speak when David looked up at her. The expression on his face killed any chances of speech.

"Mace, don't you say a goddamn thing. Not a word, not a syllable. Maybe, someday, when you realize just how bad you screwed up, I MIGHT listen to what you have to say and what your reasons, however stupid they were, for screwing up the most important thing in my whole life. But right now..." David took a deep, ragged breath, "RIGHT NOW, if you say a fucking thing, I'm going to kill you, Mace. Do you understand me? I'm going to reach down your throat, pull out your fucking heart, and you and I can watch it stop beating together. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? HAVE YOU GRASPED THE DEPTH OF WHAT THE HELL I'M SAYING????"

Mace didn't answer. For the first time in her life, David Connors didn't inspire lust, mirth or confidence in her. What Mace felt now was terror.

David grabbed his bag savagely and went to the door. He turned back once and Mace thought, for one fleeting second, that he was going to apologize or take back any of his words. "Good-bye, Mace Daniels. Have a nice fucking life."

The slamming door dislodged what few shards of glass were left in the door, leaving a faint tinkling noise that thundered in the monstrous silence David left behind. Mace walked to the door and stopped. She knelt at the floor, trying to pick up the pieces of the glass as if she could reassemble them and put the completed pane of glass back in its frame.

Mace was more shattered than the glass on the floor. She had known David ever since he was on the police force and she was still in high school. She'd had a crush on him ever since he came in one day to give a lecture about drug awareness to her sophomore class, and she'd never truly lost it, years later, after she'd graduated from high school and gotten her private investigator's license. She'd worked with David several times, but unlike so many other men, he'd never gotten more friendly with her than a handshake. He had been the only man that had ever said "no" to her and she held on to her desire for him ever since the day she first saw him.

When he'd come to her yesterday, Mace had thought that her lucky day had finally come. She refused to accept that David had been attracted to someone else and brought him in to her office, worked with him on the mystery surrounding Sung. It had felt like old times.

Finally, that night, she let herself be drawn to him and climbed into bed next to him, if only to feel his warmth...at least, that what she'd told herself it was for. Then she found her arms around him, felt his body responding, and thought that she'd finally found her chance. Mace lost herself in the feel of David...

...and then everything went wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong.

Sitting there on the floor, she went over her words, the ones that had damned David. She had only meant to show surprise at seeing Lara there, but her mishmash of feelings had let her become careless with her speech. Mace felt an incredible loss at what happened. She had felt loss before, lost some good friends to the hazards of the life she had chosen...but David was not dead, he was alive, and that made the loss all that greater.

Mace suddenly felt a jab of pain and looked down, realizing with a sense of distance that she had cut her finger on one of the panes of glass. That broke the spell over her and, with a cry of rage, she threw the shards out the broken window. She felt the tears coming, swore that she wouldn't let herself cry, that she had to become as hard as she could.

Mace Daniels still had a job to do.

The whole situation had screamed "setup" to her, and she wanted to tell David that. The situation with Sung, the whole mess had started with a red herring that linked Mace and David together. Even if David didn't want to find out why, Mace was determined to, if only to pay back the person responsible...in a BIG way.

Mace collected herself and got dressed. Sleep would have to wait.

Lara watched David leave, hailing the first cab that came along and getting in. She hit the re-dial button and her mistress answered. "Yes?"

"Phase Two complete. David Connors was found with Mace Daniels and I am positive that I convinced David that I was the Lara Croft he knew," said Lara Croft 1.1, "and he is now leaving the scene quickly. Should I follow him?"

"Yes. We need to make sure that he doesn't try to contact the impostor at your home again. If he finds out that the Lara he knew is still out chasing the Dagger of Xian, he will suspect. We can't have that. Follow him, keep tabs on him, BUT DO NOT MAKE CONTACT OR BE SEEN. Lara Croft may not survive the quest for the Dagger, but I know all too well how capable she is. She has a better than average chance, considering that she is an enhanced clone."

"Mistress..." Lara 1.1 said slowly, "...if she is the clone, why am I called 'Lara 1.1'? Am I not the original?"

"You are, but she has taken your life, assuming the role of the woman you once were. When she is gone, you will be Lara 1.0 again...I only use those terms to make sure that I do not confuse you with her. That's correct, isn't it, Lara?"

A vague sense of certainty filled her and Lara 1.1 said, "I suppose so."

"Good. Watch David closely until my agents come to relieve you. Begin Phase Three."

"Yes, Mistress." Lara 1.1 dialed the house, summoning up her emotion. When Mannfred answered, she said, "Mannfred, I want you to listen to me very carefully. David Connors has betrayed me, in the worst way. Never again do I want to hear his name spoken or the subject of him mentioned in any way, shape or form!" Lara 1.1 sobbed. "Never!!"

"Yes, Lady Croft...but he seemed so..."

"Mannfred, unless you wish to find yourself unemployed, do not finish that sentence!"

Mannfred's gulp was audible even over the international connection. "Yes, Lady Croft."

"I will be coming home soon...I have some business to attend to in Italy. When I return, I will need some time to recover from this...so please leave me to myself until I do. Thank you." Lara 1.1 hung up and smiled. Now that clone will feel the loss I felt when she stole my life from me. Let her suffer, knowing that her lover and co-conspirator thinks she despises him.

With that in mind, Lara 1.1 continued to follow the cab to wherever it was taking David.

The real Lara Croft was at that point forty fathoms below the surface of the ocean, just off the coast of Italy. She had followed the path of a submarine down to the wreck of the Maria Doria, a ship that sunk off the coast while carrying a very important passenger, a relative of one of the Tibetan monks who had held onto an ornate golden Seraph to keep it safe. After checking out the areas of the ship with pockets of air, as well as other thugs sent down earlier by Bartolli, she knew that she was getting close to the Seraph that held the key to getting closer to the Dagger, and getting ahead of Bartolli. Lara may not have been an expert when it came to the Mafia, but she knew enough about Bartolli to dread the thought of letting the Dagger fall into HIS hands.

As an amusing twist of fate, Lara found herself enjoying herself despite the traps and pitfalls of the chase. She was glad to know that her time spent on the obstacle course was well spent, and a good thing, too. Compared to this, the Scions of Atlantis and the troubles she had finding them, not to mention defeating Natla and her thugs, was a late-afternoon walk in the fields compared to her present situation.

At least Natla had to hide behind a veneer of respectability. Bartolli seems completely unconcerned with hauling out the artillery. Lara smiled wickedly. As Dave might put it, "Bring it on, Marco." I love a good donnybrook...

With that thought to steel her, Lara went further into the depths of the sunken ship.

Mace had abandoned the idea of going to tell David her thoughts about what had happened. She knew David well enough to know that he was going get three things tonight; a place to stay, drunk, and into trouble. She sighed. Maybe a night in the drunk tank to dry out will help him get his head on straight. Mace wasn't too worried about David...she was just concerned that David might attract the wrong kind of attention from some of the people HE used to worry.

Like the Mob.

I can't worry about that now. David's a big boy, he can look after himself. He's done pretty well so far. I'm just going to have to let him be...for now.

She stopped her bike and looked up at the neon sign over the nightclub. It read "CLEOPATRA'S," but the "C" had burned out and it was unlikely that it'd be fixed anytime soon, since it went out more than a year ago. The nightclub was little more than a strip club made over in an Egyptian motif, with a dance floor as a presumption of approaching legit business status. Nobody danced there except nude, nubile women made up to look like Egyptian princesses and queens...and badly done at that.

Mace relaxed. Here, she felt more comfortable.

As soon as she walked up to the door, the bouncer gave her a very SHORT once-over and stepped aside. The bouncer was large, beefy and had his nose broken twice, so he was the perfect type to ward off any troublemakers. Mace didn't even give him a look. After all, she was the one who'd broken his nose both times he tried to keep her out.

The smoke gave the place a hazy atmosphere that did nothing to highlight the decor. Once, the decor was considered intriguing and exciting, lending more of an exotic air to the place and enhancing the skills and beauty of the dancers. Not anymore, though. The establishment had not been refurbished since the day it opened, despite the money it took in over the first year. Mace wasn't surprised to hear that; she knew the owner, Kylie, and also knew that half the profits probably went right up Kylie's nostrils.

But for a half-brained crackhead, Kylie still knew how to use what few brain cells were still alive and managed to keep turning a profit and paying the girls reasonably well. It was that resourcefulness that Mace needed tonight.

She walked past the bar and went straight up to the stairs leading up to Kylie's office. Two men barred her way. The bartender, George, looked up just in time to see Mace confront the two men.

"Aw, NO, Mace! Kylie just hired 'em!"

"Shut up and mix your drinks, old man!" the guard on the left yelled. He turned to Mace. "Unless you're making an audition, girl, you'd better turn your tits the other way and follow them right outta here before somethin' BAD happens."

"George?" Mace called back sweetly. "Could you do me a favor? Call Kylie and tell her Mace will be right up...after she entertains these two." She smiled seductively. "Maybe I can audition for you two first?"

"Yeah..." the thug on the right grinned. "Do it nice, baby."

Mace smiled and slid her jacket off slowly, letting the leather caress her bare arms as she let it slip to the floor. She tilted her head back, letting her hands move up her sides and across her breasts to rest around her neck. She began to sway her hips sensuously, looking up at the hoods with half-lidded eyes. Both of the guards were drinking her in with their eyes, riveted to the sight of Mace making love to herself with her hands.

The two women performing on stage saw that some of their audience were starting to watch Mace instead of them and began to dance more provocatively, putting their fatigue aside in the face of losing some of their tips.

Mace let her hands move slowly down her front, closing her eyes and letting her mouth fall open slightly as her hands moved between her legs, lingering there to make sure she had the guards' full attention, then moved them down her inner thighs as she squatted and spread her legs wide open. Mace made a low moan in her throat as she rose, swaying from side to side like a snake slithering up into the air.

When she could see that the guards' blood had drained from their faces, she let her hands rise past her head into the air, smiling as she saw the thugs watch her hands, mesmerized completely by their own lusts, and that's when Mace let fly with a devastating kick into the crotch of the thug on the left with the toe of her boot. The thug's face went from semi-orgasmic to contorted in pain unlike any he'd ever dreamt possible. His buddy was so taken by the show, he never realized what happened to his friend until he joined him on the floor, for the exact same reason.

Mace shrugged off her seductive manner like she shrugged off the leather jacket she now retrieved, and George was shaking his head. "Dammit, Mace, this shit's getting old!"

Mace didn't answer, walking up the stairs as the eyes in the bar went right back to the women performing on stage, some of the men cringing.

Kylie was busy testing out her latest fix on her "personal assistant," a woman named Veronica who showed up and did Kylie's menial work just so that Kylie could give her a snort of cocaine every so often. Kylie had just gotten in a new shipment of a new designer drug named Black Lace and was checking out its effects when Mace kicked the door down, sending Veronica to the floor in a glazed stupor and Kylie running for the gun in her desk. Mace got to Kylie first, pulling the diminutive Chinese woman to her feet by her wrists. "Hiya, Kylie. Long time no see."

"Not long enough!" Kylie spat. "Get outta here! ARTHUR!! T-BONE!!"

"They're a little preoccupied at the moment. But enough about them." She threw Kylie into a seat on the sofa and walked up to her. "Let's talk about you and me." Mace looked down at the powder on the desk. "Black Lace? No end to your bad habits, Kylie...but, that's not why I'm here. Who fingered me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Kylie whined, but her thin, five-foot-two frame was no match for Mace's tall, toned body and Kylie knew it.

"Let me spell it out for you, Kylie. Someone who knew that I was a friend of David Connors set him and me up to take a fall. The question is, who told them about us and the Sung case? Not too many people knew about our involvement on that case...except for maybe you. So spill it, Kylie. Talk or I'll..."

"You'll what? Kick my ass? Well, you do that and I'll drop a dime on you with some cops I'd know. They'd LOVE to put you through a strip-search." Kylie grinned evilly.

"Kylie, you disappoint me. I'd never lay a finger on you." Mace dropped Kylie and went to her desk, reaching under the lip. Kylie's eyes widened as she saw her hidden safe open behind a picture of David Bowie on the wall. Before she could even get up, Mace had opened the safe and pulled out a stack of bills and a key. She discarded the bills and held up the key. "Now, if the shipment of coke you left in that locker at Grand Central doesn't make it to the buyer, you won't need to worry about me messing up that innocent-looking face of yours. The Cubans...well, they're not as nice as I am. If you're lucky, they'll only peel you like an orange and leave you to die. They aren't the kind of people who'd accept a loss of a few million dollars with a shrug, are they?"

"YOU BITCH!!! GIMME BACK THAT KEY!" Kylie got up and tried to grab the key, but Mace held it out of reach.

"Tell me why you set me up, Kylie, and I'll give it back to you, and you can go kill off some more brain cells. Stall...and I can't make any guarantees for the poor little key's safety."

"Alright, alright!" Kylie yelled, defeated. Her hands dropped to the floor and she pushed against the floor to rise to her feet. "You're a real BITCH, you know that?"

"Yep...and don't you wish you were me? Now, let's hear it. ALL of it. And don't shit me, Kylie, or this key's going to go for a swim in the East River."

"Okay, okay, I give already...for starters, I didn't set you up."

"Bullshit, Kylie!"

"I swear, it wasn't me!!" Kylie's eyes widened as Mace went to the window. "But I know who did!!!"

Mace stopped. "I'm listening, Kylie."

"I hear some stuff out on the street that some guys gave Mr. Sung a trip to China, the whole nine yards. Said it was for a good cause. Anyway, I heard they were talking about David Connors and some girl named Laura."

"Lara. Lara Croft."

"I didn't hear anything about Croft, but yeah, it could've been Lara. Anyway, they kept referring to someone named 'the Mistress,' and kept mentioning something about 'more than one,' but I don't know more than that."

"Did you hear the conversation?"

"No, but Louise did. She told me all about it...just before she got shot in a drive-by."

"When did that happen?"

"The same night, about a week ago."

"Did anything strike you as odd about the whole thing?"

"No....wait, there was something. One of them mentioned this new company called, 'The Atlantic Company.' Whatever that means."

"It's a start." Mace tossed the key to Kylie, who reached for it the way a drowning man reaches for a life preserver. "If I find that you've crossed me, Kylie, I promise to come back when you're not expecting me and tie you down while your employees have their way with you. You might enjoy that, actually..." Mace said in a droll tone as she went back down the stairs.

As she left, Mace realized that she was going to need a little help.

Unfortunately, she knew just who to call.

Mark Donovan.

Mace knew where to find Donovan.

The warehouse had been made up into a large studio/residence, with a generous amount of space between shooting area and living space. Mark lived in the warehouse; he owned it. He liked working at home, where "I can go to bed after a hard day at the office without risking my life on the roads."

When Mace knocked, the light that said DO NOT DISTURB-PHOTO SHOOT IN PROGRESS was on. Ignoring it, she kept knocking, her knocking becoming a loud, staccato pounding on the door, which did not stop until the door opened and Mark Donovan looked out at her with angry eyes.

Mark Donovan himself wasn't much to look at. His brown hair was not always combed, and it was not strange to see him working with 'morning hair' from time to time. His eyes were a strange color of brown, but not bright enough to attract attention most of the time. He looked young for a man his age, and his figure was good, but he was hardly Mr. Universe, and his personality leaned towards sarcastic.

It was when he was pleased or angry when he was a sight to behold.

His eyes would almost seem to glow gold, and he had an almost animalistic kind of movement when he walked. In these conditions, he was as handsome as a Greek god, and if he was angry, that handsome face usually promised divine vengeance.

He wasn't angry enough to be handsome beyond words, but he seemed to be working on it. "Well, well, well...I shoulda known by that heavy-handed knock that a Mace was banging on the door. Mind coming back when you can read signs?"

"I need to talk to you," Mace said quietly.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Look, Mace, I thought I told you..."

"My friend is in trouble."

Mark looked at her for a long time. Then he sighed. "Come on in."

Mace followed Mark to the studio, where two bikini-clad models draped over an oversized Sony PlayStation looked up in irritation. "Mr. Donovan, I thought no one was going to disturb us..."

"Well, this is an emergency. We're going to have to wrap up the shoot now. Sony'll have to be satisfied with what we've got. Hey, where's Crash?"

"Right here," said an actor in a large Crash Bandicoot costume, in the direction of the bathroom. He was just stepping out of the small bathroom area, getting his costume back on.

"We'll have to tank it for the day. Think you gave me your best in the last 10 rolls?" Mark asked.

"Course I did."

"Right. Anyway, pack it up and haul it out of here. Something's come up."

Mark waved the three towards the dressing room, and the brunette slipped a note into Mark's pocket as they walked towards the freight elevator to the basement. Mark waited until after the three were gone before pulling out the note.

Mace had an idea of what was on the note, but she asked anyway. "What did she write?"

"Quote. 'I can suck a golf ball through a straw and tie a cherry stem with my tongue. Call me.'" Mark groaned and tossed the note in a waste-basket near the camera tripod.

Mace looked down. There were quite a few notes. "Models?"

"All the time," Mark answered sourly.

"That wastebasket must be the luckiest receptacle in New York..."

Mark gave her a baleful look. "Is this some kind of coded message? Because to me, it sounds a lot like, 'Please throw me out of the highest window you can find, Mark...'"

"All right, all right. Jeez, if I'd known you were going to get ugly when Alix got killed..."

"Mace, if you value your sex life, you're going to start telling me what kind of help you need and STOP telling me about my former wife. Get me?"

Mace leaned up against the giant game console. "Peace, Mark, I was just concerned."

"The pitch, Mace. Step on it."

"Have you ever heard of a man named David Connors?"

"Yeah. Wasn't he the guy on the Midtown Slasher case? I remember that you and he paired up on that. Also responsible for the prosecution against Nick Maas, but the evidence disappeared. Heard he lost his wife and kid, quit the force, became a detective, had a practice around here until he met Lara Croft, the (ahem) archaeologist, left his practice behind to do God-knows-what in England after he and Lara supposedly fought some monsters in the Metropolitan Museum here in New York. That David Connors?"

"That's the one."

"Well, what about him?"

"Well, he just got into some trouble with Lara and she broke up with him. BIG time."

"Why?" Mace reddened slightly and Mark understood. "Christ Jesus, you DIDN'T! Let me guess, she caught you two in flagrante dilecto." Mace's silence was confirmation enough. "Mace, do us all a favor. Invest in a vibrator or something!"

"That's not all."

"There's MORE? Geez, how much damage could you do???"

"That's not it at all." Mace told Mark about the strange circumstances surrounding David's arrival and the apparent foul play concerning Sung. "On top of that, Lara Croft was supposed to be in China or something. She couldn't have known where I was."

"You're in the book, aren't you?"

"Yes, but David said he never told Lara about me and she couldn't have known that he had come to stay at my office while working on a few things."

"I can only GUESS what things."

"It wasn't like that, Mark. I just saw him sleeping, some old feelings came back and I couldn't help myself."

"Sounded like this whole mess began when you DID help yourself."

"Dammit, Mark!! What are you, my father?? Are you going to help me out or bitch me out?"

"Do I have time enough to do both?"

"NO!"

"Then I guess I'll help you."

The sudden capitulation caught Mace flat-footed, but she recovered after a few moments. "Uhm...all right, then. What do we do?"

Mark looked at her. "Do you have any idea where to go next?"

"If I DID, I wouldn't be HERE, would I?" Mace shot back.

"Point taken. Okay. Let's put the pieces together. Lara caught you here in New York."

"Mark, come ON..."

"Are you going to help put the pieces together? Come on, it's all in the details! You're asking me to put together a puzzle where all the pieces are square, the least you can do is help me make sure we have as many pieces as we can get." Mark sat down on a studio chair. "Lara caught you here in New York."

"Yes," Mace said tiredly.

"Could Lara have known he was here?"

"Never," Mace said with finality.

"Never? That's a big word....sure you can back it up?"

"Well...the only one who could have told Lara was her servants, I think, but if she's in China..."

"Okay. She could have found out, but the chances were low. How long was David here in New York?"

Mace thought hard. "Not more than 48 hours."

"Could Lara have made it from wherever she was in China to here in that time?"

"I...don't know," Mace said, sounding distracted.

"Suppose that the thing that walks like a duck and quacks like a duck is actually a duck. There is a very LOW chance Lara could have gotten here from China and found you within 48 hours. So...either Lara lied about going to China, or the woman that showed up wasn't Lara."

Mace frowned. "She was Lara Croft."

"You sure? Did you get a good look at her? Twin 45s, impossibly tight butt, Dolly Parton's bust?"

"YES...well..." She thought for a moment. "I'm 99.9 percent sure."

Mark nodded. "Okay...is there ANYTHING else you can remember?"

Mace thought for a moment. "The Atlantic Company. I have it on good authority that whoever was involved was connected to that company."

Mark looked thoughtful. "I know a hacker friend who can get some good info on certain corporations." He picked up the phone and dialed.

Bob "Heloquin" Cagle was currently skimming through Microsoft's microsofts when Donovan called.

"Hey, there, what's up?"

"I want everything you can get, by hook or crook, on the Atlantic Company. One known outlet in New York, New York. Any underworld connections."

Bob nodded. "Want that today or tomorrow?"

"Yesterday."

Bob groaned. "You ask a lot, you know..." and hung up. He pushed his wheelchair towards another console and called up a couple of files.

"Now what?" Mace asked as Mark set down the receiver.

"The phone book. We're going to pay a call on the Atlantic Company. Or rather...I am. They may have already scoped your face out, so you'll be undercover of the night, as the old song goes." Mark grinned. "We have quite some time before nightfall and before we get the skinny on Atlantic, so get some sleep."

Lara 1.1 was doing some work on her own, but it wasn't the kind of work that her employer/creator would've approved.

She sat in the car across the street from a somewhat grungy bar populated by some bikers, a few regulars and one David Connors, currently drinking himself into a stupor. As she watched, Lara 1.1 started to partake of an activity her employer DEFINITELY wouldn't have approved; namely, she began to wonder.

She'd only been alive for little under a year, and through it all, she was taught to believe that this man had aided Lara in destroying the original Lara Croft and assisting her clone in assuming the original's place. But something kept nagging at her, parts that didn't fit. David wasn't acting much like the heartless conspirator that Lara 1.1 was told about, and the more she thought about this, the more other factors began to crop up. It was easier now, away from the woman that had caused her re-birth, to think about why her name was so strangely out of place, as if SHE was the clone and the woman they were trying to ruin was the original. But if that's the case, Lara 1.1 thought, how come I have so many memories? A clone wouldn't have memories of anything past the day she was decanted. And for that matter, if Lara 1.0 IS the clone, where did she get the desire to take my place? How long ago was she made and how was she able to fool my family for so long?

The thoughts were disturbing, threatening to shake the foundations of everything she knew to be real, yet she pursued them at a zealous pace. She had to know.

A buzz at her side alerted her to the phone in the car and she picked it up. "Yes?"

"This is Agent Four. We are homing in on your signal. Do you have the target in sight?"

Lara nodded. "Yes. He's in the McLaren Bar at Forty-second and Maurice. He's been drinking for some time...I estimate his blood-alcohol level to be far beyond legal limits for operating a motorized vehicle," she added.

"Noted. Will take caution."

The bartender, a matronly woman with a well-toned body covered by a T-shirt and knee-length skirt, said, "Mister, are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Shhure...wanna join me?" David said, alcohol roaring through his brain.

"No thanks. You're gonna need your stomach re-lined after drinking all that. Never seen you in here before."

David pushed the shot glass forward. "Again."

"Not a chance. You've had too much already. You keep this up and I'll need to completely re-stock by last call." She shook her head. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Cause no one elshe will let me do it to themmm..." David smiled through the fog of inebriation at his little joke.

"Come on...the last time I saw someone drink like that, it was over a woman. You got woman problems, mister?"

"Like you wouldn't believe..." He looked at the shot glass. It was empty again. "I had a girl...a real lady..."

The bartender reached forward and caught his head before it could make a dent in the bartop. "Mister...ah, hell." She looked up as the doors opened and four men entered, all wearing black suits.

"Excuse me, Madame, but is that man David Connors?"

"Who's asking, the Men In Black?" she countered.

"We're with the FBI and we need to take this man in. He's wanted on several crimes."

"Crimes of the heart, maybe. Let's see some ID," she said.

The speaker nodded, reaching into his coat and pulling out a strange-looking pistol, looking for all the world like some body parts thrown together to look like a gun. She dove for the floor as the man fired, sending a thin stream of fluid into the bottles behind the bar. Where the fluid hit, the glass cracked and melted.

The rest of the patrons dove for the floor and watched in fear as the other three men went over and dragged David from his chair to the Cadillac waiting outside. The leader looked around, looking for the bartender, but she was nowhere to be found. He turned and walked out to the car, getting in the driver's side door, while the patrons looked wildly out through the barred window.

The bartender slid out from under the lower lip of the bar, wiping some of the sticky liquids from her hands. Her clothes were ruined, but she didn't care. I swear, I gotta get a shotgun for this place! she thought.

Lara 1.1 watched the men leave and dialed their car quickly. The leader picked up the line. "Yes?"

"I just got a call from the Mistress. She wants David Connors delivered alive to her Caribbean office in Trinidad."

"We have orders to kill David Connors," the leader replied mechanically.

"She has decided that he is of better use alive, where she can use more of his DNA samples for her purposes. She has not been able to isolate the x-factor yet. Deliver him sedated and chained to the labs in Trinidad; I will instruct you further." Lara 1.1 hung up and breathed a sigh of relief, thanking her Mistress for making the servants subservient to her in the field. She drove away, heading for the airport. Lara 1.1 had some calls to make and the last thing she needed was to be seen anywhere except the airport. Now...maybe I'll get some answers, she thought as she drove, and then maybe I'll bloody well understand what's going on.

David awoke strapped to a table and having the mother of all hangovers.

He found that even motions as insignificant as turning his head brought on excruciating pain and he simply lay there, enduring the discomfort. As time passed, the pain ebbed away and he turned his head to look at his surroundings.

Everything was white, that he noticed right away. Even when his vision was hazy, he saw how stark and colorless his world was. As his eyes cleared, he began to pick out strange shapes, smooth objects very close to him. When his eyes cleared completely, he saw that he was in something very much like an operating room...on steroids.

Tubes ten feet high and three feet across took up all wall space save that what was needed for the door. Inside each of the thirty tubes was a figure, humanoid in nature but underdeveloped in some ways and overdeveloped in others. David felt his stomach turn over as he saw that many looked quite human, but had serious defects and deformities. But what bothered him most of all was that they were all male...and that some of them bore a disturbing resemblance to himself!

"What the hell..." David squeezed his eyes shut as his headache intensified. His mouth felt as if it was left out to fry in the Gobi Desert. He looked down to find himself securely strapped onto the table with thick leather restraints, the kind he recognized as those used for restraining prisoners or inmates at an asylum.

He heard a loud hissing noise and turned to see someone walk in, wearing hospital whites. David's eyes widened as he saw who it was. "Lara? LARA??"

The woman who walked in smiled and stepped to one side as someone else came in, a blonde woman in a wheelchair wearing a tailored dress-suit. David looked carefully at her, finding her face familiar. "Hey. Hey, you! Who are you and what am I doing here?"

Ignoring him, the blonde looked to Lara. "Why did you bring him here?"

"I knew that you were having trouble replicating the genes from the samples of David Connors, so I brought him in so you could get a fresher sample. I thought..."

The blonde wheeled herself forward to David's side. He stared hard at the face of the attractive woman next to him. "You look real familiar to me."

"I should. You helped Lara kill me once."

David's eyes widened. "No...no, it CAN'T be..."

"Oh, but it COULD...it could and it IS."

"I saw you incinerated. You couldn't possibly have survived!"

"Reports of my death, as Samuel Clemens once said, have been greatly exaggerated. Just as I planned." Jacqueline Natla smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, David Connors...you have no idea how much of a pleasure it is. Lara?"

"Yes, Mistress?" said Lara 1.1 as she ran to her side.

"'Mistress'?? What the hell is going on, Lara?"

"Tut, tut, Mr. Connors. I'm afraid that things are not what they seem to be. Lara, leave us. As it turns out, you were right...a fresher sample did produce better results. But I have some things to discuss with Mr. Connors."

Lara 1.1 nodded and left. When the door was closed, Jacqueline Natla turned back to David. "She really is quite perfect, isn't she? Right down to the fingerprints. Not bad, if I do say so myself."

"Who...or what is she?"

"A clone. A very special clone of Lara Croft. I call her Lara 1.1, for obvious reasons. I hate getting my slaves and my enemies confused."

"Now I remember...Lara told me about you once. She said that someone should've drowned you at birth."

"How kind of her to remember me after my 'death.'" Natla wheeled herself backwards a few paces. "I'll have to thank her...just before I dispose of her. Oh, I know what you're thinking, Mr. Connors. 'How?' That covers a great deal, and since you're not going to be leaving us anytime soon, I suppose it would be a shame to keep such a glorious plan secret."

"Lara was right."

"About what?"

"You ARE a smug, self-absorbed, delusional little bitch."

Natla's face hardened. "It would not be wise for you to act so impolitely to your host, David."

"My jailer. Let's abandon the false niceties, alright? Don't insult my intelligence."

"Very well. You're blunt, to be sure. As you guessed, I survived the fall of Atlantis, but there was grievous nerve damage to my spine, leaving me paralyzed from the waist down. I crawled out from under the rubble and summoned what minions I yet commanded to take me back to the nearest base where I could heal. As I lay there in the nutrient bath that healed my wounds, all I could think about was my new goal in life. At first, I had believed it to be nothing less than the stimulation of humankind, bringing them closer to their real potential, becoming their recreator and goddess."

"Gee, I guess Lara left out, 'humble'."

"Shut up, Mr. Connors. After what had happened, I realized that I had a different destiny, a different reason for being born and existing on this world." Natla turned to David and he saw an insatiable, crazy hatred burning in her eyes. "I had to destroy Lara Croft. Not just kill her, although that would've been satisfying enough. No, I had to RUIN her utterly. That was my goal, the reason why I did not die in Atlantis. So, I made my plans and came up with an idea. A glorious idea. I would take everything that Lara Croft held dear away from her until she was broken, decrepit and alone. Then, at the height of her despair, I would torture her to death." Natla sighed wistfully. "With that in mind, I went to work, dissolving Natla Technologies and taking over a sister company, renaming it the Atlantic Company, in honor of the place where Lara tried to kill me the first time. Then I started work on Lara 1.1 and..."

"Hold it. Just a second. How could you create a clone with the memories of Lara Croft? I find it a little hard to believe that she thinks she's the real Lara when she's only been around, what, a year? Less?"

"Of course you find it hard to believe. You have no access to the knowledge of Atlantis. After Lara escaped me just before heading to Atlantis a year ago, I took some blood samples from what dripped from Lara wounds and stored them for later use; someone so well endowed physically and mentally would've been useful. And they did...I reinforced the racial memory strains in her DNA and altered her memories through her DNA and conditioning to make her believe that she was the original Lara Croft and that someone had cloned her and instructed her to take her place. Then I created a clone of myself, as well as some of the more popular media personalities in New York, manipulating them as well. Then, since they were ultimately expendable, I speed-grew them all, giving my own clone the idea that it was the real Natla and an unabiding, irrational hatred of Lara Croft. Then I aimed them at her and, ultimately, you."

"The museum...it was all a fake designed to make Lara think that she'd killed you."

"Not really. It was a win-win situation. If the clone of Natla succeeded in killing Lara, she would've been out of my hair. The speed-grown clones would then deteriorate and die, leaving me to carry on. If the Natla-clone didn't succeed, which it didn't..."

"...Lara would think you were dead and put you into the past."

"You're not as dumb as I thought you were, David. Interesting. Well, with me 'dead,' I began to pursue how to get rid of her. Since you elected to stay with her a while, I had to get rid of you, too, although your death wasn't mandatory, since you really didn't try to kill me the first time."

"Gee, thanks," David said sarcastically.

Natla went on as if David hadn't said anything. "I used my new identity to help facilitate the recovery of the Scion, but before I could, it had been recovered by Nicholas Maas by one of his art smuggler friends. By the time Lara 1.1 got there, you and Lara had already visited the place, but left the Scion behind. Lara 1.1 recovered it and brought it back to me."

"What did you need them for?"

"The Scions are not mere baubles, David...when assembled, they are a supercomputer, a memory storage device, a sub-atomic catalyst and a power source of incredible power, all at the same time. One who knows how to operate and use the Scions can draw upon the power of a god, but those weak-willed wimps at Atlantis just wanted to use them for protecting other wimps and feeble-minded humans not worthy to lick our shoes. I had bigger plans for them. Unfortunately, Lara damaged the Scion beyond repair when she shot it, and the destruction of Atlantis certainly didn't help. But damaged as it was, it held just enough knowledge and power to create this. I hope you appreciate the kind of power that represents."

"Yeah...it takes a lot of effort and time to create those mistakes around this room."

Natla looked around disapprovingly. "You know what they are, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think I know. Clones of me...although they don't look much like me, do they?"

"Yes, and it's your fault."

"Glad I could help. What did I do to make things tougher, might I ask?"

"You were born from inferior stock. The DNA strands of Lara Croft were of high quality, pure bloodlines and healthy living made that certain. But YOU...if you were a canine, you'd be a mutt."

"Bow. Wow," David said snidely.

"Your DNA was flawed in many areas, and I was unable to determine your origins. Attempts to clone you resulted in these...errors. They were all interesting men, too."

"What?? I thought you cloned from scratch. What did you need other men for?"

"Well, David, Lara 1.1 wasn't created 'from scratch,' as you call it. She is the result of a brand-new creation I call a 'genovirus.' It takes an existing bioform and rewrites the DNA of the host to conform to the DNA code programmed into it. That's how I created Lara 1.1...I found a woman who fit the general body mass and DNA compatibility, took her to the lab and injected her with the genovirus. Within days, she was re-made and reprogrammed into Lara's exact duplicate."

"Not exact," David said firmly.

Natla stopped, then looked at David. "Really? So tell me, Mr. Connors...what was the mistake?"

"When your Lara shot at me back at Mace Daniel's apartment, she was holding her gun in her LEFT hand. Lara's RIGHT-handed. She only uses her left hand when she's using both hands to shoot at someone."

Natla frowned. "Hmmmm...an insignificant detail. Not all are as perceptive as you are, David."

You keep thinking that, David thought. Mace Daniels may be a rookie, but she's not stupid. She saw...and once she puts two and two together...

"In any case, I tried to do the same thing with you. However, there is some x-factor in your DNA that I cannot identify, something that mutates the genovirus into creating faulty clones. I could've isolated that particular gene, but not without the Scion's full memory...and that part was lost when Lara shot the Scion."

"Gee, that's a shame."

"However..." Natla smiled. "After so many tries and errors, I believe that I have come out with a suitable clone." She touched a button on her wheelchair and a door opened on the other side of the room, one of the tubes sliding upwards to allow entry. David's eyes went wide as he saw himself, dressed in a bodysuit, walk in the door. "What do you think, David? What is your opinion of David 1.1?"

David looked at the clone. David 1.1 looked at David, walking over and touching his forehead, then his lips, then his chest. David 1.1 looked up at Natla, who was smiling proudly.

"Him funny looking. Make faces. Have cookie now?" David 1.1 said.

Natla's smile disappeared, reappearing on David's face. "Congratulations, Natla. You did pretty good. So, what are you and Rain Man going to do next? Parlor tricks?"

Natla looked at David 1.1 with distaste. "Damn. Imperfect."

"No fooling. He won't fool Lara Croft in the least."

"Oh yes he will," said Natla with a renewed gleam in her eye. "He'll just have to speak to Lara by phone. Say what I taught you, David 1.1."

The clone nodded, saying in a bolder voice, "Lara, this isn't working out at all. I can't see you anymore. You see...there's someone else, someone I really love. I thought I loved you, but now...it was just an unwillingness to be alone. I'm sorry, Lara, but I have to say goodbye. It wasn't working out and we both know it. I hope you'll find someone else." He looked at David, whose smile had now vanished. "Pretty good, Mistress? Davey have cookie now?"

"Yes. dear boy, I believe you've earned it. Go get a cookie from Maude."

"Yay!!" said David 1.1, jumping up and down and clapping his hands. He waved to her, then turned away and went back through the door he'd come through.

Natla looked at David. "Still think Lara will see through it?"

"I thought it took days for the genovirus to work!"

"You've BEEN here for days. Five of them, actually. Plenty of time to create David 1.1 and teach him what needed to be said. Or actually, what will be said."

David looked at Jacqueline Natla in utter horror.

Lara dropped the phone. Her mind had gone completely numb from shock. She had come home in triumph after rescuing the Dagger of Xian, ready to tell David that she'd been thinking about them both, and that maybe she was ready for a deeper commitment. Now, sitting there on her bed, crying as if she would never stop, her entire soul felt crushed, beaten.

What happened....? What did I do to drive him away? What went so wrong??? She couldn't believe David's words, but they came through very clear...all TOO clear. She wanted to die, wish she had died, anything to stop the pain in her broken heart.

Then she heard the alarms go off and realized that someone had invaded the house.

Her shame and grief turned to rage, rage at the world for allowing this to happen to her. As she ran for the cabinet where she kept her guns, heedless of the fact that she was wearing only her nightclothes, she thought angrily, Whoever those bastards are...THEY PICKED THE WRONG NIGHT TO BREAK INTO MY HOME!!!

She grabbed her shotgun and loaded it, hearing footsteps coming closer...

FIVE DAYS EARLIER

Mace's dreams were bad.

She kept seeing Lara in her mind's eye, raising hand to point at her accusingly, then the hand would become a Colt .45 and opening fire. The bullets seemed to perforate an opaque barrier between Lara and Mace, then the hard thuds of bullet impact would drown out everything and she would wake up, moaning softly.

The third time she woke up, it was 8 p.m. and she felt no need to return to the nightmare. She looked around and saw Mark Donovan looking into the screen of his computer, frowning in its reflection. She got up, walking quietly over to Mark. When she got within 50 feet of him, he said without turning around, "Hello, Mace."

Mace slumped. "Damn...how do you do that?"

"I'd tell you, but you'd never believe me," Mark said simply.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, finding a chair near the table and pulling it over to the desk.

"Some stuff Heloquin sent me on the Atlantic Company," Mark replied.

"Anything useful?" Mace asked, trying to read the small print.

"Well, let me give you a rundown. Atlantic didn't exist two years ago, first of all."

Mace's left eyebrow rose. "What, it's a new company?"

"Yes...and no. Atlantic seems to be a legitimate bioengineering firm, run by 9 major stockholders. Deal mostly in pollution control, creating hardier strains of wheat and rice, clean-air, clean-world stuff. Good rep, their stock is bearish in the Exchange...all the earmarks of a successful company."

Mace picked up on Mark's tone. "You said, 'seems to be.'"

Mark nodded. "Heloquin did a little digging, got deeper into the company. He was able to get a list of the stockholders, run them through a few databases, and came up with something."

"Criminal records?" Mace asked hopefully.

"Not really. Their social security numbers are all consecutive."

"Numbers don't mean anything, Mark..."

"RANDOM numbers, yes. These aren't random." Mark tapped the screen. "The only way they could be this way is if these people didn't exist, or if they simply are posing as legit owners. For all we know, someone owns it all."

"But who?"

"I've been checking that, too. Helo's been very thorough here. He tracked down all the resources this company purchased when it started, and through exhaustive work, he's identified a large percentage of it came from just one company. Natla Technologies."

Mace asked curiously. "How much of a percentage?"

"Ninety-four percent." Mark smiled. "Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss."

"So Atlantic is actually Natla?"

"Seems funny, doesn't it? Especially when Natla is an anagram of Atlan."

Mace's frown deepened. "She died, didn't she?"

"The Natla woman? Yes, she did, but...somehow, I don't know." Mark tapped the photo of Natla, which was not onscreen. "She's the link, alive or dead."

Mace shook her head. "This is getting deep."

"So we go deep. I'm going to find out a little bit more about the Atlantic Company tonight."

"How?"

"I'm going to break in. Tonight."

Mace STARED at him. "You're insane."

"Like a fox. How are you with computers?"

"I do all right."

"Good. I'm going to bring in one of Heloquin's Little Wonders. We are going to get some info, as much as we can, from Atlantic's Manhattan complex. You are going to be stationed in the getaway vehicle, which is going to have a download point installed. The Little Wonder is a portable satellite modem, and anything I can raise on the computers in the complex will be downloaded to Heloquin's workstation and he will earmark anything that looks important enough to follow up on. In the meantime, I'll be going through the complex, picking up what I can."

Mace kept staring at him. She finally managed, "I thought you had retired from this line of work."

"I'm semi-retired." Mark picked up a small box. "Get dressed. We are taking the 'Vette."

Ten minutes later, Mace said, "When you said you had a 'Vette, I thought you meant a CORvette, not a CHEvette."

"Hey, it's a dependable car," Mark said defensively as they drove through the streets of Manhattan. "Heloquin marked down a spot on the map, a good place for parking. Where is it?"

"North side. Under a treeline." Mace tested the headset Mark had given her with a tap on the throat microphone, then said, "Do you enjoy this kind of thing?"

Mark smiled at her. "Like playing an exhibition game for me."

Mace found herself drawing away from him, and not really knowing why.

They did not speak again until they arrived at the point behind the fence.

Mark shut off the engine, then said, "If you see any green lights on the box in the rear seat, that means it's downloading. If you see red lights, it means I'm not."

"And what happens if the lights are dark?"

Mark smiled. "That means I'm dead, and you had best hightail it out of here. Any other questions?"

Mace snorted, "Yeah. What in the world screwed you up like this?"

"Langley."

And then he was off, heading for the fence.

Mace shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

Mark knew the fence was electrified. He could hear the humming of the wires.

But that was easy to circumvent.

He took a running leap, his hands and feet digging into the fence. Electricity usually traveled through the shortest path it could. Since Mark was not touching the ground, the electricity found Mark's body too long a path to travel, staying in the wires. Thick rubber gloves and rubberized shoes helped, as well.

Five minutes later, Mark jumped off the fence and landed quietly on the ground, making for a small copse of trees halfway between the complex and the fence.

He was halfway between the trees and the building when he heard it, a fast sound of quick claws on pavement, little pants of effort, and then a large German Shepherd rounded the corner and came straight at him.

Ten years ago, he had been with a group of other trainees at a 'confidence course' in Langley Virginia, in a place some called The Pickle Factory. The lieutenant in charge of the lesson was detailing possible threats around military compounds Mark or his classmates might be expected to penetrate. The guard dog was high up on the threat level because they did not have the distractions humans had. Sex, money, power, compassion, doubt, none of that would ever induce a guard dog to slow its attack once it got started. It would spring at you, knocking you down with it on top of you, tearing at your arm, your throat, or your face. And when it was done with you, it would call for attention, as loud as it could.

But...there was a catch.

One it jumped for you, it has about as much braking power as a big rig on a mountain slope doing 70 mph. In short, NONE.

Mark waited until the dog was in the air before he acted. He grabbed both forelegs, pivoted, then swung the dog in an arc around him, throwing the animal at the trees, the animal turning and writhing in midair. All movement ceased when the dog's back struck one thick trunk, the body wrapping around it like a length of chain...except that lengths of chain don't snap on impact. The dog dropped to the ground, dead of a broken back.

Mark was moving again. With a vicious thing like that on the grounds, it wasn't likely people were going to be too careful or watchful.

Mark made his way inside through a secured door after dodging the camera just inside. From there, he moved slowly through the outer hall, trying to find a passageway deeper into the complex. What he was looking for would be in the belly of the beast.

When he found a quiet office, he tested the commlink. "Mace?"

"Still here," said a tinny voice from the hearing-aid receiver.

"How's it looking out there?"

"Nothing changed. Still quiet as death out here."

"You're fun on a black op," Mark said quietly.

"I get it from you." Click.

Mark smiled, then spotted a hermetically-sealed door and examined the keypad. Above the pad was a blinking red light.

Mark figured it was a proximity-pass system, linked to credit-card-sized wafers that held data involving what areas the holder was and was not allowed to enter. The problem was circumventing it.

He opened the Little Wonder and typed out on the small keypad, HELL.

The tiny LCD monitor flared to life, the words, "HELL HERE" on the screen.

PROX PASS, he typed.

The screen blinked, then said, "LET ME SCAN."

Mark held the small screen up to the keypad on the wall. The light began to flash faster, then flashed green. A quiet 'CHUNK' came from the door, and Mark pushed it open. THANKS, he typed.

"ANYTIME."

Mark almost died when he entered the corridor.

He stepped inside, turned around to look down the corridor, and came face to face with a 3-foot-tall velociraptor. It examined him closely, then apparently thought he was good to eat and sprang at him. Mark was almost caught lethally flat-footed; if he had not come to his senses in time and activate the spring-loaded dagger under his left arm, the tiny 'raptor would have torn out his throat. He drove the dagger through the reptile's eye, through the bone behind the eye, and deep into the thing's brain. It gave a sudden shudder and fell limp.

Mark pushed the thing off of him and looked down the corridor. Empty, so far...but now he had to come to grips with the fact that whatever they were doing in Atlantic, tough wheat was a misleading glimpse of what the company bio-engineered.

"Welcome to Jurassic Fragging Park, Mark Donovan. Count yourself lucky to be alive," he whispered, and ducked into the nearest door down the corridor.

He caught the guard off-guard, knocking him down with a powerful punch into the man's solar plexus and wrapping his face, hands, and legs with duct tape. After stuffing the guard under the desk, he took a quick inventory of the guard station. He was pleased to find a Scorpion MP5 submachine gun with laser scope and a cylindrical silencer/flash suppressor, a weapon good to supplement his own sidearm, a powerful .50-Magnum Desert Eagle with a heavy silencer of Company design.

As he was checking out the documentation for the guard, a booklet caught his eye. He opened it and read the title.

"Bioform Identification And Handling..." he read, eyes wide. If he hadn't seen the creature on page 11 nearly rip out his throat, he would have thought it a work of fiction. Things that looked like jungle cats without fur or skin, bipedal monsters with taloned paws for hands, small bats with teeth that dripped poison...it was a horrorshow of genetic mastery, an Animal Kingdom designed by Josef Mengele.

He went out the door and down the hall, armed for bear...or the nearest genetic equivalent.

Mace straightened when the box near her flashed a message.

SILENT ALARM ENGAGED-COMPLEX ONLY. NO POLICE SUMMONED.

She looked at the building beyond the gate. No police? If they knew Mark was in there, did they think what they had was enough to stop him?

"Mark? Are you there?" she whispered.

"Yes. I'm inside one of the labs," came a tinny squawk from the earpiece.

"The alarms have gone off. No police have been called," she said in a low voice.

"I figured. I don't think they went to show the police any of what's in here."

"What...what's in there?" she asked, curious in spite of herself.

"Before I tell you, I have to ask...do you want to get a good night's sleep before the year 2000?"

She winced. "Yes," she managed.

"Then don't ask."

She swallowed, then heard what sounded like a staccato coughing.

"What was that?"

"I had to shoot something...and if you ask, all I can say is that it has 9 limbs..."

Mace quickly cut the connection.

Mark stepped over the monster, pushing his way into one of the labs. He found a computer console and a technician in front of it. The tech looked up at him, then said, "Please don't shoot me."

Mark looked past the tech's face to the computer. On the screen, it showed a window which said:

DO YOU WANT TO CONFIRM LANWIDE FORMAT?

(Y/N)

The tech's hand was moving towards the Y key.

Mark shot him where he sat, the finger reflexively stabbing a key...but the U key, not the Y key. Mark pushed the body out of the way, hit the N key, then connected the Little Wonder to the parallel port in the back of the computer. Then he opened the Little Wonder and typed HELL.

"HELL HERE."

Mark typed DLOAD, then READY?

"HIT ME," said the screen.

Mark pushed a button and the screen blanked, showing a progress bar.

"DLOAD = 00:10:00" flashed, then the counter started counting down.

"Mace? Started download. All other computers locked out, I think," Mark whispered.

"No guards visible," came the reply.

"That's because they know the trouble's inside. Give me 20 minutes."

"Do you need help?" Mace asked, concerned.

"I'm beyond help, but thanks for asking."

Mace snarled, "You're a bastard, do you know that?"

A pause, then the reply came back, "Yes, I know it well. Gotta cut the connection, no sense having them trace these little chats. See you out-side." Click.

Mace leaned back, then started the car, on impulse.

She was taking no chances.

The download still had five minutes to go when the first wave came in. They apparently had sent the monsters in first, by the sound of it. Mark pulled back the bolt of the Scorpion, tried to gauge the position, and then the door blew in, the reptilian monstrosities coming at him in a haphazard wave. He fired quickly, restricting the fire to short bursts in-stead of a line of suppressive fire, picking his targets. Most fell quickly, but three still got within ten feet of him.

Those three found the crude Bouncing Betty Mark had fashioned out of laboratory materials. Mark ducked before the explosion could cut him amid-ships, hiding behind a table. When he got up, every creature in the room was either dead or too involved in dying to think about him. He looked to the computer, then slid two more of the innocent-looking bowls out into the hallway, waiting patiently behind the table. He checked his ammo, then the computer.

One explosion made the room shudder, then two. Mark smiled. That should take care of...

The thing with nine limbs lumbered into the room, looking wounded and seriously hacked off at Mark for wounding him.

Inactivity would have killed him, so he lunged over the table, aiming the large handgun at the behemoth and squeezing the trigger twice, shooting the thing's eyes out of its head. The third shot made the back of the thing's head swell like a mushroom, then sag like a deflated balloon.

Mark stopped over it, breathing deeply, then heard a loud BING!, like a microwave oven finishing up. He turned, went to the Little Wonder, then read it quietly.

"DLOAD COMPLETE."

Mark disconnected the little box, stuffed it in his jacket pocket, then checked the hallway. It was messy beyond words, but no one was around. He checked his weapons one last time, then threw a small black square down the hall and ducked back into the room.

The resulting flash brought screams of dismay, so Mark turned out to be correct about the possibility of an ambush. He took a chance and bolted down the hall towards the squad positioned there, rushing past them and straight for the inner door back to the general-population area.

Mace tested the gas pedal, then the brake pedal. Both still worked for the 15^th time.

She was wondering about trying to call Mark again when the front door exploded off of its hinges. "Damn," she muttered, putting the car into neutral and her foot on the gas pedal.

Mark ran out the front door, firing the Scorpion in a wide arc. He dropped the gun as he jumped for the fence, throwing his coat over the razor wire at the top and rolling over the coat, yanking it down as he landed on the grass at the opposite side. He ran to the car, jumping inside, and said in a pleasant voice, "Waiting for anyone else, hon?"

She got the message, slipping the car into gear and gunning the engine. The Chevette pulled out in a spray of gravel, heading onto the main road and away from the Atlantic Company.

One guard reached for the hotline phone in the guard station. His boss was not going to like...

He stopped, gazing at a package on the counter. It was a large wrapped package, with a disc on the front of it. The writing on the front of the box said TEN POUNDS OF BOOM!!!

He yelled, "BOOOOMMMB!" and bolted from the office.

Mark kept looking back, frowning.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Mace asked, not taking her eyes from the road.

"I'm waiting for something."

"What are you..."

Then an awful white light filled the rearview mirror. Mace saw it and braced herself, knowing what would happen next.

The car shook with the loud, resonant bbbbRRRRROOOOMMMMMMMM! as the complex exploded, killing anyone still inside and anyone in the general area. The flames could be seen from five blocks away.

Mark sat down, looking satisfied.

"Mind if I ask why you did that?" Mace asked him.

"No."

Mace waited, then growled, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"

"Because they were making enough genetic boogeymen to terrify every child in the United States...call it trash-burning." Mark held up the small box. "I just hope Heloquin can tag what we need."

Mace was silent all the way back to Mark's warehouse.

The servant thought Natla took the news rather well. Besides, she could afford to replace the phone she embedded in the wall (she had superior upper-body strength, even in her condition) and the one she had talked to would still survive the experience. Otherwise...

Three guards dead, 12 researchers dead, and scores of genetic constructs in various states of gestation and development. The good news (such as it was) was that they were present for such a short time. They could not remove very much information in such time...

But even that was puzzling.

Natla looked to her assistant and said in a low voice, "I do not believe in coincidence. What is the report on the one named Mace?"

The stiff woman checked a printout. "Two men are tailing her. They say she went to some photographer's place in Manhattan. They lost them in a traffic jam 20 minutes before the complex attack, and they returned roughly...two hours after it happened."

Natla looked up. "A photographer?"

"Yes. Apparently they had some kind of stormy affair after his wife died."

She frowned. "I want a dossier on this photographer."

The assistant pulled out the dossier she had on the table next to her. "I took the liberty, mistress."

Natla smiled, pleased that her servants were reasonably intelligent. "You've now justified your obscene paycheck." She opened the file, reading through it carefully. When she looked up, she was frowning. "What is this Department of Defense seal on his military records?"

"Our resident hackers in New York are working on it," the assistant said quickly. "They still haven't found anything on his wife, Alixandra, either. It is as if she appeared out of nowhere."

"Department of Defense..." she muttered, then examined the file closely.

"Have those two picked up, just in case."

"Yes, Mistress."

Natla sat back in her wheelchair and considered. "While you're at it, bring up anything you can on Mark Donovan's known acquaintances. People he works with on a regular or irregular basis. Flag any with dossiers that look even REMOTELY suspicious or shady."

"Yes, Mistress."

A man with a seal on records pertaining to the military...this man is getting to be more trouble than David Connors ever was, and I've only just heard about him. She wheeled herself to a console and tapped a button. "Report."

"The progress on the OMA is almost complete. Cellular structure appears stable even through stimulated metamorphosis. Full biological weapon apparati are implanted and ready. Estimated time of completion: nineteen hours, less if we can easily bypass any possibility of cellular rejection."

"Good. I may need it sooner than I expected. Natla, out."

Mark's phone rang, jolting him out of sleep and bringing him to full alertness instantly. He grabbed the phone receiver and picked it up. "What?"

"And good evening to you too, kind sir," Bob said casually.

"What've you got for me?" Mark demanded.

"We are talking deep BLACK stuff here, choomba. This stuff is so vile, I'm cleaning out my home as we speak and moving to another location."

"I thought when I blew the computers..."

"For Christ's SAKE, Mark, not over an open line!!"

"Sorry...still waking up." Mark clapped a scrambler over the receiver.

"Better?"

"Much. Alright, Mark, listen close, because no matter how good our scanners might be, this still might be a party line. I'm not going to repeat anything. First off, Jacqueline Natla is ALIVE. Second, she's got hold of an object known as the Scion of Atlantis, properties and capabilities unknown, but the Scion is mentioned HEAVILY in her communiqués. Third, she's been working on a whole slew of biological weapons..."

"I think I've met a few of them."

"Don't interrupt. They could be breaking down my door any second. These things are seriously nasty, and she's breeding them all over the place. Peru, Trinidad, Moscow, China, Africa, Australia, the United States...she's got a plant in just about every major country and continent, all breeding these nasty little fraggers. They're all connected to something called:

Project Tsunami. Get out of there, Mark. Take your friend and get the hell out of there NOW. Contact me at the Hole."

"Got it."

"Be careful, Mark. If Natla finds out what you were up to a few years back, there's not going to be enough left of you to fill a contact lens holder. Move it. Heloquin out."

"Damn!" Mark put the phone down. "Mace?"

"Don't tell me. 'Get packed,' right?"

"How'dja guess?"

"You've got that look, Mark." Mace grabbed a pack and stuffed some clothes into it. "So, hon, where are we going?"

"Depends. You got a passport?"

"I've got four, why?"

"We're going to take a little trip to London...by way of Peru."

"And that's where we lost them, Mistress...they left Mark Donovan's home, withdrew a large amount of money from Donovan's account and left New York. Where they are going is unknown, but we do know that he is heading west."

Natla sighed. "Then we do not know for sure WHERE he is heading yet."

The servant looked up at Natla, blinking. "I don't understand."

"I just finished the completed file on our Mr. Mark Donovan." She tossed down a file with a thick sheaf of papers spilling out over the desk on impact. "If I'd known this man existed, I would've either hired him or killed him much earlier. Let me tell you a bit about our Mr. Donovan. According to the information we liberated from the Black Vault in Langley, Virginia, this man is a veteran when it comes to doing the United States' Government's dirty laundry. Black bag operations, assassinations, high- as well as low-profile courier work, espionage, demolitions...he used to be one of their prime operatives, with the codename, 'Trickster,' due to his devilish sense of humor. That was a few years ago, and he resigned from the Agency to become a freelance photographer, no one but him knows why, exactly. He worked as such for three years, then, poof, he's gone, vanishes without a trace after following a lead to Alexandria, Louisiana. Everybody thinks he's dead until five years later, when, poof! He shows up in New York again, appearing from wherever it was that he left, not only alive, but with a wife named Alixandra Donovan who, I might add, didn't even exist until that day. Four years after that, his wife dies and he buries her in an undisclosed grave, returning to his work as a photographer. Since then, he has had dubious encounters with all kinds of people, including many with a strange individual who has met with him more than a few times driving an unregistered black Lamborghini Countach, who also seems to appear and disappear as if by magic." Natla held her head in one hand, massaging the temples. "Now do you see? There is only one reason why it appears that he is going west, and that is because he WANTS us to think that. This is a rare type of man, one that wouldn't even go to the restroom without some sort of plan. He planned to look as if he is heading somewhere, so we must be prepared to find him and Mace somewhere else. Also, I have found evidence that he has been in contact with a man known only as 'Heloquin,' and that this man may have discovered information about the Atlantic Company. Has this man been recovered?"

"No...when the agents went to his house, nothing was there, not even furniture. With the dust on the surfaces, that address has not been used for months."

"As I feared. Now we have to stop them all. Plunder Donovan's house, find out everything you can about him from what you find there. Also, send Lara 1.1 to Miami, just in case they try to leave the country. Give her orders to watch for them, but to continue concealing her existence from them. They must not know that she exists. Tell her that it is IMPERATIVE that she obey."

"So where are we going, Mark?"

"Chicago. It's the only secured line to Heloquin. Now that we've made a successful penetration, they'll be cracking down hard on communications."

Mace nodded, seeing the logic of the argument. "I have a clean-title vehicle, registered under another name. A REAL car, not that junk car YOU drive."

Mark smiled crookedly. "Whatever you say."

A half-hour later, they were on the street and heading south through Brooklyn.

Two trained agents broke through the skylight and rappelled into the wide area of Mark's living area. One of them spotted the giant PlayStation and frowned, peering at it, then said, "Whatever."

"Quiet..." his partner said.

"Why? Thermo showed no one was here, Triton. As long as we don't attract the police..."

"Still, be quiet." The one named Triton walked to the computer desk and started work on the computer's security, searching through every file to try and find if there was any clues to the whereabouts of Mace Daniels or Mark Donovan. His compatriot, Titus, moved around in a very careful, protracted search.

Triton was almost ready to give up when he found a file reference to ATLANTIC1.TXT. "Titus, I may have found something here..." he called out, then called up the file with a keypress of the ENTER key.

Unfortunately, he had the space of a second to realize that the ENTER key was made of metal, not plastic like the others.

The power supply, on a software command, transferred power from the computer itself into a thin cable leading from the heavy duty power supply into the bottom of the ENTER key. The chair Triton was sitting on was mostly metal, and the floor underneath was also where the water pipes led into the ground. The result was that electricity found an easier way to follow its traditional need to ground itself-namely, through Triton.

The force of 10 amps ran through his body and stopped his heart instantly. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Titus heard the quiet 'pop' and turned to see Triton slip to the floor. He ran over to him, checked his vital signs, then tried in vain to restart Triton's heart through CPR.

Titus had no way of knowing his run was noticed by anyone or anything. Nobody saw it, but something noticed his rapid progress. A relay clicked silently before Titus was halfway to Triton, sending a signal to six containers hidden in the walls, which dutifully flooded the entire studio with halon gas as the door and windows locked tight.

Titus died within seconds of Triton's demise.

Mark, as a rule, HATED uninvited guests.

Mark, who would not find out about the two bodies in his place until days later, was riding in a jet-black Toronado Classic, dozing lightly while Mace drove. They would reach Chicago in a few hours, and then she would finally meet this 'Heloquin' character Mark had spoken of.

Mark had told her a little of Heloquin. Heloquin had been a hotshot who thought it would be a fine idea to crack the defenses of CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He had hoped a ringer inside would help him ferret out some nice information. However, by the time the hacking run went down, Ames was in custody, and Donovan was knocking on Heloquin's door with a warrant, a shotgun, and a smile.

Donovan had given Heloquin a choice-go to work for the Company, or spend the rest of his mercifully short life dodging bull queers in the prison shower area. Heloquin, who had no desire to become the proud owner of a size-11 rectum, signed up. Heloquin was a bear, ravenous for information, and Donovan had given him many a choice meal, before and after his retirement. Heloquin was a fastidious sort, with his own rules and code, and Donovan respected his privacy.

"Heloquin likes his anonymity, so we set up a double-blind situation. We can contact him, but only through channels he decides are safe. He will always keep me posted on how to contact him, never the same way twice. That way, no one can trace him through me, and vice-versa. It's an ironclad firewall, because it never stays in one place. He's whip-smart, and animal-sly. He's probably the best there is, and he is loyal almost to a fault. If you don't trap him or serve him up to save your hide, he's the best friend a person could have."

"And if you do double-cross on him?"

Mark gave her a odd, sobering look. "Then the living shall envy the dead."

Mace didn't ask.

When they arrived at Chicago, Mark gave her directions to a place on the North Side, a small house which smacked of suburbia. It reeked of Wally and the Beaver, Mace thought.

"A nice young couple rents the place," Mark said. "They think I'm the custodian, come in to check out the place." He went upstairs, past the main bedroom, then stopped at a room which held a desk with a computer and a bed in the far corner. Mark closed the door, then hit the ENTER key.

The screen flared to life, a message typed onscreen. "YOU'RE LATE."

CAUGHT IN TRAFFIC, Mark typed.

"YOU'D BE LATE FOR YOUR OWN FUNERAL."

GOD, I HOPE SO. HEL, WHAT MORE CAN YOU GIVE ME ON ATLANTIC?

"STRONG STUFF YOU SENT ME. MIGHT AS WELL CALL ATLANTIS BY ITS OLD NAME, NATLA TECHNOLOGIES. AS JAGGER ONCE SAID, MEET THE NEW BOSS, SAME AS THE OLD BOSS. STILL INVOLVED IN BIOGENETIC/BIONETIC ADVANCES, TAILORED GENOMES, PERSONALIZED CREATURES. DABBLING IN THINGS LEFT BEST ALONE MIGHT AS WELL BE THEIR MISSION STATEMENT. I'VE GOT OODLES OF DATA, NONE OF IT GOOD. THIS STUFF IS WAY BEYOND ANYTHING I'VE EVER SEEN, AND I'VE SEEN GENETIC PROCESSES BEFORE. ALSO, NATLA IS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD, KILLED IN A FIREFIGHT WITH DAVID CONNORS AND LARA CROFT ALMOST A YEAR AGO...BUT SHE ISN'T. THE ORDERS COMING DOWN FROM ON HIGH MATCH HER KNOWN PSYCH PROFILE BY 92%. IF SHE'S NOT RUNNING IT, HER TWIN SISTER IS...IF SHE HAD ONE."

Mark groaned. DETAILS ABOUT CURRENT OPERATIONS, he typed.

"BE SPECIFIC. I HAVE 402 GIGABYTES OF INFORMATION TO SORT THROUGH."

HOLD ON. Mark turned to Mace, then turned back to the terminal. COULD ATLANTIC/NATLA CLONE A HUMAN BEING?

"Cloning?" Mace asked, puzzled.

"I've been going over what you said about her being there at the right time, how you immediately thought it was her, even though we both know that it would have been impossible for her to be there." Mark waited for Heloquin to digest the question. "Maybe it wasn't Lara..."

"POSSIBILITY 100%, BUT WHETHER OR NOT SHE HAS PERFECTED THE PROCESS IS UNKNOWN. CURRENT TECHNOLOGY UNABLE TO DESIGN A VIABLE CLONE FROM UNIVERSAL POPULATION. DRAWBACKS INCLUDE MENTAL RETARDATION, INABILITY TO HANDLE NORMAL FOOD, DISASSOCIATION SYNDROME, GENETIC ANOMALIES, SOCIOPATHY, PSYCHOPATHY, PATHOLOGICAL PSYCHOSES...IN SHORT, YOU CAN CLONE LOWER ANIMALS, BUT ANIMALS WITH HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS-LIKE HOMO SAPIENS- CANNOT DUPLICATE THEMSELVES WITHOUT CREATING INFERIOR COPIES. NATLA MAY HAVE PERFECTED MANY OF THE PROCESSES, BUT UNTIL SHE UNSEATS GOD HIMSELF FROM HIS THRONE, SHE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO *PERFECTLY* CLONE SOMEONE."

Mark frowned. WHAT WOULD BE OPTIMUM CONDITIONS FOR CLONING OF HOMO SAPIENS?

A pause. "GENETIC ENGINEERING IS NOT MY FORTE, BUT IT SEEMS THAT THE CHANCES FOR SUCCESS INCREASE WITH A SUBJECT WITH A GENOME THAT COULD HAVE GREATER STABILITY. MIXING GENES WITH MANY GENOTYPES TENDS TO CREATE A 'CHAOS FACTOR.' EVER STUDY CHAOS THEORY? NEVER MIND, I'LL EXPLAIN. WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU BUILD A SUSPENSION BRIDGE WITH LOOSE WIRES, A BAD FOUNDATION, AND IMPROPER TIGHTENING OF BOLTS AND RIVETS? ANSWER: A BRIDGE NOT WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN IRON, BUT FLEXIBLE. NOW, TIGHTEN THE BOLTS, TIGHTEN THE WIRES AND HARDEN OR THICKEN THE FOUNDATION. WHAT DO YOU GET? A MORE STABLE BRIDGE, BUT LESS FLEXIBLE. SO FAR, SO GOOD. BUT TIGHTEN THINGS UP SO TIGHT THAT THERE IS NO GIVE OR TAKE AT ALL, AND THE BRIDGE BECOMES SO ORDERED THAT THE COURSE OF RANDOM EVENTS CAN BREAK IT DOWN. ALL CONSTRUCTS HAVE TO HAVE SOME LEVEL OF GIVE, A SMALL AMOUNT OF CHAOS. TOO MUCH ORDER CAN LEAD TO A BREAKDOWN OF THE SYSTEM, JUST AS MUCH AS TOO MUCH CHAOS. LIKE WINDING A WATCH SPRING TOO TIGHT, IT CAN BREAK."

SO? Mark typed.

"SAME WAY WITH THE GENETIC STRUCTURE. EXCESSIVE BREEDING WITH OTHER GENOTYPES LEADS TO A GENOME THAT HOLDS TOGETHER ON ITS OWN, BUT CANNOT BE ARTIFICIALLY COPIED ACCURATELY WITHOUT SERIOUS MENTAL OR PHYSICAL PROBLEMS. SINCE A CLONE IS NOT BASED UPON TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT GENETIC CODES, LIKE THE NATURAL PROCESS OF HAVING BABIES, BUT ON A COPY OF ITSELF, EXCESSIVE *INBREEDING* LEADS TO A GENOME THAT IS, QUITE LITERALLY, STALE. IT TENDS TO FALL APART IF CLONED. A GENOME BEST FOR CLONING HAS A LOT OF ORDER, BUT A LITTLE CHAOS, TO MAKE IT DURABLE AND FLEXIBLE."

Mark's head was beginning to hurt. WHERE CAN ATLANTIC/NATLA DO THIS RIGHT NOW?

A long pause. "THEY HAVE A FACILITY IN THE CARRIBEAN ISLAND OF TRINIDAD. BASED ON THE AVAILABLE INFORMATION, IF THEY CAN DO IT ANYWHERE, THEY DID IT THERE."

Mark looked to the screen in admiration, then typed, SEND ME A FILE ON THE TRINIDAD SITE ONLY. I'LL PRINT IT UP.

"WATCH YOURSELF. THESE PEOPLE PLAY FOR KEEPS."

SO DO I. Mark set the terminal to receive and print out the file, then said, "Well, Mace...how does a trip to the islands sound?"

Mace pulled her jacket around her when she got out of the car. "Sunny Florida..." she said wryly.

"What do you expect? It's the middle of December." Mark got out on the driver's side and closed the door. He noted with little amusement that even the hotel sign was decorated with green garlands and extra multi-colored lights.

"Yeah, but I thought it'd be warmer than THIS."

"Blame El Nino. Come on, we'd better hole up here for the night. Our flight to Brazil leaves in the morning and we don't want to hang around here any longer than necessary." Mark checked his watch. "Eight-thirty...that gives us just over seven hours to get to the airport."

Mace stopped as she looked across the street. "Mark...!"

Mark Donovan turned to see a figure waiting across the street, sitting on a Harley-Davidson Shadow, colored as black as the winter night with a red streak down the side. The figure was female, attractive...and familiar. As Mark and Mace watched, the woman brought up her left hand and pointed a finger at them, mimicking the shape of a gun.

"Holy...Mark, that's her! THAT'S HER!!!" Mace started forward a few steps, just close enough to see her face, her granny-glasses...and her smile. Her catch-me-if-you-can smile.

Mark walked forward and saw her start up her motorcycle, then yelled, "MACE, GET TO THE CAR!" He needn't have bothered; Mace was already running across the snowy ground back to the Toronado. She threw open the door and jumped in as Mark started the car.

Lara 1.1 smiled and gunned the engine, waiting for the car to pull out of the parking space. She wanted to know a few things about the people chasing her...most of all, just how committed they were to the chase. It was a new experience, disobeying her Mistress...a few days before, it would've been unthinkable.

But things had changed, hadn't they? Her simple existence, her goals had faltered. There was too much that just didn't sit right with her, and there was too much of the real Lara Croft in her for her to just let it all slide.

As the Toronado eased back to begin, Lara 1.1 grinned and popped the clutch, sending the motorcycle off over the sludge covered streets. The Toronado barreled after her, the tires skidding on new-fallen snow.

"Dammit, Mark, watch it!" Mace hung on as the car fishtailed around. "I just had it detailed!"

"Mace...!"

"I know, I know...she's the only link we've got to whatever's really going on, right?"

Mark grinned as he re-oriented the car to go after the motorcycle. "You may just be a good private eye yet, Mace."

Lara 1.1 smiled, feeling the rhythm of the spiked tires under her. Come along, lady and gent. I'm not getting any younger. She tore off through the alleys, choosing those with plenty of debris and plenty of room for the huge vehicle behind her. The Toronado came on fast, closing the distance until Lara 1.1 broke out into cross-traffic, riding straight through the honking and screeching cars as if she was racing on an open track. Mark drove through, forced to slow to avoid an oncoming cab.

"Shit!!" Mark swerved, then raced after the motorcycle.

"She's gotta be barking-at-the-moon crazy to keep this speed up!"

"No, wait...look!" Mace pointed off to the right. "See that smoke?"

"Yeah...looks like factories or something..." Mark suddenly figured it out. "She must be heading for the railroad tracks or the highway. At this time of night, the stores'll be closing up from the Christmas rush...the streets'll be packed."

"And she'll lose us. Do you think she knows that?"

"She has to...now I know how the Headless Horseman feels." Mark stomped on the gas pedal and the car leaped forward. "We can't let her get to the highway!"

Lara 1.1 heard the throaty rumble of the Toronado behind her and accelerated. She was tempting fate and she knew it; a sharp turn at these speeds and on the icy roads would be suicide. But a strange calm filled her, as if she was not really there, just playing a sort of video game where the fear of death and injury were not personal threats, just distant ones. All she felt was the thrill of the chase, a commitment to finding out the truth about herself and a dedication to one goal: to make sure that her pursuers didn't lose the scent. This chase, she knew, would determine just how interested Mace Daniels and Mark Donovan were to finding Lara 1.0 and David 1.0.

Lara 1.1 slowed, hearing the engine protest as she swerved to the left, heading for the river.

Mark swore and slowed, bringing the hulk around to follow Lara 1.1. "Next time, Mace, get a smaller car!"

"Oh, gee, Mark, I'm sorry my powers of prophecy weren't working when I bought the Toronado!" Mace shot back.

"She's gonna make it...shit!" Mark saw the bike pull away and head for the on-ramp going up to the Miami freeway. "We'll never catch her now..."

"Look!" Mace pointed. "She's slowing down!"

Mark watched as the bike stopped just before hitting the concrete of the on-ramp. As the Toronado closed the distance, Lara 1.1 looked back at them. She was more than a hundred yards away by this time, but even through the dark and the snow, Mace swore that Lara was smiling.

The motorcycle spun its wheels, kicking up gravel and propelling the two-wheeled missile away from the off-ramp towards the south...towards the railroad tracks. Mark tromped on the gas and went off after her.

"What the hell's her game?" Mark said through his teeth, "Is she trying to get caught?"

"Maybe she's a decoy...trying to draw us away from something," Mace offered. "So what do we do?"

"When in doubt, go with what works! Get over here and drive!"

"Why?"

Mark drew out a Glock 19. "'Cause I wanna shoot her!"

"Are you nuts?"

"Does anything in the last hour strike you as particularly sane? If this woman is anything like the Lara Croft I've heard about, this isn't going to stop her...but it may slow her down." Mark slid to the side as Mace squirmed into place, the car moving from side to side. Mace grabbed the wheel just in time to see headlights fill the windshield and she yelled, swerving to the right. Both in the car felt the truck strike the side, metal ripping against metal as the left rear fender became a ragged memory.

Mace settled into the seat and cursed. "I remember now why I like driving with you so much. I so enjoy writing checks to a mechanic or body shop after every trip!" She gunned the engine and searched the road. "Where is she?"

"There, to the left...she's alongside the tracks."

"There's a train on the tracks..." Mark observed.

"There, third car from the back!" Mace turned left and barreled past the threatening NO CIVILIAN TRAFFIC BEYOND THIS POINT sign, decorated with seven bullet holes. "I swear to God, Mark, this woman shot at me and wrecked whatever I had left with David...do we need her alive?"

"Don't know...she knows something about what's going on, but there's no way to tell what, MACE, WATCH THAT SHACK!!"

The Toronado blasted through an abandoned tool shack, sending corrugated tin and wood flying.

"What shack?" Mace grinned.

Mark had a distinct feeling that Mace was becoming as crazy as he was...and he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

Lara 1.1 found better traction on the dirt and gravel, pushing the bike to go even faster. The motorcycle was pushing eighty, suicidal speeds even by the standards of the local street gang. Her small glasses were hardly up to the task of guarding her eyes from the wind and the cold, forcing her to limit her vision by squinting. She was feeling the bite of the cold even through her leathers and thick jacket.

Lara 1.1 was enjoying every minute. Mark would've thought her crazier than the both of them.

She downshifted and persuaded the machine to go even faster, roaring over tracks and ground, dodging train cars, some empty, some moving. Each shudder of the tires was a joy to feel through the chassis of the motorcycle.

She turned to check on the progress of the Toronado, then turned forward to find herself running parallel to a track. Far off, about a mile away, the lone light of an oncoming train brought a smile to her face and Lara 1.1 turned the bike to the left, jumping between the rails.

Her smile widened and she threw back her head, erupting in a scream of triumph.

Mark heard her shriek even over the roar of the car's engine. "She's certifiable...!"

"Mark, are you just going to stand there in idle worship or are you even going to TRY and shoot her?!?" Mace bellowed.

Mark nodded, climbing through the window and leaning out over the ceiling of the car, gritting his teeth against the cold wind whipping through his hair. He sighted in on the motorcycle, but even his aim was less than perfect under these conditions and he knew it. Mark had to settle for suppressive fire and hope for the best. He fired; slow, paced shots that sprayed the motorcycle. He saw some flashes, but couldn't be sure he'd hit anything vital.

Although he'd never know, Mark had indeed hit.

Lara 1.1 felt fire burning into her side and fought to stay on the bike.

She was almost free.

Mark yelled, "I can't see...what's up ahead?!"

"I don't know!!" Mace yelled back. "Wait...we're heading for the coast...we passed a river on the way, YEAH! There's a bridge coming up, leads past a shipyard!!"

"She's gonna make for the bridge! Come on, Mace, FASTER!"

"I go any faster in this thing and we'll start going back in time, Mark!"

"Jesus...!" Mark lowered the gun. "She's heading right for the train!"

Lara 1.1 counted the seconds.

The train finally saw her. The engineer swore and leaned on the whistle, but Lara only coaxed more speed out of the motorcycle. The two vehicles hurtled towards each other, both locked on course. Mace had to tear her eyes away from the scene to keep from becoming a train-related fireball herself, feeling the rumble of another train moving past her at a much slower speed. Mark watched, unable to tear his eyes away as the distance between the train and Lara 1.1 vanished. He squeezed his eyes shut to protect himself against the flash of the explosion...

No boom.

Mark opened his eyes and promptly pronounced them liars.

Lara 1.1 was still alive, driving past the train...somehow, she managed to evade the train before it steamrollered her! "Mace!"

"I saw it...! She's got balls, I'll give her that!"

"She's heading for the bridge! Think we can catch up to her by then?!"

"I think so!"

The tone of Mace's voice made Mark look back into the car. "What makes you so sure?"

"Look! The red lights are flashing at the bridge...that means there's a ship coming through! The bridge'll be up!"

Lara 1.1 saw the red lights up ahead and felt intense relief.

The wild ride was almost over. As she barreled straight for the bridge, Lara 1.1 was very glad to see the end of it ahead of her.

"Mace...I've got some good news. Any chance that she'd be crazy enough to try jumping the bridge just went to nil."

"Why?"

"The bridge doesn't split upwards...it pivots and swings away to the side!" Mark smiled. "We've got her trapped." He watched as she got to the bridge's pivot point and stopped. "BINGO!"

Lara 1.1 gradually slowed the bike and stopped at the pivot point, turning the bike perpendicular to the approaching Toronado. She felt down by her side, wincing as her fingers probed the bloody hole. Thank God...it isn't too deep. I'll be right as rain in a little bit. She turned back to the car. It had stopped by this time and the doors opened, Mark and Mace stepping out and standing at the sides of the car.

"Alright, Lara...or whoever the hell you are...you've got some fast talking to do!" Mark yelled. "And don't try anything stupid!"

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Daniels. I really mean that," Lara 1.1 added.

"Same here, lady...I never got the chance to tell you how much I enjoyed your last visit to my office. Mind if I pull out a shotgun and greet you now the way you greeted me then?" Mace said acidly.

"Sorry, Ms. Daniels...but I was under orders."

"Whose orders?" Mark asked.

Lara 1.1 looked at him, as if for the first time. He looked unfamiliar to her, and moved easily despite his size. "Who are you? I don't remember inviting you on this escapade. Did Ms. Daniels call you in, or are you doing this for someone else?"

"Mace called me in on this, 'Lara Croft'...and as for who I am, I guarantee that if you really knew, it would wipe that smug smile off your face. Ask your boss, maybe she'd know."

Lara 1.1 looked at him, startled for a moment. He's guessing, that's all it is, she thought. "Maybe I will ask her, Mr. Donovan. Whether you overestimate your worth has yet to be determined, Mr. Donovan, but you made it this far."

Mark smiled, a smile that Lara 1.1 found chilling. "So, who's pulling your strings, meat puppet?"

"Sorry, Mr. Donovan...but that would spoil the ending, I'm afraid. There's a lot left for you two yet to do, and I'm on something of a schedule. I've got a plane leaving for the islands before midnight, and I'd hate to lose out on my frequent flyer mileage."

"You're not going anywhere," Mark said with finality.

"And what are you going to do, Mr. Donovan? Shoot me where I stand?"

"If it comes to that." Mark's voice betrayed menace and what seemed to be a terrible regret, the acceptance that things would go from bad to worse and that it didn't matter to him either way.

"Don't worry, Mr. Donovan...I won't come past you, if that's what you're demanding. I give my word."

"As what? I didn't think test-tube babes like you understood the concept of one's word."

Lara 1.1 frowned. "So you know."

"Not everything, but enough to be very dangerous to you and your boss. You're going to tell us the rest, it'll make things easier. Doesn't the Easy Way sound good?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried it."

Mace stepped forward. "Listen, 'Lara,' I've had just about enough of you. I've had enough of your games and your little tricks. Now start talking, dammit."

"Sorry. I'm not quite the conversationalist tonight...although I will tell you this: you're not the only ones who've been played for fools. Follow me...if you can." With that, Lara 1.1 sprang back onto the motorcycle and shifted into second.

Mark aimed the gun at the rear tire and pulled the trigger, but he only heard a click. "SHIT!" he cursed, popping out the empty clip and slamming another home, but by that time, Lara 1.1 was accelerating at high speed...

...AWAY from the two of them.

Mace ran forward a few steps. What is she...??

Lara 1.1 saw the edge of the bridge coming up fast. It was more than a hundred feet to the water below, and if the outside chill was a standard to go by, the water was absolutely frigid!

She smiled. Lara 1.0 must LOVE this sort of thing...

Mace and Mark watched in shock as Lara 1.1 rode the bike right off the edge of the bridge into freefall, leaping from the bike and breaking into a swan dive. She moved through the air gracefully, hitting the water and disappearing.

"WHAT THE...?! I don't believe this!" Mark holstered his weapon and looked down at the water, its dark surface giving no sign that anyone was even there.

"So now what?" Mace asked, almost speechless with rage.

"Well, we know it's Natla."

"Oh? And how do we know that?"

"I saw her face when I said 'she.' It went just the way I thought it would."

Mace sighed hard. "So, do we go to Brazil now?"

"We have to go to Trinidad by way of Brazil. I do hope we run into her again."

"With our rental? Shipping the Toronado costs too much just to run a person down. Besides, the detailing costs ALONE..."

"No. I want to talk to her."

"She's not about to tell you willingly, you know."

Mark looked back to Mace. "She'll talk. To me, she'll talk."

"And why would she talk to you, if I may ask?"

Mark smiled that ghastly smile again. "Because to her, it will be better than the alternative. Come on, let's get back to the hotel and get some sleep."

Lara 1.1 pulled herself out of the icy water onto the dirty sand surrounding the railyards and withdrew her radio. "Lara 1.1 to Base. Come in, Base."

"Natla here. Report."

"It went bad, Mistress. Mark Donovan and Mace Daniels spotted me."

"Damn! I told you not to let yourself be seen!"

"Circumstances went bad, Mistress. However, they were unable to recognize me; I wore a disguise to make sure that they would not recognize me as anyone who looked like Lara Croft. I was forced in the ensuing chase to ditch into the river, hence my appearance."

"You are completely certain they did not recognize you?"

"Absolutely."

Natla face calmed. "Good...the situation would've become intolerable had you been identified."

"The situation has changed, however. Through my surveillance, I have discovered that they have identified a link to the plant in Trinidad. I am certain that they will go there in an attempt to uncover the conspiracy surrounding my existence."

Natla's face hardened. "How did they discover the link?"

"Information from an undetermined source. I believe that their hacker friend, 'Heloquin,' provided it for them when he plumbed the site in New York. I have been unable to locate the hacker."

"Neither have we. My agents traced him to a house in Queens, which promptly exploded once my team tried to enter. Nine agents were lost. For now, we must abandon searching for this...Heloquin. I have to move all operations to another plant and prepare an appropriate reception for those two."

"I have been wounded. I will return to the plant in Trinidad for recovery and will assist in evacuation and information re-assignment and destruction...since we know where they're going. They will be taking a roundabout trip to Brazil, in an attempt to throw us off the trail. That will give us more time."

"Good. Contact me when you confirm your ETA at Trinidad. Natla out."

Lara 1.1 clicked off the radio and smiled. This was working better than I'd hoped. I'd better hurry if Mace and Mark will be able to stay on the trail. She crawled up to firmer land and walked until she found the pack she'd hidden among the tufts of grass near the road. She quickly changed her clothes and bandaged herself, withdrawing the bullet and making sure that none of the damage would show through.

One wardrobe change and taxi ride later, she was at the airport buying a ticket to Trinidad. She was now dressed in a classy business suit and knee-length skirt, her wet hair combed back and put in a bun on her head. Her figure had been modified to look more inconspicuous by a slimming bra and padding around the waist, completing the appearance of an attractive woman, but a woman without the tell-tale physique of an busty adventuress.

Lara 1.1 took her boarding pass to the gate and sat down to wait for the plane to start allowing passengers to board the plane. As she did, her mind was moving like a clock set on fast-forward, planning out how she was going to arrange the computer mainframe to allow Mace and Mark to find out more without alerting Jacqueline Natla. It wasn't easy for Lara 1.1 to stay a step ahead of her and she could guess what would happen to her if Natla found out she was changing sides on her.

But right now, what side Lara 1.1 was on was not nearly as important as discovering her true place in the world. She would do anything to find out.

ANYTHING.

Mark went to his room and called Mace Daniels in.

"Yes, what is it? I'm tired," Mace said crossly.

"Get packed, we leave in ten minutes."

Mace was too tired to look surprised, but she made a fair job of it. "For Brazil?"

"No, straight to Trinidad."

"What about 'the element of surprise' that you went on about?" Mace asked, looking cross.

"We lost it. As soon as that other Croft clone saw us, we lost it. Now we have to get over there quickly." Mark pointed to an e-mail message displayed on his laptop:

TRINIDAD TRAFFIC INCREASING. INPUT 45% OF OUTPUT. HIGH-SPEED DOWNLOAD FROM FACILITY UNTRANSLATABLE. TRYING TO DECODE, BUT HAVING NO LUCK. OWE YOU STEAK DINNER. WILL TRY TO GET INFO ON TRANSPORTS, BUT SUGGEST YOU HAUL IT OVER THERE. SOUNDS LIKE THEY ARE CLEANING HOUSE.

H.Q.

Mark pulled out a hardcopy map of the island, with the facility marked in red. "This is pretty far inland, and it's pretty remote, so parachuting in would not be a very good option. However, I know a friend around here with some equipment we could use..."

When Lara 1.1 arrived at the plant, Natla was coolly ordering the servants to perform their evacuation duties and keeping updates on what was being moved and what was allowed to stay. Guardbeasts were sectioned off in cages, to be released once the last few servants had left the area. Biological hazards in gaseous, liquid and flesh forms were being shipped out in their containers, made to be detachable in case of such an emergency. Labs were being folded up, experiments documented, copied and then destroyed. The computer mainframes were uploading their contents like crazy to other areas capable of continuing the research.

Natla wheeled into the main lab as Lara 1.1 joined the other lead technicians. "Good, you made it back in record time. How are you?"

"The wound is healing well...amazingly well. Was I always capable of this sort of recovery?"

"Well, I took the liberty of improving you in subtle ways...you can actually regenerate damage to some degree, and you are physically and mentally superior to what you were before since I augmented your DNA sequences."

"Augmented? You mean I'm not human anymore?"

"Relax, Lara...you are still quite human. You're just better, that's all. Now, I must see to the transport of my personal projects, not to mention the Scion. Make sure that things are wrapped up here before you leave, and that you leave well before Mace Daniels and Mark Donovan get here. I'm counting on you."

"You've already done so much for me, Mistress. The least I can do is help you."

Natla smiled. "Yesss...you're right. You owe me a great deal, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then don't let me down." Natla wheeled off in the direction of the landing strip and Lara 1.1 went to work....after making a small side trip to one lab in particular.

The Main Examination Room.

"This is NOT a good idea!" Mace spoke loudly to be heard over the sound of the air whistling through the cabin of the Learjet.

Mark was behind her, strapping himself into a flight harness. "I thought you said you could manage hang-gliding...!"

"Not when you have to assemble it in midair!"

"You know, you never would be able to hack it..."

Mace had jumped out the door before Mark could say another word. He smiled to himself, then jumped out after her.

Lara 1.1 closed the door behind her. The room was always lit by harsh, yellow lights that brought out every detail in the room in a stark, almost unreal way. Every tool, every tube, every single bubble floating leisurely to the top of the semi-clear fluid in the transparent containers that made up the walls of the chamber...it all looked like pieces of some surrealist's nightmare.

She knew this area well. It was her nursery. It was here that Lara 1.1 was reborn into the world of matter and life...and where other things were born, but none quite as aesthetically pleasing as her. Many of those things were not bred for their appearance, but many were. The failures occupied the containers, in all shapes except the one shape the designer wanted.

The shape of the man on the table, asleep and unaware.

Lara 1.1 went to the table and pushed three of the trays aside, standing right next to David Connors' prone body. She reached out and brushed his hair away from his face reverently, then leaned over him and ran her hands over him searchingly. Where are you, David? Stuck in some dream trap, perhaps no dreams at all? Maybe you're dreaming of her...of me. Which one is it? The one you helped, the one who took away my life and took her place? Or are you dreaming of me, the one who was left behind?

"Or did she?" she asked herself out loud. "What am I, David? Am I a woman, or am I a tool for someone else's work?" She picked up out of the instruments, a thin scalpel used for removing layers of skin. "Am I nothing more than an instrument like this?"

Lara 1.1 suddenly held it under his neck, her lips pulling away from her teeth in a grimace. "You can not tell me, David Connors...but I swear by Heaven and Hell that I WILL know," she hissed, "even if I have to burn everything there is down. You, the other Lara, Natla, NONE of you matter as much as my need to know. I do not want to destroy any of you...but whoever is responsible for what has happened to me will find out what the wages of their sins really are. I promise that on my life."

She put the blade down and stepped back. "Your clone will be decanted soon. I have to go, David. There are only a couple of days left before your friends arrive. There is so much left to do and I don't know how much time I have left. I don't even know," Lara 1.1 added thoughtfully, "if I shall want you for myself or if I shall want you dead and dismembered. Life is so confusing sometimes. But my confusion WILL be over soon, David. That I promise you. Whether you are agreeable or not..." Lara 1.1 cocked an eyebrow. "We'll see. Oh yes, we'll see."

Her phone ringed and she opened it. "Yes? Yes, Mistress. I will be there shortly. I just need to finish up here. It is? Good. I'll be right there." She put the phone away and turned back to David. "I have to go now, dear. Your latest brother is ready."

The doors hissed closed behind her.

Mace counted to 10, then yanked on the stirrup, hoping Mark had been telling the truth about the funny contraptions Mark had finagled out of the swarthy Swede at Miami.

The box unfolded from her back, giving her the illusion of having bat-wings, then stiffened as the wing 'joints' locked in place. She looked behind and above her to see Mark unfolding his portable glider as well, swooping down to take the lead. He wore the same black suit that she did, another request from the Swede.

She wondered if she would be able to keep this suit and glider. It would make traveling around the city easier. "Mark, comm test," she whispered into the throat microphone.

"I hear you loud and clear." Mark's voice was diminished by the transmitter in her ear.

"Won't they see us?"

Mark said, "No. Follow me in." He pivoted in the air, then aimed the glider towards the island. Mace followed.

"Mistress, I wish to speak with you."

"What is it?" Natla asked irritably. She had just received the news that Mace Daniels and Mark Donovan had recently left the Miami airport in a chartered plane after spending only a few hours in town. As a result, she'd had to move up her timetable after discovering that an OTHB radar array had picked up their plane heading east-southeast, directly towards Trinidad, not towards Brazil. She couldn't tell whether the two investigators had clearly lost their minds, heading directly for Trinidad, or whether they were simply abandoning pretense and subtlety. Maybe they had other plans. Or maybe I have overestimated their intelligence...to my regret.

"What will we do with David Connors?" asked Lara 1.1.

"The original? We're taking him with us. Should the other Lara decide to plague us, we will have the perfect bait. Also, I have a few plans for what to use his genetic material for..."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

Natla turned to Lara 1.1 and smiled. "Of course not, Lara. He has brought me no harm, so why should I harm him? He will be perfectly safe with us. Now come along...we must go."

As Lara 1.1 followed Natla, her suspicions were becoming confirmed. Natla's veneer of benevolence towards her and David was beginning to fray noticeably, and Lara 1.1 wondered at what point she herself would become an irrelevance. "Mistress...I don't mean to impose, but I wish to voice a request. I have become somewhat...fond of David Connors, the real David. I was wondering if it would be possible for me to keep him once this is all over."

"Keep him? Lara, he is not some housebroken dog. He is the type of man to consciously ally himself with the one who has taken over your life, remember that. You would be much better off with his clone, the successful one."

"No offense, Mistress, but he has the mind of a child."

"All the better. He will be much easier to train as your pet and slave. He will become totally dependent upon you. Doesn't that sound preferable to an unpredictable cohort of your enemy?"

This time, however, Lara 1.1 ignored the sense of agreeability and subservience that usually came over her when Natla posed such a question to her. "Of course you're right, Mistress," Lara 1.1 said, not meaning it in the least. "The clone would be much more useful." As a doorstop, she mentally added.

"Glad to hear it. Now, you stay here and make sure everything is in order. Join me later at Site Beta."

"Yes, Mistress," Lara 1.1 said as Natla left the building, heading for the helipad.

Radar picked up the two incoming blips, then examined them. The gliders, thin enough to bollix radar, didn't show up at all. Two seagulls flying in from the sea were hardly cause for alarm, so radar chose to ignore them. It could not take into account the fact that they were moving in a beeline towards the installation, limited by its own mechanical perceptions to the reality of what the reflected radar waves told it.

As Mark would say, machines were stupid.

Mark landed softly on the rise near the facility, laying flat on the ground and letting the glider cover him. Mace landed nearby, landing a little lighter than she was accustomed to. She looked to Mark, then moved her hand over to the tiny keyboard on her left wrist and typed, WHAT NOW?

The response came after a pause. SURV. WAIT, the screen said.

Mark took out a small set of night-vision binoculars, then crawled like an alligator to a better vantage point, examining the facility in a slow pan.

Activity was heavy at this point in time, and Mark hated being right about this. They were all moving out, no question. MOVING DAY, he typed.

WHERE 2? came the response.

Mark looked out, then started entering ID numbers for every helicopter and Osprey he could see on the tarmac, saving them to a hardcard in the MANTAC unit on his wrist. Heloquin could flag the IDs later wherever they landed.

Mark paused, spotting movement on the landing area, and focused in on the movement.

Many people walking...but one person in a wheelchair.

Mark went to maximum magnification and was treated to the face in profile.

He remembered it from the files on Natla/Atlantic.

WHAT? came the message from Mace.

"Good morning, Mr. Phelps," he whispered. NATLA, he typed. STAY WHERE U R, he added, and watched the wheelchair carefully.

He had a rifle with a scope sighted in for 800 yards and a clear shot to the woman...but even if he had had the rifle with him, he couldn't risk a shot. Natla was the key to finding David, and dead Atlantean women tell no tales.

But live ones could be downright talkative, when given proper incentive. Mark made a personal promise to get Natla alone in the near future. He had a LOT of questions to ask her...

He watched her enter one of the aircraft and punched in its number, putting five stars next to it to mark its priority. He wished he could get closer, but the opposition was far too strong. Trickster would have made it easy, but Trickster was gone, maybe for good.

He turned his attention to other areas, noting the presence of many boxes marked with the telltale BIOHAZARD symbols. What were in those? More monsters, like the one in the previous facility?

Lara 1.1 went back in to supervise the dispensation of the remaining biologicals, secretly activating the nerve gas dispensers instead of the pheremonal agitators in the cells containing the animal biohazards that Natla left behind. With everything set up the way she wanted it to be, Lara 1.1 went out to the last remaining helicopter and climbed aboard. "TAKE US UP!" she yelled, looking down at the compound for the last time. "SITE BETA!"

The pilot nodded and took off from the helipad.

Mark moved back towards Mace, who was sleeping quietly. He envied her ability to sleep like that. Hell, he envied her ability to sleep. He woke her up with a tap on the shoulder, and pointed away from the facility. TIME 2 GO, he typed, and she understood, moving away quietly. They crawled until they were out of sight of the facility, and only then did they get to their feet, folding up the gliders again, and started hiking out towards the coast.

Mace waited until they were far enough away to talk, then said, "What do we do now?"

"We head for a hotel and wait until we are sure everyone's gone. Then I call in a few markers from some old Company friends..."

"And after?"

Mark pursed his lips. "I'll send those ID numbers to Heloquin. He can check them out, see if they are registered. If they are, he'll know when one shows up in any registered airspace in the world. If they are fake...then things will get tougher, but not impossible."

"What about these...markers?"

"In a short time, after they've all left, I'm going to call a friend and send them all the documentation I have on a company illegally creating biological weapons. What I don't have in evidence, I can make up in plausibly deniable sources of material...I know the Game well enough." Mark smiled. "I figure in about four hours, a group of Longbows from Guantanimo Bay are going to come in and drop enough tonnage to eradicate that plant from the face of the Earth. Bit of a surprise for all concerned, but by that time, we'll be on our way."

"Where are we going?"

"London. It's time to try and track down the original Lara Croft..."

Meanwhile, the copy was busy.

A few hours after the helicopter had taken off, Lara 1.1 got up from her chair and went forward to the cockpit. She was alone now, the other passengers very much dead from the silenced pistol she brought with her. As she opened the door, the co-pilot looked back at her and smiled. "How's everyone back there?"

"Fine," Lara 1.1 said flatly and shot him through the right eye. The pilot didn't even have time to turn around to see what had happened before a Teflon-coated bullet entered the back of his skull at close range, entering at such an angle that it had time to ricochet three times in his skull before exiting out his nose into the instrument panel. Lara 1.1 shoved him aside and nonchalantly climbed into the pilot's seat, noting that he had done her the favor of putting the helicopter on autopilot. She checked her timetable, then the remaining fuel. Good. Just enough. She altered the course slightly, giving the rotorcraft more speed, then opened a secure channel to a nautical radio in the Mediterranean. "Vixen to Raven. Come in, Raven."

"Raven here," said a female voice, slightly modulated. "ETA?"

"Three hours. Radio me when you see me."

"Roger."

Lara 1.1 hauled the bodies out of the cockpit, then sat back and took a book out of a backpack lying on the floor next to the pilot's chair. THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO.

It was closer to six hours when the assault helicopters came in low over the water, flying nap-of-the-earth. Two Kiowa helicopters acquired all available targets, sending the information to the Apache Longbows, who chose their targets with utmost care and precision.

Five frantic minutes later, the entire facility was a smoking shell, with no survivors noted or logged. The somewhat-expensive government officials were told through secured channels that unless they wanted a detailed investigation of the site and its connection to the numbered Swiss accounts of the aforementioned to be conducted, they would disavow any knowledge of what was being produced and end all dealings with the Atlantic Company.

As Mark would have told Mace, if one had to play The Great Game, one had to play by the unwritten rules.

Meanwhile, the real Lara Croft was quite busy.

It had been only twenty-four hours since she'd received the call, but she'd already managed to go through four square meals, punctuated by visits to a gallon tub of chocolate-chip ice cream. Mannfred was getting somewhat nervous; it wasn't like Lara to go off her diet the way she had, and he had a bad feeling he knew why, so he performed his duties without commentary or advice.

Lara moped around the house, unable to find enough motivation to do anything at all. Calls to her house went unanswered, messages were left and not returned. She hadn't even LOOKED at her obstacle course and she had asked Mannfred to tell anyone who tried to contact her that she was taking a long sabbatical. Every waking moment was plagued by the question, why, why?? she asked herself, wondering what she had done to push David away. Every so often, the fear that she had been too afraid to commit to David surfaced like a drowned man, and she chided herself for not taking advantage of David's desire to be with her, but Lara couldn't make the argument stick. She decided that if David couldn't respect her principles, then he didn't deserve to make the commitment.

It still hurt, though.

After finishing off the ice cream, Lara started looking for something else to satisfy her depression-inspired appetite. A knock at the door went unacknowledged as Lara, carrying a large bag of biscuits, went back to her room. Mannfred shook his head and went to the door, opening it slowly. He saw two people standing outside, a man and a woman. "May I help you?"

"Is Lara Croft here?" Mark asked, while Mace leaned up against the side of the wall outside the house.

"Lady Croft is not taking calls from visitors. She is on sabbatical and will be unavailable until further notice."

"We gotta talk to her. It's important," Mace added. "You wouldn't believe how much."

"I'm quite sure you think so, but Lady Croft is not available to take visitors. However, if you would care to leave your name and where you may be reached later, I'm sure that her Ladyship will contact you at her earliest convenience," Mannfred said firmly. Pushy Americans, he thought derisively. If it weren't for their uncouth ways, Lady Croft would still be a happy woman.

"Let me put it to you this way, old man," Mace said warningly, but Mark stopped her before she could move forward.

"Mace, please. If he says we can't come in, then we can't come in."

"WHAT??" Mace exclaimed. Mannfred looked relieved.

"We'll just have to come back later. However, there is something you could do for us that won't involve disturbing the lady of the house."

"Yes?" Mannfred asked.

"Could you tell me what that is over there?" Mark requested, pointing to the right.

Mannfred turned to the right and the next thing he knew, he was being spun around like a top, then set into a chair by the door. He looked up at Mace and Mark in dizzied consternation. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"This is what is known in America as 'getting through the defensive line.' Don't worry, just have a seat. This won't take long at all." Mark turned to Mace. "Let's go." They strode up the stairs with Mannfred trying to keep up, protesting loudly.

"If you don't get out of here, I shall call the police!"

"Go ahead. Call 'em if it makes you feel any better," Mace quipped, rounding the corner and checking the first door on her right. "Where does this go?"

"Attic," Mannfred said, quite flustered. "Now see here!"

"No thanks," Mace said shortly, walking to the next door on the right. "And this door?"

"See here, I absolutely REFUSE to endure this any longer! Lady Croft!" Mannfred yelled, hoping that his employer would come out and deal with these two malcontents in short order.

The door opened and Mace and Mark turned to see a woman with red eyes, hair tied back in a braid already starting to unravel, wearing a baggy sweatsuit and carrying a bag of cookies. The two Americans had to take a good hard look at her to recognize her as Lara Croft.

"Who are you?" Lara asked vacantly.

Mark looked to Mace, who said, "Don't you recognize me?"

"No. Should I?"

"Listen, Lara, we have to talk."

Lara's eyes grew hard. "You're Americans...who are you? Friends of David? Well, if you're here to speak on his behalf, then I have nothing to say to you. Good day. You know where the front door is."

"Lara, there's been a huge misunderstanding. I think we need to talk."

Mace's urgent manner caused Lara to reconsider. "Come in. Mannfred, fetch some tea for our guest." She walked inside, Mark and Mace following. "Now then, back to the original question. Who are you two?"

"My name is Mace Daniels. David and I used to work together. This is Mark Donovan, he's a good friend of mine. We're here because someone has been playing a sick, twisted joke on both you and me."

"A joke?" Lara sat down on the bed. "Have a seat. Explain."

Mace and Mark sat down in chairs around a table in her room, next to the windows. "Lara," Mace began, "You're going to find this really hard to believe, but hear us out before you start calling us liars. It all started when a man named Mr. Sung suddenly disappeared..."

By the time Mannfred came upstairs with the tea, Mark was explaining how he'd discovered a link between Natla Technologies and the Atlantic Company. Lara's face was unreadable as they both went on, trading off between each other the role of speaker. Mannfred stood by as Mace finished, "And that's why we're here, Lara. We need your help to get David back."

Lara remained silent until Mark asked, "Well??"

"I'm waiting for Rod Serling to come out and do the teaser." Lara Croft stood up and her face clouded with rage. "How can you stand there and tell me this incredible story? What is it, did David put you two up to this, to explain away his actions as the result of some conspiracy created by someone I killed a year ago?? This is preposterous!!"

"Come on, Lara...don't you think all this is just the littlest bit bizarre?"

"What I thought was bizarre was David calling me up at home, just after I'd recovered the Dagger of Xian, telling me that it was over between us! This story is, by comparison, complete and utter balderdash!! I want you two to leave here right now before I call the police to take you both away!"

"Lady Croft?"

Everyone turned to Mannfred, who was looking quite puzzled. "What is it, Mannfred? Surely you don't believe what these people are saying?"

"But, my Ladyship, I thought YOU told me not to let David back into the house before you came home!"

Lara went speechless, Mark and Mace likewise, but for a different reason: to let this revelation play itself out. "I beg your pardon??" Lara asked finally.

"While you were in Tibet, I received a call from you telling me that you'd broken off your association with David Connors and to have all his belongings thrown out. You even told me never to mention his name in this household again, and threatened me with unemployment if I ever did."

"I never said that! Are you sure it was me??"

"I'd know your voice anywhere, MiLady. It was you."

"Not entirely," came a voice from the door.

Everyone turned and four jaws hit the carpet at the sight of Lara Croft 1.1 entering the room. She looked around as Mannfred spun his gaze between the two Laras, then staggered back into the remaining vacant chair in the room. Lara dropped the bag of biscuits and walked in a daze towards Lara 1.1, reaching up to touch her as if she was a ghost that would disappear at any moment. "By...all that's holy...!!"

"So you're the woman Jacqueline Natla told me about. You don't look a thing like your pictures, by the by." Lara 1.1 walked over to Mace and Mark and smiled down at them. "Hello, Mace, Mark. Sorry about your office, Mace. I'd write you a check for the damages, but I don't think Mistress Natla would allow it in the least."

Now that Mace and Mark saw the two of them together, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. They were completely identical as far as looks and physical features, but both Mace and Mark could see that there was something darker about Lara 1.1, as if she had been created by the formula that had created Mr. Hyde instead of being cloned from Lara Croft's genes. There was a subtle twist to her lips, a look in her eyes, a sense of foulness to Lara 1.1. Physically, the two were indistinguishable from one another, but a few minutes after being in the company of both and Mark and Mace wondered how'd they'd ever mistaken Lara 1.1 for the original.

Lara sat down on the bed again, biscuits forgotten. Her mind was moving at light speed, but as an avalanche of discovery and emotions thrown together. She looked up at her clone. "And David?"

"I was instructed to call him and dump him like a bad habit. He didn't take it very well at all...quite nearly drunk himself into a coma before Natla's men came and picked him up. They used him to create a clone, after several failed attempts, and had David 1.1 call you and give you the bad news."

"Natla has David??" Lara stomped her foot down, crushing the bag of cookies into powder. "MY David?"

"Wait a minute, hold the phone, stop the bus!!" Everyone turned to Mark, who was waving his hands about. "I just want to know something from you, Lara 1.1 or whatever your name is!"

"Only one thing?" she asked with a Mona Lisa smile.

"If you're here telling us all this, does that mean you're changing sides? Does Natla know you're here?"

"Yes and no."

"So what's the deal, clone?" Mace asked angrily.

Lara 1.1 sighed. "When I was created, I was taught to believe that you, Lara, were the clone and that I was the original, that you had stolen my life from me. Natla did everything she could to heal herself and keep her existence a secret, while training me to look and act like you. However, the more I learned about my 'clone,' the more I began to question that you had tried to destroy me and take my place. The more I heard, the more the story sounded fake. Finally, I decided that if I was ever going to discover the truth, I was going to have to do things my way, play dirty. Enlisting Mace and Mark's aid was somewhat easy...all I needed to do was give you two enough clues to keep you on the trail, despite everything Natla did to try and throw you off, not to mention kill you outright. Who do you think helped your friend Heloquin pull data from the plant in New York? SOMEONE had to open the lines; the mainframe was a stand-alone." She turned to the original Lara. "You've been quite silent through all this."

"Right now, I'm wondering whether I show blow your bloody brains out the top of your skull or not," Lara said coldly. "You've caused me no end of heartache, my dear little clone! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get my shotgun and feed you buckshot?!"

"Because I'm going to help you get David back, Lara. I help you get David back and you help me get free of Jacqueline Natla for good and for all. That's the deal. When it's all over, I go my way, take a new name, new way of life, and you never have to be bothered by me ever again. What do you say, Lara? Are you game?"

"Why should I even trust you? You're betraying Natla by coming here. What guarantee do I have that you won't double-cross us as well?"

"None whatsoever. You're just going to have to trust me. As Mark Donovan might put it, 'it beats the alternative.'"

Mark and Mace looked to each other, then to Lara. She nodded. "Very well. You help me..."

"US," Mace interjected. "If you're going to get David, then I'm coming along. Try and stop me."

"Ah, what the hell...it's either this or go home and start rejecting models sooner rather than later. I'm in, too...personally, I'd like to meet this guy, David. He must be something for you two to want to get him back so badly."

"All right then...if you and the others help me, Lara-clone, and I'll forget that you ever existed. Cross us...and you'll wish YOU had never existed. Deal?"

"Deal," came the voice of Lara 1.1 through the radio, "You can rely on me."

Jacqueline Natla lay back in the chair of the control room and smiled. "Ahh, treachery...my life would be so humdrum without it."

"For a woman who's agents are defecting, Natla, you sure look smug."

Natla looked back at David Connors, strapped into a motorized wheelchair. "Why, David. You wound me..."

"Don't I WISH."

"...I am insulted that you think I didn't have this whole scenario planned down to the most minute detail."

David's eyes widened sharply. "You knew that clone would go behind your back??"

"Knew it? Why, David...I absolutely COUNTED on it. I knew that there would be enough of the original in the copy for her strong will to start rebelling against my statements and stories. I carefully planned her tutelage to start doubting my words and suspecting my true priorities at just the right time to start planning her escape after the real Lara was crushed by the idea that you were dumping her. Lara 1.1 rebels and leaves, going to find her 'sister' and planning to take her revenge, with the original's help, upon me at my secret base in Egypt." Natla sighed smugly. "Sounds like the perfect plan...if it weren't for my knowing about before Lara 1.1 was even out of the vat."

"Then...they're all..."

"Heading right into the lion's den...only MY lions won't be quite so easy to get rid of, will they? You've seen them."

David had seen the creatures that Natla had set up around the plant...in fact, he'd be seeing them in his nightmares for years. "You can't expect me to believe that you planned all this from the start!"

"Oh really? Computer?"

"-Yes?-" the synthetic voice answered from the console.

"When was the origin date of the file for Lara 1.1's creation?"

"-February 8^th, 1997.-"

"Has that file been altered since it's creation?"

"-Negative.-"

"Computer, please read to David the alternate filename for Lara 1.1."

"-Alternate filename for File #14765: 'Benedict Arnold.'-"

David looked first at the screen next to him, displaying the parameters for the file, then back at Natla, who was wheeling over to him, stopping by his side. "Now, David...you were never a part of my death, except for the death of that clone I sent out a year ago, and I'll chalk that up to simple self-defense. I've been checking you out and now I'm quite certain that you could become a valuable asset, should you make the choice. Think about it, David. You could be by my side in the new order that will come from Project Pandora, safe from my creatures and able to have everything you could ever want. You can even have a clone of Lara as a playtoy, conditioned to be completely devoted to you, willing to die for you if necessary. And even if the clone did die," Natla grinned, "we can always make another one. Of course, I'd be more than happy to take Lara's place. I'm sure, after some time, you'll grow to love me as well."

"Why me?"

"Because, David, you're the only man I've met whom I feel is capable enough to help me bring my plans to fruition. An Empress needs an Emperor, after all. You're smart, resourceful, relentless, dedicated, strong, active...I'm sure that if our genes crossbred, we could be the parents of a truly superior breed of mankind. And there would be nothing you couldn't have, David...I could even bring back your wife and child."

David stared at her. "That's impossible."

"Not for me. All I'd need...and have...is their genetic material to work with, and have them both back. Your lost wife and your charming daughter, alive and well. With your help, I'll be able to find the other Scions of Atlantis...yes, David, there are others. Eight others, as a matter of fact. If I find even one of them, intact, I'll be able to make you as immortal as myself. You'll be a god, my right hand. And with that power, you'll be able to CRUSH anyone who ever caused you pain. Those dirty cops on the force, the Mafia, the Yakuza, you'd become the greatest police officer ever, able to enforce the law beyond anything you dreamed possible. You'll have everything, EVERYTHING. What do you say, David? Would you care to think about it?"

"I don't need to." David had a new light in his eyes that Natla found reassuring. "I've decided."

"And..."

The light suddenly disappeared, replaced by a different light, the light of burning coals. "You are completely and totally out of your mind."

Natla was taken aback, her soothing smile dropping into a frown. "How can you say no? I'm offering you everything!!"

"Listen carefully, you crazy bitch. Thanks to you, I've lost everything except my soul and I'm not going to let you take that from me, too. The only thing I've got left in this world that means anything to me is Lara Croft, the real Lara Croft, not some tailor-made copy. You can re-make her into whatever you want, but it won't be the original and that's all I'll ever want. So STICK IT, lady. You're on your own...!"

Jacqueline Natla halted his words with a slap across the face, as hard as she could. David's face turned slightly and his nose dripped a slow red, but that was it. "You realize, of course, that you've just killed yourself, David Connors," Natla snarled. "But before you die, you're going to see your precious Lara Croft die...and if you're lucky, my creatures will kill her before I can get to her, because if I do, I'm going to torture her for so long, she'll think it's her new career. As for you...you, I'm going to have some fun with before you die. I want you to remember this, David. I'm going to use YOU...to kill HER. And there's not a damn thing you'll be able to do to stop it."

"Are you done?" David spat back. "Let me know when I'm supposed to be shaking in fear, just so I get my cue right."

"I was wrong, David Connors...you're not smart at all. You're a stupid, STUPID little man." Natla wheeled past him angrily and his chair automatically turned to follow the signal Natla's chair was emitting. "But you'll realize just how much trouble you and your friends are in...yes, you'll figure it out. SOON ENOUGH."

Both left the communications room, heading for the labs.

"So, now what do we do?" Lara 1.1 asked. "Do we head for the plant where they'll be holding David?"

"Not yet...not by a long shot. We've got to get more info..." The phone rang, cutting David off. Two rings, then two rings again. "Shit! Lara?"

"What?" asked the two Laras.

"Hell...the original. Do you have a computer with a modem hookup?"

"Of course, right over there." Lara pointed to a desktop computer.

"Heloquin's trying to contact us on the house line. Hook up the house line to your computer and set to answer the next call that comes through. It'll be Heloquin."

Lara rushed over and hooked up the house line, moving the mouse at the same time. Her terminal came up just as the phone rang a third time. Everyone crowded around the computer screen as words came up on the telnet window.

HIYA, LARA CROFT. CAN I SPEAK TO MARK?

Lara turned to Mark. "How does he know you're here?"

"Don't ask. You're probably better off not knowing. Mind if I sit down?"

Lara relinquished the chair to Mark and he sat down. "HIYA, HEL. WHAT'S THE GOOD WORD??"

THERE ARE NONE. BRACE YOURSELVES, PEOPLE, THIS IS WHERE THINGS GET BAD.

"THINGS WEREN'T BAD ENOUGH?" Mark typed.

LISTEN CLOSE. I'M BEING DOGGED ALMOST EVERYWHERE I GO ON THE NET. NATLA'S CREW IS HUNTING ME NOW. IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME UNTIL THEY CATCH UP WITH ME. MARK, THIS IS *BIG*.

"HOW BIG?"

PEOPLE IN HIGH PLACES ON EVERY CONTINENT, PAYOFFS TO CONGRESS, THE KREMLIN, THE CIA, PARLIAMENT, MI-5, THE WHOLE SHMEAR. THERE DOESN'T SEEM TO BE A SINGLE SIGNIFICANT GOVERNMENT AGENCY WHO HASN'T BEEN, IN ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, BOUGHT OFF BY THE ATLANTIC COMPANY. YOU'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF THERE VERY SOON...LIKE IMMEDIATELY.

"GREAT...MORE BAD NEWS."

IT GETS WORSE. I'VE CRACKED THE FILES FROM THE ATLANTIC DATABASE. THERE'S A NAME THAT GOES DEEPER THAN ANYTHING, THE DEEPEST BLACK I'VE EVER SEEN. THE PANDORA PROJECT.

Mark turned to Lara 1.1. "What do you know about this project?"

"Almost nothing...this is the first I've heard of it."

Mark stared at her, then turned back to the screen. "DETAILS?"

I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO GET THE FULL DETAILS, BUT IT RUNS SOMETHING LIKE THIS: AT A PRE-DETERMINED TIME, ALL OF THE ATLANTIC COMPANY'S PLANTS START OPENING THE CAGES TO THEIR LITTLE TOYS, ON EVERY CONTINENT IN EVERY CAPITAL CITY IN EVERY COUNTRY. ALL OF NATLA'S CREATIONS ARE UNLEASHED UPON THE PUBLIC AT THE SAME TIME, CREATURES, DISEASES, YOU NAME IT. I CAN'T EVEN GUESS WHAT THE CASUALTIES MIGHT BE.

"I can," both Laras said.

The original turned to the clone. "What do you know about them?"

"I was there...I saw what Natla is creating. I don't know how many of them there are, but I do know that they've been bred to breed rapidly. If Natla plans to release them all...the damage would be incalculable!"

Mark turned back to the screen, which had been scrolling while they talked. THE WHOLE SHOOTING MATCH IS COORDINATED FROM A CENTRAL LOCATION IN EGYPT, WHERE THE PRIMARY SIGNAL WILL BE TRANSMITTED TO THE OTHERS ON A RANDOM FREQUENCY. I DON'T KNOW WHEN THE SIGNAL WILL BE SENT, BUT IF IT IS...ARMAGEDDON. HELL ON EARTH. NATLA'S OWN PERSONAL RAGNAROK AND ROLL.

"Sweet Jesus..."

THE WHOLE THING IS SET TO START SOON...LESS THAN TWO DAYS, BY MY ESTIBN7... Suddenly, a new message came up on the screen.

CARRIER LOST.

Mark stared at the screen. "They got him." Nobody spoke as Mark stood up from the chair, looking at Heloquin's last transmission, then he turned to the Laras. "Get packed. We've got ten minutes, maybe less before whoever got Heloquin gets us. Mace, see what you can scrounge from here. Lara One, you and Lara Two go to your gun cabinets and pack everything you can lay your..."

But the two Laras were already running for the closet, Lara 1.1 grabbing cases and bags from under the bed and tossing them to Lara, who was busy shoveling boxes of ammo and weaponry into the bags. Mace went to the window and stood guard, watching the outside for anyone coming up the road.

Mark shut off the computer. "Alright...now how do we get to Egypt?"

"I can answer that," said Lara 1.1. "We get there the same way I got here...I've got a seaplane waiting at the airstrip. We can take that all the way to the Nile river...the base is hidden in Lake Victoria."

"Then let's get a wiggle on..."

"Wait." Lara went to a nightstand and pulled something out of the drawer, strapping it to her wrist.

"What's that?"

"Something David gave to me." Lara smiled at the memory. "Now let's go get him back."

Hours later, the airborne seaplane carried two conscious passengers and two sleeping ones.

Mark was resting in the back, the closest he came to actual sleep. Seated only a few rows up was the sleeping form of Mace Daniels, feet propped up on the seat in front of her and snoring gently. Lara Croft was up front, checking the course on the map while the autopilot kept them high and concealed by the cloud deck. Thanks to the sophisticated radar and avionics, she wasn't too worried about running into any unseen objects, and the dense clouds, while making the trip a bit bumpy, did plenty to conceal them from the radar scopes of the land-based.

Lara turned at a noise and saw Lara 1.1 climbing into the cockpit. "How's our fuel?"

"We should have plenty to get there...it'll be leaving that's the trick. I don't dare refuel; it may take more time than we can afford. Sleep well?"

"Certainly." Lara 1.1 sat down in the co-pilot's seat. "There are plenty of vehicles at the plant. We could borrow one for a while."

"You mean, steal one."

"You say to-MAE-to, I say to-MAH-to..."

Lara caught herself smiling. Despite all the trouble her clone had caused, Lara was starting to like Lara 1.1. "We're very much alike, aren't we?"

"Afraid so. Comes with having your gene code and memories. But there's something different, all right. I found myself looking into the Abyss a great deal, working with Natla. I fear some of it has rubbed off on me." Lara 1.1 looked at her "sister." "Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh, I don't know...I couldn't let my thoughts go for such a pittance. Say a few pounds."

"You're wondering about me and David, aren't you? YOUR David. Mine is something of a moron, by the way. Afraid that I might have designs on him?"

Lara sobered. "That thought had crossed my mind."

"I don't blame you. He's certainly a catch." Lara 1.1 noticed Lara's look. "Don't worry, Lara. As enchanting as David is, he does have this regrettably annoying psychological quirk."

"Really? And what is that?"

Lara 1.1 sighed. "He's in love with YOU."

"He is...?" Lara said in a low breath. It was one thing to feel it, but another thing entirely to hear it from someone else.

"Oh, yes. I know for a rock-solid fact that if I suggested the idea of throwing you over for me, he'd probably throw me...off a building!" Lara 1.1 sat back in the seat. "Too bad Natla can't clone him correctly."

"I thought Jacqueline Natla was some sort of genetic genius. Surely David's genes could be copied as mine were."

"Not quite." Lara 1.1 explained the troubles Natla had been having with reproducing David. "The idiot that called you might sound like David and look like David...but he acts like a little child."

"That's not too different from how David acts sometimes," Lara chuckled.

"Think of it as a constant state. Nursery rhymes fascinate David's clone."

Lara frowned. "I think I see what you mean."

"Do yourself a favor, Lara...as soon as you and David are clear of Natla's plant, MARRY that American bloke."

"MARRIAGE??" Lara looked as if her clone had blithely suggested electroshock therapy. "I hardly know David that well...well enough to marry him!"

"What do you know about him?"

"He's rude, arrogant, reckless, far too bold and extremely prone to getting himself into trouble..."

"Gosh, you're right...you certainly wouldn't want to stay associated with anyone like that," Lara 1.1 said sardonically.

"You're absolutely..." Lara stopped. "Has anyone ever told you...?"

"All the time. Now stop wavering and go on. What else do you know about him?" Lara 1.1 prodded.

"He's...well, he's kind, generous, a bit overprotective, smart, funny. Dave can always get me to laugh, no matter how bad my day is. He's creative, a wonderful listener..." Lara stopped when she realized that she was crying. "I'm sorry."

"No, no...don't be." Lara 1.1 put a gentle hand on Lara's hand. "And you don't want to marry a man like that?"

"It's just that..." Lara stopped. "I think I've said too much already."

"Then let me continue from what I remember. You're not willing to establish a solid commitment like that again because of what you went through with Michael. Am I close?"

"Too deuced close..." Lara wiped her eyes. "What am I to do?"

"Well, I'm hardly one to talk, anyway. I was born from a test tube, using genes that didn't belong to me. I'm hardly an expert on humanity. But I can tell you this...from what memories I borrowed from you, I can only say that the only thing you can do is, when all this insanity is over, tell him what you feel. I just hope you get what you really want, Lara. I know I'm not going to be around when it does happen, and if we both have our preferences, we won't ever see each other again."

"What about you? What will you do?"

"Well, no offense, Lara, but the first thing I'm going to do is get a breast reduction." Lara 1.1 grinned. "THAT'LL make certain no one mistakes me for you. How can you go through life with those, knowing what reactions other men have when they see you?"

"I only care what ONE man likes. The rest can go to Hades. Besides, I refused to change myself to suit others a long time ago. You should know that."

"I should...except my memories, or should I say, YOUR memories, are not particularly complete. I can remember very significant events in your life, but I can't remember particulars. For instance, I know you have a father whom you love very much, but I cannot bring his face to mind. I know you went down over the Himalayas, but I can't remember how you survived." And the worst part is, I seem to be forgetting things with alarming frequency lately, Lara 1.1 finished mentally.

"Don't worry about it. Soon, you'll have a life and a name of your own." Lara turned her attention back to the map. "I don't suppose you've already picked out another name, have you?"

"Yes, I have. Laura Jones." Lara 1.1 smiled. "Sounds nice and plain, doesn't it?"

"Well, ladies..."

They both turned to see Mark walking up from the fuselage. "Girl talk?"

"Of a sort," Lara 1.1 said with a smile. "What's on your mind?"

"Not much, just working on hedging my bets." He pulled out a small radio and fiddled with it. The front opened to reveal a small dial and a needle. He adjusted the dial, then said, "Tell me, Lara 1.1, what do you think Natla will be doing right now?"

Lara 1.1 frowned, then said, "Knowing her, she'll be drawing her wagons into a circle. If she knew we were coming, she'd be fortifying her defenses even further. Too bad for her that I followed quite closely in her footsteps and faked my own demise as well. As far as she knows, the helicopter I was in went down over the Atlantic. However, that might be enough to trigger her paranoia to the point where she'd start beefing up security."

The original Lara was close enough to see the needle come alive as Mark adjusted it. "What are you doing, Mr. Donovan?"

"Just swinging for the fences."

"Pardon?" Lara 1.1 asked. The needle banged again.

Mark reached for the flight log and started writing. "You know, I've always wondered what particular gene was responsible for that truly prodigious cleavage. I know a few girls who would pay money for that level of enhancement."

Lara felt the edge of anger come up. "You know, Mr. Donovan, for someone who talks very little, you tend to say very many life-threatening things..." she said warningly.

Mark held up the flight log for both Laras to see.

LARA JONES IS WIRED FOR SOUND.

The words stunned the two women into silence. Mark said immediately, "Well, I'm a little abrasive from time to time. You should have asked my wife, she was used to me getting under people's skin." He closed the radio with a quiet snap, and immediately continued, "Anyway, we should be getting on with the game plan. I would like to know what you can tell me about this place."

As he spoke, he was still writing. ACT NATURAL, BUT GIVE A DECOY PLAN. MAKE IT GOOD, OR WE'RE HOSED.

Mace and Mark pulled out the last of the bags and dumped them into the back of the truck. "Alright, clone...where to now?" Mace asked.

"We go further upriver another three miles. The early warning systems will be up, but we should be able to get very close before we're detected. The closer we get, the easier it'll be."

"And then?" Mace asked, putting a bag with weapons she favored close to her seat on the truck.

"And then we strike at the weakest point." Lara 1.1 pointed to a spot on the map where the word, "DECOY" was written. "This building at the edge of the river here acts as one of the secondary ventilation intakes for the underground base. There aren't many guards here and the location is extremely remote, so entering through here won't be expected at all. We turn off the fans and go in through one of the main pipes. A thirty-minute crawl later, we're inside. From that point on, we'll follow this map through to the lower levels." Lara 1.1 rustled one side of the map for effect. "Without it, we'd be lost for a week in the maze of vents that crisscross the base."

"And then?" Lara asked.

"Then we go down to the detention levels and get David out. From that point on, Natla will know we're here, so it's going to get pretty nervy for a fair bit. Make sure you pace your weapons fire until you get up to Sub-Level Eight. The Armory is up there and we can reload. Now, let's get the boat out and load up. There will be sensors set up along the river, so as soon as we get aboard and moving, no spoken words until we get inside the shaft." Lara 1.1 went to a metal canister, about the size of a large soup can, bobbing in the water and brought out the chunk of flesh that held the tracer Mark had found.

That afternoon, they had landed near Lake Victoria and Lara 1.1 had opted for a little impromptu surgery, literally carving the tracer out of her leg, where it had been attached to her left femur. With Mark's help, they had removed it and encased it inside a large chunk of beef bought from a butcher in Cairo. Lara 1.1 put the chunk of meat inside the canister, closing it and sealing it shut with just enough air inside to keep it afloat, then letting it float away. They watched it float downriver, nearly undetectable from several yards away.

Mace started putting the bags back in the trunk. "Plan B?"

Lara and the others nodded. "Plan B."

Mark and Mace were the ones who found the underwater entryway first, signaling the others as they bordered a large hole in the side of the river. Lara 1.1 had been accurate in the location of the dumping chute used for disposing of overheated water from the plant's water filtration system. The group, clad in SCUBA gear and hauling wet bags, made their way through the pipe, surfacing a hundred yards away in a sewer.

Lara pulled her mask off. "Everyone alright?"

"Yeah..." Mark looked around. "What is this place?"

"Underground sewage system. Gets rid of all the water used in bathrooms and such."

"A giant septic tank? Why doesn't it smell?"

"Jacqueline Natla may be cruel and evil, but still has some respect for the environment. She doesn't want to destroy all life...just re-make it in her image. For that, she needs clean water. Further up those pipes is a filtration system that removes impurities and radiation from the water she uses in the reactor as well as normal toilets and sinks."

"I thought you couldn't get rid of radioactive material," Mace said skeptically.

"Natla used to live in Atlantis. They long ago invented a means of transmuting harmful radiation and radioactive material into a base energy source, rendering the material completely inert. Quite brilliant, actually."

"It's starting to sound like you admire Natla again, Lara Jones," Mark said flatly.

"Not what she does, Mr. Donovan. What she is. For all her evil, her knowledge and intellect can do good things as well. She is intelligent and resourceful, Mr. Donovan. Disrespect that at your peril." Lara 1.1 looked up. "We have to find Valve #25. That'll shut off the flow of water between where we are and where we need to go. Come on, everyone, get a wiggle on."

"What about that?" Lara asked, pointing a door marked, "EXIT."

"Those hallways are covered with cameras and motion sensors. That road leads to the grave." Lara 1.1 calmly removed her wetsuit and opened up the bag she had carried with her, dressing and arming herself. When she was done, she was dressed in the blue bodysuit, shorts, boots and holsters that made her namesake famous. "How do I look?" she asked when she was done.

"Truthfully?" Lara asked as she dressed in her own outfit.

"Of course."

"I am utterly beside myself."

Mark looked at the two of them. "How can you two joke at a time like this?"

Both Laras looked at him and said in unison, "How can you NOT?"

Mace snarled. "I hate to interrupt this attempt at stereo stand-up, BUT THE REASON WE'RE HERE IS..."

"Right. Come on, let's go."

They spread out, looking for the valve among the maze of pipes that lined the walls and crisscrossed the room.

Jacqueline Natla wheeled to the console at the sound of the phone ringing.

"Yes?"

"Mistress, Valve #25 has been manually shut off."

Natla smiled. So...they figured out Lara 1.1 was bugged after all. They don't disappoint. "Activate Alert Status Yellow, Silent Alarm. Have three technicians bring our recent toy up to Room 426. I will meet you there. Have the low-level biologicals released. Send all non-essential personnel to their quarters. Make sure that our guests are properly re-located."

"Now I know how a TV dinner feels..." Mace groused.

"Are we there yet?" Mark said sarcastically. Normally he wasn't claustrophobic, but memories of his last visit to an Atlantic Company plant kept coming to mind. That, and the ALIEN movies.

"We're almost there. Just around this turn is an opening. A hundred yards past that, and we're through." Lara 1.1 said just before the section of pipe ahead of her was sealed off by a plate of steel. She turned to see other plates sliding down in front of the others. She spun her head forward again to see a street sign painted on the plate in front of her, as well as the others.

The sign said, "WRONG WAY."

Then the bottoms fell away and they all slid down into separate Plexiglas chutes, watching each other drop away into separate areas of the floors below them. They lost sight of each other three floors down.

Jacqueline Natla, to coin a phrase, had apparently gotten the drop on each of them.

But not quite.

Mark Donovan, ever the paranoid sort, wasn't content simply to try and slow his descent. He hauled out the grenade launcher and fired downwards, watching the projectile zip below and make contact with a turn in the pipe. The impact detonated the grenade, shattering the tube. Mark then leaned his back against the inside of the tube, shoved his feet against the other side in a sharp angle, and prayed.

The jolt nearly sprained both of Mark's ankles, but his descent slowed sharply and Mark shoved harder. The friction caused him to slow to a stop just above the jagged edge of the tube with a screech of tortured rubber.

Mark dared to open his eyes and look down. He grinned. "'Always the hard way,' you always said, CM. Ain't it the gospel truth. Alright, Natla, I'm through playing this game by your rules. THIS game is going into extra innings..."

Lara 1.1 slid down the chute, cursing herself for underestimating Natla as she landed on a thick pad of cotton in a large room surrounded by barred doors. Each cell held a large, malevolent-looking beast straight from Natla's labs...and they looked hungry. As she drew her guns, she heard Natla's voice over the intercom speaker near the main door out of this room. "Hello, my darling little turncoat. I had a feeling this would happen. Actually, I knew it would. Sorry to spoil your little plans, but I have much better things to do than deal with sub-human traitors. But don't worry...as you can see, I left you some playmates. Enjoy yourself...and remember, your friends are likely having the same kind of fun."

"Bloody hell..." Lara 1.1 thumbed the safeties off the Uzis she held as the doors slowly opened. "This is not tuning out QUITE the way I'd hoped..."

Mace fell into a pool of water, making a tremendous splash and disorienting her for a few seconds. She recovered just in time to see what kind of room she was now occupying; a large circular tank approximately eighty feet wide, with a ladder at the far end. Mace found herself waist deep in dark, murky water and hearing the sound of metal sliding against metal.

Then she saw them...the creatures that were now entering the tank via the gates on the left and right looked like a sadistic cross between a great white shark and a crocodile. Mace took one look at the five creatures swimming leisurely towards her and something changed within her.

All the time she'd been working with Mark on this endeavor, she'd been feeling out of her league, almost like a fifth wheel, with Mark doing all the work. Now, she was on her own and faced with five of the meanest creatures ever to come out of a test tube.

Something snapped within her mind...or, more appropriately, something clicked into place.

Mace's look of fear withered and died under the heat of an expression of pure, cold hatred. She filled her palms with her weapons of choice, two H&K MP5 submachineguns. She clicked off the safeties, vowing never again to let herself be cowed or stopped by anything.

Natla had made the mistake of officially pissing Mace Daniels off.

"Alright, you overgrown suitcases...which one of you is first?" she growled, bringing the guns up to bear.

Lara fell into the worst of it.

She landed at the bottom of the chute onto the hard metal floor of a large cell. She got up, rubbing her butt. "I swear, another fall like that and I'll be crippled..." She stopped as she saw the other occupant of the cell.

It was David Connors.

Lara ran over to the prone man lying on the floor and turned his head, shaking him. "David! David, wake up!" she yelled, feeling frantic at the sight of seeing him again. "Don't you dare die on me, you bastard! You...!!"

Lara stopped. David had opened his eyes, but there was something deep within them that made Lara want to draw her guns. David sat up and looked at her. "Lara?" he asked.

"Yes, David..." she said warily, backing up a few steps.

Then David smiled. A nasty, feral smile that reminded Lara of where she was...and what she knew about Jacqueline Natla. "Pretty..." David said, a thin line of drool dropping from his lips and Lara whipped out her pistols.

"Steady on, whatever you are..." Lara pleaded silently to God that this was just a clone of David, not the real article. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Come here, Lara..." David stood up and began walking towards her...and as he did, the body underneath the clothes he wore began to change, bulges ripping through the T-shirt and jeans to show eyes and fanged mouths showing up all over his body. The limbs melted into pseudopods and the torso bubbled into a glistening, amorphous mass of multiform eyes and hungry mouths...all except for the head. Natla had, with her own sense of humor invested in her creations, left the head completely unaltered. "Coommme heeerrree....Laraaa....!"

"Sorry, 'David,' but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to call this whole relationship off. You're just not the man I once knew," she quipped, steeling herself to do what she had to do.

Natla watched it all with growing glee as she prepared herself mentally for the OMA implantation. The destruction of Lara Croft and her friends plus the ability to walk unimpaired once again...ahh, life is sweet indeed.

Her train-of-thought stopped as she realized that one room, the room containing her mutant arachnids, only contained mutant arachnids. In short, Mark Donovan had yet to make an appearance. He should've been cocooned by now! "Where is Mark Donovan!?" she bellowed.

One of her servants scanned the area and gulped. "Mark Donovan is not visible anywhere in the complex."

"That's impossible!" Natla turned on her link to the main security system and viewed the cameras herself. Mark was nowhere to be seen. "Find him!" She wheeled herself to the main lab quickly. I may need to implant the OMA sooner than I expected... "Take him alive if you can, but if not, kill him! I will not allow anyone to stop me now!!"

Mark dragged himself back through the pipe, then pulled himself out into the valve control area. As he got out, he noticed quiet alarms and flashing red lights. "All right...let's see."

He examined the screens around him, finally finding what all the fuss was about.

BIOLOGIC RELEASE ACTIVE.

ALL PERSONNEL ARE REQUIRED TO MOVE TO NON-PATROL AREAS.

Mark sat down, hard.

Their cover was blown. Mace and the two Laras were in deep kimchi now, and he had no clue how to help them.

Get it together, Donovan, you're not dead yet.

Mark nodded. "Okay...where's the main security network placed?"

Mace shrieked in rage as she opened fire as the first monstrosity opened its mouth to swallow her whole. The bullets ripped into the soft tissue of the croco-shark's mouth, causing it to go into fits of pain, thrashing around in the water. She could not see it, but she could feel the chaotic waves of water that churned the surface.

She started swimming along the edge of the pool, using as little motion as possible. The thrashing croco-shark had attracted the attention of its brethren, the smell of blood in the water inciting them into a killing frenzy. The unwounded attacked the wounded, tearing into the hard skin, biting at each other to push them away and wounding them as well, causing a feeding frenzy that overcame imprinted instincts.

Mace dove into one of the open tunnels, following it back to its source, a deep feeding pen. She could hear people shouting as she pulled herself out, but she had no intention of hiding. She stood up, spotted the lab technicians pulling out sidearms as they rushed towards her, and brought up the MP5s. And as David would put it, she had that I'm-Going-To-Shoot-Everyone-I-See look in her eyes. She mowed them down, spraying suppressive fire in a wide arc. Only a few were able to dodge the initial assault, but Mace then moved forward, shooting quick bursts at every movement she could see.

When she came upon a bleeding tech with more colors on his badge than the others, she smiled and said, "Where is Natla?"

"I don't know," the tech spat at her.

Mace turned and spotted one of the croco-sharks, apparently the sole survivor. She smiled an evil smile as she thought, He still looks hungry...

Lara 1.1 ejected the clips from her guns and popped in fresh, full clips. She looked out from inside one of the cells where the body of one of Natla's creations was conveniently blocking the cell door from closing. Her back was up against the rear wall of the cell and a mad grin was on her face even as the blood dripped from her cheek, legs and left arm. The head of a gigantic trapdoor spider peeked through and Lara 1.1 eagerly blew the head off with a impact-fuse grenade.

Two down, five to go... she thought calmly. She hunched down, readying herself for a moment, then bolted out of the cell and took aim at the nearest monster, holding down the triggers until her wrists throbbed with the effort of controlling recoil. One took the barrage full in the horned cranium, dropping to the ground with an audible CRUNCH as its carapace hit the metal floor. The other huge insects rushed over their fallen comrade, only to find themselves on the business ends of Lara 1.1's rabid submachineguns. She continued running around them, weaving between the bodies as they fell, stopping only when the last one fell to a lifeless heap at her feet.

Lara's smile was etched on her face, apparently incapable of any other emotion. She looked down towards the end of the room and saw an access door in the far end. She fired the last three bullets into the mound of insectoids, then removed the clips and put in fresh ones.

She ran to the door, opened it, and came out firing at the humanoid panthers rushing towards her.

Lara 1.1 thought, Surely Heaven couldn't be better than THIS....

Lara ducked behind a corner of the hallway and stopped, her breath coming in hoarse rasps of air. Behind her, she could hear the shuffling of the David-thing following her, calling out her name in a parody of romantic intentions. And the worst part is...I can't seem to cause that THING any damage! It's like trying to shoot Jell-O! She put away her guns and withdrew a claymore mine, running a trigger line along the floor and aiming the blast direction back the way she'd come.

She looked up and it was fifteen feet away.

The David-thing was now little more than a mound of flesh, teeth and claws, the unblemished copy of David's true face sitting on the front like a hellish hood ornament. Its eyes focused on Lara and it smiled. "Wannnnnttt kkiiidddssss, LLLLLaaaaarrrraaaaa.....?"

"No thanks, I only mate with HUMANS," she said shortly, barely containing her fear as she removed the pin from the mine and bolted around the corner. She stopped thirty feet away and turned to see the mass blunder through the wire. A loud CRUMP!!!! filled the hallway and Lara looked through the smoke to see how much damage she'd caused.

The shuffling continued and the David-thing moved out of the smoke.

Unharmed.

Lara took off down the hallway, her mind racing. "When the bloody hell are you going to DIE??!" she yelled behind her. She followed the creature through several twists and turns until she came to an elevator door. "Thank heaven," she said, punching the elevator call button.

She looked up at the floor indicator. It started at "one" and ended at "eighty-seven," the "one" currently lit. Then the "two" lit, then "three," then on and on as the car descended.

Lara heard the sounds of the David thing getting closer and mused how she'd give ready money to know what floor she was on at that moment.

Mark Donovan slipped through the door marked EXIT, and looked around.

He spotted the first camera moving back towards the door, and sent a magnetic pulse at it with the EMP emitter he had brought with him. The pulse caused the emitter to 'pause,' a feedback image of the hallway repeating over and over for the next 15 seconds before becoming fully operational again. The emitter was a gift from an old friend, a former case officer. Mark wished that he was still alive to see his work in action.

He slipped past the paused camera, then looked around the corner.

He reasoned that if any motion sensors were working in these halls, they were probably deactivated. If the Biologics were running around loose, then it wouldn't be much of a point to track the movements of their animals...

Then a door opened up ahead of him, and three 'Raptors stepped out, spotting him in moments.

Mark didn't stop to wonder how he had been spotted, he simply raised the MM-1 grenade launcher and fired, diving to the floor and lay flat. The grenade exploded in the center of the trio, the anti-personnel grenade shearing the beasts apart from the waist up. The truncated legs swayed, then dropped.

Mark ran forward, ignoring the blood, having spilled far too much in his lifetime to be bothered by the display of gore.

It took him four minutes, but he found what he was looking for—a tiny implant, buried in the haunch of one leg. It was still broadcasting some signal, that was apparent, and it ran on the trickle of background current in the animal's nervous system.

Natla didn't miss a trick. She kept the sensors on, but the implant gave a signal that identified it as a biologic. If the sensors 'heard' movement, but without a biologic implant...

"Sorry, Lara. I'll listen closely from now on." He slipped into the holding area where the 'Raptors came from. It turned out to be empty, and he slipped out again, standing in the center of the hall.

He dropped the grenade launcher in its sling, pulling out another heavy piece of hardware. It was his current favorite, a special kind of shotgun—a fully-automatic one.

It held a boxy clip of 15 shells, and could fire a burst of three shells at a time.

Mark examined a floor map on the wall, and started heading forward, keeping the EMP emitter handy for the cameras.

Mace Daniels stepped into the hallway, her eyes murderous. Watching the tech get eaten did nothing for her mood, but the information he gave kept her moving. The main hall was in this direction, but the tech had mentioned the biologics that were roaming the halls.

She didn't mind. She would simply overlay Natla's face on each creature and send it to hell.

She yanked back the bolt on the gun as she heard the skittering of claws on concrete, and smiled a ghastly smile. "Come get some, right here," she whispered, as the first of many corpses-to-be bounded around a corner and ran straight for her.

Mark paused, then checked the floor map near him. The main laboratory was only a few meters away, to the right. He dropped the empty clip in his pack, grabbing the fourth one and slapping it in. Hunting season was open, and he had bagged many creatures on his way here. He knew he was going to be seeing some of them in the weeks to come, crawling out of the darkness in his dreams.

"All right...let's see what is so important in here."

He slipped inside, closing the door behind him, and turning around...

...and stopped.

Around him, in a four-foot square around the doorway, was a dotted line separating him from the main floor of the enormous laboratory.

Large pods were arranged in four lines, running the length of the room.

Each of them held Lara Croft. Clones, of course, but there were so MANY of them...hundreds of naked Crofts, as far as the eye could see.

Mark was aware his mouth had dropped open, and not for the fact that Lara's prodigious cleavage was natural, after all. The sheer size of the lab was mind-boggling.

Then he heard the whine of servomotors, and turned to see three automatons moving towards him. The caretakers, Mark surmised, then stepped back, his eyes widening as each robot extended three needles in his direction.

Mark yanked up the MM-1 grenade launcher and fired three times, diving behind a nearby console as the explosions echoed through the lab, shattering four of the pods and turning what they held into ground hamburger.

Mark poked his head out, smiled as he saw the broken wrecks, and the smile froze on his face as he spotted a message coming up on the computer console.

* +Emergency Resuscitation+-

* +REVIVE ALL CLONES+-

"Ah, hell..." he whispered, as the first of hundreds opened her eyes.

He looked down at the console. "There's got to be a way to..."

Then he saw it.

An overlay of the clone structure came up, with a series of commands being uploaded to what looked like some kind of control device.

"Eliminate intruder..." came a low moan from the pods. A communal whisper.

Damn! I'm going to be chased down by hundreds of naked women, and I'm not going to enjoy it one bit...! Mark tried typing in commands, trying to shut down the process. He heard a hand grab the ladder leading up to the console area, and frantically tried to stop the computer.

"Eliminate intruder," came a voice directly in front of him, a strangely familiar voice.

Mark looked up and shot Lara Croft right between the eyes. As the body dropped like a dirty shirt, he raised the grenade launcher and fired six grenades, spaced evenly, into the main laboratory floor. They detonated, the flechettes ripping into the pods and killing everything around them.

Most of the clones died in the initial strike. Those that escaped the blasts were cut down as Mark moved forward, blasting everything that moved. He emptied two clips of shotgun shells killing the few survivors that remained.

As Mark walked back up to the console, his pants stained with dark blood, he noticed a message.

-+Is Intruder Dead?+-

Mark typed in YES.

+LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE.+ came the reply, and that's when the screen cleared, another message flashing on the screen: +EMERGENCY STERILIZATION IN PROGRESS.+

Mark turned to see ports opening all over the ceiling and fluted pipes protruding from the metal.

Pipes with pilot lights.

Lara 1.1 was beginning to worry.

The panthers were long since dead, and so were a horde of other misshapen creatures, but she didn't know where to go next and she was running dangerously low on ammunition. Plus, she was bleeding in several places, mostly shallow gashes, but one or two of them were coated with a green froth and were beginning to fester. Lara 1.1 sat down to rest for a few seconds, ignoring the pain of her wounds and considering what to do next. The initial enjoyment was wearing off and now Lara 1.1 was starting experience fear, for herself and the others. Not knowing what was going on with Mace, Mark and Lara was intolerable and she couldn't help but wonder if coming here was a grave mistake.

Then she heard a voice reverberate through the hallway she occupied. "LARA 1.1, YOU HAVE BEEN A VERY BAD LITTLE GIRL."

Lara 1.1 looked up and snarled, "You lied to me!"

"OF COURSE I LIED TO YOU, LARA 1.1. YOU WOULDN'T HAVE DONE WHAT I TOLD YOU IF YOU KNEW THAT YOU WEREN'T THE REAL LARA."

"You used me!"

"OF COURSE I USED YOU...YOU WERE USEFUL. EVERYONE IS USEFUL TO ME, IN SOME SHAPE OR FORM. BUT DON'T FRET, DEAR LITTLE CLONE. IF YOU'RE WORRYING ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS, YOU'LL SEE THEM AGAIN SOON ENOUGH."

"Why don't you...!"

"COMMAND CODE ALPHA ONE, LARA 1.1, GO TO SLEEP."

Lara 1.1 suddenly felt her mind swim and a sudden rush of fatigue and exhaustion. Her eyelids felt heavier than battleships and she slumped to the ground before she could say what she wanted Jacqueline Natla to do. A second later, she was unconscious.

"TSK, TSK, CLONE. HOW EASILY YOU FORGOT THAT I MADE YOU WHAT YOU ARE...AND CAN EASILY UNMAKE YOU IF IT SUITS ME. BUT NOT YET...NOT YET." Natla reached out from the operating table where she lay and tapped a button. "Guards, you will find Lara 1.1 on Sub-Level B, Area 48. Take here to the Main Control Room at Area 89 and wait for further instructions." She lay back and looked down at herself.

Below her waist, bio-mechanical creatures were hard at work bonding a shapely pair of female human legs to her hips, knitting bone and tissue like adept seamstresses. Natla winced a little at the pain, but she was preparing for her greatest achievement in the space of an hour, and the last thing she wanted to do was feel drugged, so she made sure that the operation took place with only the most minimal of anesthetics and pain-killers.

Besides...in a strange, detached way, she didn't mind the pain...the sight of her creations manipulating her body fascinated her. Dead and useless tissues were eaten and digested, giving her creations the energy to refit her spinal cord to accept the grafts and coordinate the nervous system in the OMA, what Natla termed an Organic Mobility Assist. With it, she would be able to walk again.

And so much more.

Natla smiled. A few more minutes and she would be ready to remake the world the way it should be... progressive and constantly changing. The human race would be forced to adapt to their new world and the new predators, the weak dying to allow the survival of the strong. The environment itself would fight to preserve its own sanctity, growing and surviving at an incredible rate. Natla made a mental note to track the re-growth of the rainforests when her new plants would begin augmenting the natural growth.

"My new world...some God YOU are," she said to the ceiling. "It took you only seven days to create the world, but it will take me much less than that to RE-create it. You sat up there as the world was destroyed by greed and avarice, your creations driven to extinction. Well, Big Guy, it's my turn." She looked at a digital countdown clock over her head. "In fifty-two minutes, you're going to be fired, and I'M going to take over. So clean out your desk, pal...there's a new Supreme Being in the works. Too bad, and only a few days before your Son's birthday. Well, being unemployed, you've got more time to be with your son, don't you?"

She reached out and tapped another button, bringing her to the view of the hallway where the original Lara was waiting for the elevator to get to her before the David-thing could. Her enjoyment increased as Lara threw lead at the creature, watching it absorb the damage and relentlessly approach Lara Croft. Natla watched as the creature went right up to Lara and start to absorb her as well!

Down in the corridor, Lara fought the urge to retch as the David-thing moved into her and around her. Where it's skin touched her, she felt her nerves go numb and her muscles go slack. Lara's eyes widened as she saw the David-thing's face coming closer and closer to her own, and finally, her nerve broke and she screamed as the David-thing absorbed all of her into its mass, her mind going black as she saw the creature's mockery of a face before her. Inside her mind, she kept shrieking IT'S NOT DAVID IT'S NOT DAVID IT'S NOT IT'S NOT IT'S NOT!!!! staying on the ragged edge of hysteria. Only her strong will kept her from going crazy as she descended into blackness.

Natla's voice came over the intercom to that hallway. "TAKE HER TO THE MAIN CONTROL ROOM AND WAIT FOR ME," she said as she disengaged the locks on the elevator, allowing it to descend at last. "Now then...let's check on dear Mace Daniels." She pushed a button and Mace Daniels appeared. Something in her eyes made Natla think of an animal, raging through the corridor. She was finishing off a vicious-looking creature with a burst of gunfire. Natla examined the placement of the camera and found she was nearing the elevator 'her' David was taking Lara. She watched patiently, waiting to see what was going to happen.

Mace turned the corner in time to see the blob moving into the elevator.

She pulled back, checked her pistol, then turned to draw a bead on it.

She was a split-second from firing when she saw the unconscious form of Lara Croft's head and neck as the blob crammed itself through the elevator door.

She swore silently, out of fear and wonder. She didn't dare take a chance on shooting that thing, but she wasn't going to leave her alone.

The door closed and she ran to it, grabbing a fire axe as she did and swung, the hard tempered steel biting into the elevator door. Something shorted inside, and the doors opened with a grinding sound. She dropped the axe, then looked up to see the elevator cab rising.

Only one chance to make this...

She coiled into a crouch, then sprang upward, her fingers grasping for and gripping a strut below the cab. She swung up, slipping into a small platform under the cab, laying back, and exhaled loudly. "Safe."

"Not quite," Natla said with a smile. She touched the intercom, then said, "Flood the elevator shaft in Sector #7 with nitrous oxide and meet my creation at the elevator at Area 89. Remove the woman under the elevator and bring her to the Main Control Room."

Mark looked up and saw the blossoming heat of the flamethrowers. He turned towards the sealed door, saw no way out, then saw some of the broken pods with other flamethrower nozzles coming down into the pods themselves, torching the occupants still inside.

An idea came to him just as the flamethrowers over his head ignited.

Natla shut off the intercom, then checked her computer console. "Now, where was..."

Her voice trailed off as she spotted the red indicator in Lab #27. Her frown deepened as she read the bulletins.

Mark had found the Croft-clones...and had destroyed countless numbers of them already Natla read about how the tissue samples were destroyed as she triggered the failsafe after getting the phony reply to her question. "Idiot...all my creations refer to me as 'Mistress'..." The creatures patted her soothingly as they sensed her endorphin levels rising. Natla calmed herself. No mortal man or woman could live through that hellfire for more than a split second. Better to handle Mark Donovan this way...I can always re-grow more Lara-clones, given time, and I can be sure that HE will know what Hell feels like before he gets there.

She found relief in the slow dismantling of her former hip muscle, and decided to check on David.

She opened a window in the computer screen, and saw a display of David, still secured. Two loyal technicians were attending to his needs, one examining a clipboard while the other kept track of the machine monitoring his vital signs. "Prepare for visitors. I will be joining you, as well."

"Understood," one of the techs replied.

She wheeled herself out of the room and headed for the deepest level of her base.

Lara awoke slowly, swimming through a haze of cotton towards the light ahead, and finally broke through to consciousness.

What she saw made her wonder if it was worth the trip.

Before her sat a smug-looking Jacqueline Natla, seated in a motorized wheelchair in front of a vast computer console, over which was a literal wall of monitors. Each had a picture of either a large holding pen full of assorted biological monstrosities or canisters with the wicked-looking BIOHAZARD symbol stamped on the sides. At the bottom of the screen were the names of capitals and major ports around the world, more than eighty in all. Lara turned to the left to see Mace Daniels, snarling like a chained pit bull and held in place by two barely human powerhouses. To her right, Lara 1.1 stood there with a venomous look etched on her face as she strained at the chains attached to the floor and her wrists. Mark Donovan was nowhere to be seen.

"Welcome back, Lara...it's so nice to see you again without requiring the use of a computer screen," Natla said cordially. "Normally I'd stand up to greet you, but as you can see, having a pyramid dropped on you has a detrimental effect on your ability to run a marathon."

"Bark at the moon, Natla!" Lara snarled. "If I didn't feel like I'd been dipped in Novocaine..."

"Ah, but you do, don't you?" Natla wheeled a bit closer. "And I know for a fact that you'd try your level best to rip my lungs out. But then, you'd have to stand in line." She pressed a button on her chair and a metal door opened in the floor. A chair rose through the opening, revealing...

"DAVID!!!" Lara yelled as she saw the form of David Connors rising through the floor, police-issue striptape around his feet, legs, arms and hands. He was unconscious.

"Yes...the real McCoy, this time, as opposed to the gelatinous mass holding you prisoner. Since this IS going to be the last day of your lives, the least I should do is let you both see each other before you die." Natla wheeled over to David's limp form and extended a hand, a small rod within her grasp. A thin bolt of electricity hit David in the ear and he jerked awake, looking around him wildly, then focusing on Lara.

"LARA!!" he yelled in shock and relief, then saw the double chained to the floor. "Lara??"

"She's the one," Lara 1.1 said, nodding her head at the original. "I'm the copy."

"Where's Mark??" Mace demanded.

"Well, Mr. Donovan is now doing his impression of a charcoal briquette, so I don't think he'll be joining us," Natla quipped.

"You insidious, back-stabbing, take-it-in-the-rear-for-a-quick-thrill BITCH!!" Mace said acidly.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mace." Lara said with equal acid.

Natla frowned. "I can't believe it. You've all LOST, and here you are, still making threats."

"We're not dead YET, 'Fatla'." Lara 1.1 spat.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your mother, Lara 1.1?" Natla grinned. "In any case, since you all went to the trouble of getting here, I suppose you're wondering about Project: Pandora." Jacqueline Natla wheeled to the console and withdrew a laser pointer, pointing it at the screens. "Inside each of the Atlantic Company's plants, all eighty-one of them, is a veritable mob of animals, plants and micro-organisms ready to be unleashed upon the world, stimulating human development by the use of forced survival. A new generation of man will rise and flourish, adapting to their new, more hostile environment, and I shall rise above it all as this new race's Mistress. The Earth shall be renewed as all modern devices, except my own, will be struck with a computer virus transmitted all over the world, attacking everything more complex than a toaster and destroying all of man's failed attempts to control his world through technology. Think about it...no more pollutants, no more destruction of the sanctity of the Earth. And you'll have to think about it, too, since you all won't live to see this new world of mine."

Natla tapped a command into the computer and it responded, "+Five minutes until Pandora's Box is opened.+"

"Now, to make sure that nothing can stop this plan from taking effect, the computers are encoded with Atlantean code, more sophisticated than the binary code used in normal computers. If anyone even manages to crack the code, which I doubt, any commands sent to the plants' computers will be ignored, since the commands will only be accepted at a single, five-second long moment in time. Perfect, wouldn't you say?" She wheeled a few inches closer to a large red button. "When this button flashes at the end of the countdown, you'll all see the end of the world as you know it. Terribly theatrical, I know, but I figure that the changing of an era in the world's history requires some pomp and fanfare, wouldn't you?"

"+Three minutes until Pandora's Box is opened.+" the computer droned mindlessly.

"And to top it all off, Lara Croft...you'll be here to see what you postponed more than a year ago. And you can't stop me now."

"And what do you plan to do with us after you hit that button?" David asked, a sudden display of interest showing in his face.

"You, Mace Daniels and Lara 1.1 get invited to dinner with one of my special pets. As for you, Lara Croft...I shall have the distinct pleasure of making more clones of you, and then disposing of them in any way I see fit. Or perhaps I'll make them slaves, fit only for my dirtiest, most wretched jobs. The possibilities, like my intellect, are endless. The original I'll keep around...but in one of my stasis chambers. I'll remove your ability to move permanently, but leave you completely aware as I implant a pain amplifier to the pain center of your brain. You'll never scream, but all I'll need to do..."

"+Two minutes until Pandora's Box is opened.+"

"...is look into your eyes to see the pain there. Oh, you'll live for a very long time, forever, if I can see to it...but then, Hell is always an eternal thing."

"You've picked the devil's own task upon yourself, Natla." Lara warned.

"We'll see how cocky you are when you feel as if open flame is applied to every nerve in your body. Console yourself with this, if you can. I offered a great deal of power to David, as my consort and right hand. He turned me down, if you can believe it. Choosing death rather than join me..." Natla shook her head. "Such stupidity astounds me."

"Not stupidity, Jacqueline Natla. Just good taste," David said snidely. "Besides, you'd be no good in bed."

"Oh, really?" Natla smiled, then stood up and left her chair, walking forward, then pirouetting twice. "For my genius, David..."

"+One minute until Pandora's Box is opened.+"

"...nothing is impossible. NOTHING." Natla sighed. "Say your goodbyes now, kids...in one minute, you'll be utterly speechless."

Lara turned to David. "David..." she began, then stopped. Tears budded in her eyes.

"I know, Lara...I know. But don't lose hope. We're not quite dead yet."

"Easy for you to say," Mace said tiredly. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. Mace Daniels."

"David Connors. Normally I'd shake hands, but..." He chuckled.

"Such hopeful ideals. You must be quite entertaining at parties..." Natla looked up as the countdown passed forty seconds. She walked back to the console, standing right next to the button and holding her palm over it. "Well, folks. It's been a pleasure defeating you. It's a shame I'll never again find adversaries as formidable as yourselves."

00:00:30

"One thing, before you press that button, Natla," Lara 1.1 said quickly.

"What?"

00:00:27

"What happens if you DON'T press it in that five seconds?"

00:00:25

"Then the failsafes kick in. After all, if something happens and I can't get to the button, I'd rather not be caught breeding monsters and biohazards..."

00:00:19

"...so I made sure that I can't be implicated with little things like lawsuits and police." Natla shrugged. "Not that I'd need it, but I am a creature of habit. I like to be prepared for everything."

00:00:12

"I'd like to say something, too," David said, a strange intensity in his voice. "Hi, Mark."

00:00:09

Natla frowned. "'Hi, Mark'?? Why on earth would you say that?"

00:00:06

"Because he's right behind you."

Natla stared at David, then turned around and had just enough time to see Mark Donovan standing behind her, a grenade launcher grasped in his hands, his eyes hard and murderous.

The moment of hesitation at seeing him alive gave Mark plenty of time to swing the stock of the grenade launcher around, knocking Natla off her feet and carrying her away from the console. Natla's eyes went wide and she tumbled, landing hard on her hands and knees. She tried to get to her feet, but Mark was there, like an evil shadow, and swung again, the hard metal connecting with Natla's skull and dropping her to her knees again.

00:00:00

The console made a long, subdued +beeeeep+, and Natla looked up. The button was flashing.

She scrambled forward from her knees to her feet, but someone's leg got in her way when she got close to the console and she fell again. She tried once more to rise...

+00:00:04

"NOOO!!!" Natla shrieked as she reached out for the button, but it was three inches too far away. She stared at the clock as it hit

+00:00:05.

The computer screen flashed a new message:

PANDORA'S BOX SIGNAL NOT TRANSMITTED

NOW COMMENCING EMERGENCY STERILIZATION PROCEDURES

Natla pulled herself to her feet and slammed her palm down on the button, but the computer was beyond her control now. Each of the screens showed the creatures covered with superheated flame and the biohazard tanks emptying their contents into acid tanks. All over the world, Natla's creations were going up in smoke.

She turned around and a heavy-caliber pistol was shoved into her ear, an arm around her neck, and Mark's hot breath in her ear. "Surprise, surprise," Mark said quietly. "I'll bet you REALLY hate me right now."

"HOW...?!?!" asked Natla for the second time. "You were incinerated! I saw you!!"

"Not quite. I bet you saw the flames...but you didn't see me getting into one of the intact pods and shooting the pod's flamer with my pistol. I wondered at first why you'd put a flamethrower inside the pods, but it came to me...the pods were made fireproof as a safety measure to protect them from any unwanted outside heat. As soon as I disabled the flamer inside and closed the pod, I wasn't even warm. I should thank you for your architectural acumen."

"YOU...BASTARD!!!"

"Unh-unh-unh," Mark cautioned, pulling the hammer back. "I am sure you're very angry right now...but I can promise you, at this point, you are as close to death as you'll ever be."

"DAVID 1.1! KILL LARA!!!" Natla yelled.

Lara felt herself being drawn back into the creature. The David-thing smiled, licking its lips, then felt something placed on the back of his head. It turned its head to see David standing next to him, smiling. "Buster, you're about to have a splitting headache."

The David-thing frowned, then lost its expression as the tiny shaped-charge sent an explosion right through the back of its head, staining David's shirt. Natla stared at the beheaded creature as it lost cohesion, melting to the floor and releasing its hold on Lara. She felt the sensation return to her body and she got up, far too angry to be disgusted.

The two creatures holding Mace, completely distracted by the sight of David getting out of his chair and smoothly beheading their comrade, gave Mace the break she needed. She hauled a hand out of the grasp of the creature on the left, using it to slam her palm into the bridge of the nose of the creature on the right, sending a spray of bones into the thing's brain. The other humanoid grasped her remaining wrist tightly with both hands, but all that did was give Mace enough leverage to promptly beat the hell out of the thing's face, ribs, stomach and groin with her free hand. Rapid-fire punches delivered with deadly accuracy left Mace free of her captors and the humanoids dead on the floor.

Natla was almost speechless. "But...but..."

"Oh, I didn't come here directly...I made a stop at David's little hidey-hole. After I cut his bonds, then re-attached them to look like they were still intact, I gave him a small charge set to go off a two-second delay, to get that Jell-O-head off Lara's case." He slid his gaze to David momentarily. "Nice job, pal...now I know why Lara hangs out with you."

"Thanks." David set to work on Lara's bonds.

Mark let Natla loose after whispering, "Don't try anything foolish. Remember that this gun can punch through your skull like a ripe cantaloupe."

She turned on him. "Who are you, Mark Donovan? WHAT are you?" she growled.

Mark grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her close enough to kiss, his eyes boring into Natla's. What she saw there chilled her to the bone, the curses dying unsaid.

What she saw in those eyes was ancient. Natla knew, somehow, that what looked out from those dark eyes was much older than Mark's apparent age...maybe even as old as Time itself.

"I have friends who were when the best part of you was still staining your daddy's sheets. They've forgotten more than you've ever learned, HONEY. You thought you were God? Well, you're not the deity you think you are...you're not even in the ballpark." The smile he gave Natla removed the bravado in her face, replacing it with doubt...and a calmness he didn't like. "Now, sit right down there, with your hands under your legs. If you make trouble one more time, it'll be the last time you make trouble for anyone. I promise you that."

As Natla sat down, Mark said, "How are you doing, Mace?"

"Like hell...but I'll live." She was slowly getting her bearings back and rubbing her wrists. "Better off than THOSE two," she added, pointing to the bodies on the floor.

Mark nodded. "David?"

"Better than I've been in DAYS. I've had enough of life as a guest of Chez Natla." David finished removing the chains from Lara 1.1's wrists, then went over to Lara. "Still with me, sunshine?"

"Always..." Lara wiped her face, then realized that since her entire body was covered with the goop, it didn't help at all. "David...before anything else happens, I have to tell you something." Lara reached up and cupped David's face, ignoring the slight -squish- her hands made on his cheeks. "David, I love you...and I am bloody tired..."

"No foolin'."

"Hush, David. I'm going to have my say before something else tries to kill me or I lose my nerve. David...I think now...I'm ready for something more serious than having you as just my partner...and my friend."

David reached up and took her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes.

"Lara...I..."

Mark shook his head, turned back to Natla and his jaw dropped. "DAMN!!!!!!" he yelled and the others jerked, startled, turning to look.

Natla was gone.

"THAT is the LAST FUCKING TIME I allow the people I work with to get romantic in the middle of an operation!!" Mark turned to the others. "We've gotta bolt, NOW!"

Mace swore and looked around. "We're going to have the whole base right on top of us in a few minutes!"

"Not unless Natla has a silent alarm." David looked around. "I've come to know Natla during my little visit here...she's far too dramatic to do anything like an alarm silently."

"Why not?" Lara 1.1 asked.

David looked around. "Because she's still around here somewhere. She's not escaping, and considering that she's outnumbered five to one, I think it's safe to say that Natla knows something we don't."

"Hell! These megalomaniacs are capable of anything!" Mark checked the grenade launcher. "Four shots left. About thirty shots left in my pistols. Lara...Jones?"

"Yes?"

"Did you see where they put your gear?"

"No...I was out like a light and I woke up unarmed. Lara?"

"The same. David?"

"I didn't see anything until Mark showed up and cut me loose."

"Shit." Mark looked around. "Alright, let's just get the hell out of here."

"It's much too late for that, Mr. Donovan." Mark turned to see Natla's face poking around the side of the console on the far end, smiling at them. "Miss me?"

Mark raised the grenade launcher as the others tensed in alarm. "Not THIS time I won't..."

Then Natla came out from behind the console and Mark let the muzzle of the launcher lower as he saw what Natla had become.

From the waist up, she still looked the same, wearing her business suit, not a thread out of place...but from the waist down, she wore the body of an enormous black widow spider, twenty feet across, with large, spindly legs and a scarlet hourglass on her belly. A pair of curved stingers sprouted from just below her waist, dripping clear yellow fluid that ate into the floor where it touched the metal. She opened her arms wide. "What do you think? Increased speed, high resistance to damage...not even that toy you're carrying, Mr. Donovan, will hurt me now. Feel free to use it, if it makes you feel any better...but in the end, you will all DIE."

Mark looked up, and said six words.

"Come on, witch...Hell's always open."

Mace, David, Lara and Lara 1.1 bolted, running in all directions as Mark raised the grenade launcher. Natla went after him first, seeming to drip venom from her mouth as well as the stingers in her torso. Mark fired and Natla raised a foreleg, intercepting the grenade in mid-flight and detonating it. Natla's smile grew wider as Mark saw the damaged leg regenerate right before his eyes, but unlike Natla, Mark was not one given to standing still while experiencing shock. He ran to one side and dodged the other foreleg that threatened to impale him through the stomach, as if Natla was getting revenge for all the bugs ever pinned under glass for the sake of Science.

Mark's mind raced, coolly gauging Natla's reaction speed. Even under pressure, Mark thought like a machine when it came to combat; calm, alert and assessing his adversary. This time, however, an answer to THIS opponent was not forthcoming, so Mark's main priority was simply not getting hit.

Lara 1.1 had moved away, then ran for the door and kneeled down in front of it. It was a complex keypad, used for many doors in Natla's plants, but Lara 1.1's passcode wouldn't open the doors! She concentrated on other possible combinations, but none of them would work...

"LARA TWO, HEADS UP!!"

David's yell brought Lara 1.1's head up to see Natla bearing down on her with blinding speed for her size. Before she could jump away the front forelegs reached out for her, manifesting spindly, three-fingered hands that grasped Lara 1.1 firmly, pulling her towards the stingers. Mace saw the clone's predicament and launched into a powerful flying kick at Natla's bulging abdomen, hitting her squarely but availing nothing.

Natla's mouth opened in an orgasmic smile as one of the stinger's plunged into Lara 1.1's midsection, dispensing a heavy load of sulfurous venom into her. Lara 1.1's mouth opened wide as her tongue swelled between her jaws, blood gushing from her nose and ears. Natla opened her eyes again and screeched in triumph, throwing the clone's body behind her and looking around for another target. Her eyes found Mace and she started to move towards, then saw David out of the corner of her eye and turned to her right.

David took careful aim and hit Natla right in one of the stingers.

The hollowpoint round punched a wide hole in the stinger and continued on through to the poison sac just behind it, Causing Natla to wince, but only just. Poison gushed from the wound, covering the floor where she stood and beginning to slow eat away at the floor itself. "Nice try, David, but I took the precaution of making myself immune to the effects of my own poison. Like all my creations, my new form is much tougher than you think. But since you have caused me some pain, David..." Natla approached David and he sprinted away, but Natla was just a little faster and she began to close the distance.

Mark knelt over Lara 1.1, still convulsing. Despite the large amount of poison, the nature of the venom would not let Lara 1.1 die quickly or painlessly. "...Mar..." she gurgled, her eyes rolling in her skull. "...eez...illl... meee..."

Shades of Mark's wife, Alixandra, appeared in his mind. "Not again..." he swore. "You don't get out of this that easily, Lara Jones!" He placed a hand over the wound and concentrated hard, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. He could feel the toxin within her, could feel its very nature. A golden light surrounded him and the purple color drained away from Lara 1.1's face. Her tongue returned to its normal state as the poison went out of her body.

Mark opened his eyes and, for a moment, Lara 1.1 could see dual-pupilled eyes looking at her. Then mark turned to the side and threw up, yellowish fluid coming out of him in a torrent that splashed over the floor...the same yellow color as the venom.

Lara 1.1 sat up as Mark spit the last of the stuff from his mouth, wiping his face with his sleeve.Trickster, wherever you are, I owe you one, Mark thought, turning back to Lara 1.1. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"

"I...yes, I think so." Lara got up and looked around. "How did you do that?"

"Let's just say that Natla isn't the only one who's had contact with aliens. LONG story. Come on, we've got to help the others."

Lara 1.1 nodded and they both rounded the computer console to assess the situation.

David was still playing hopscotch with Natla, playing a bizarre game of tag. Natla would chase Lara, then Mace, then David, then Mace again, then Lara again. Natla was obviously enjoying herself, moving from person to person. Now that Mark wasn't involved in combat, he could see Natla's plan. "She's toying with us...she knows that she can catch us at any time, and she's keeping everyone away from the main doors."

"Then what is she doing?" Lara 1.1 asked, then it came to her. "She's just trying to tire us out!"

"Yeah, and then she can dispose of us at her leisure. SHIT!"

"Can't you just heal everyone else the way you did me?"

"Nope. I can barely even consider trying again...that took a lot out of me. I don't know if I'll be able to survive another try."

David caught sight of them and waited until Natla was chasing Mace again, then ran over to where Mark and Lara 1.1 were hiding. He didn't attempt to ask how the clone survived. "Mark! Give me your other gun and start shooting everything you've got at the poison sacs!"

"Why?? She'll just heal up...!"

"No time to argue, just DO it!"

Mark tossed David the other gun and turned to Lara 1.1. "Try to get us a way out of here...I'll try to distract Natla long enough for you to get through."

"And what'll you do?"

"Hope David has a plan! Go!"

Mark ran out into the fray and took aim, Lara 1.1 moving back behind the console and searching wildly for another way out.

"Hey, bitch!!"

Natla turned at David's voice, that smile still on her lips. "Not now, insect. I'm busy."

"What would you say if I told you that you'd made a SERIOUS error in judgement?"

"Then I'd say you were a fool and a liar."

David hauled out the pistols Mark had given him and threw one to Lara, emptying the clip in three-round bursts at the poison sacs, causing punctures that spilled more of the yellow fluid all over the floor. Lara saw what David was doing and mimicked him, shooting at the same place.

Natla stood there and laughed, a high, mad laughter that chilled David to the core. "Go ahead, worms! Empty your weapons! It won't make one damn bit of good! I can easily regenerate the poison you try to spill, and the acidic nature of the venom will only make your ability to avoid me that much less! Face it...it's hopeless, and we both know it!"

"Mark!" Lara 1.1 called, and Mark turned to the source. It was difficult to see Lara 1.1 through the haze of the venom spills, but he could see what appeared to be a hole in the side of the wall. As soon as he saw the clone wave, he turned back to the people trying to dodge Natla.

"PEOPLE, WE ARE LEAVING!!!" he yelled, bolting for the opening.

David nodded, running towards the console. "Ladies, run for it!!"

"There's nowhere you can run from me!!" Natla yelled, turning towards the fleeing humans. One of them stopped just before reaching the side, waiting for the others. As Lara trailed the pack, she stopped as David waved to her.

"David, hadn't we better go?!"

"Nope. There's still the matter of HER," he said quickly, drawing out a Zippo lighter and handing it to her, then yelling to Natla, "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"

Natla stopped reflexively, then looked down at David through the white haze. "And why should I?"

"Because if you didn't, you wouldn't appreciate me telling you where you screwed up!"

Natla thought, What can they possibly do? They've exhausted their ammunition and the floor is nearly a pool of venom. "Pray go on, Mr. Connors...you amuse me."

"With all the work you put into your creations, not to mention your new bod...I suppose you made it the same way you made your other creatures?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't I? I do my work perfectly. It will do you no good to stall, David, there's no escape."

"Oh, you're right about that...but I think you have your tactics wrong. You're standing in your own venom, aren't you? In fact, your entire lower body is soaked with it."

"So? The venom can't hurt me, I made it that way."

"In its current state, no...and that's where the flaw comes in. Lara, if you please, show Natla the light."

Lara Croft coughed at the vapors in the air, and suddenly understood. She raised the lighter. "Natla...oh, bugger it, I can't think of any witty lines...wait, hold it, I have one. Natla?"

"This grows tiresome, WHAT???" she asked, irritated.

"You're fired," she said, and lit the lighter, tossing it into the venom and running like crazy behind the console, David in hot pursuit.

And then things got considerably hotter.

The lighter touched off the venom and lit it like gasoline. David and Lara had surmised correctly; Natla had chosen to make the venom based upon a sulfuric acid...and sulfuric acid was FLAMMABLE.

As the fire exploded through the room, Natla realized that her creatures DID have a weakness after all. She had built it into them herself. She had made them vulnerable to open flames!

Then the inferno touched off her body and she felt her body catch fire. She had engineered her new torso to keep herself from feeling pain, but the REST of her body was just as vulnerable as the rest of her. She tried to race after them, but her legs folded like straws and she fell heavily to the floor, her upper body landing fully into a pool of burning, acidic venom.

Lara would've loved to see the final death of the woman who had plagued her for so long, but her sense of self-preservation was far too strong to allow her that luxury. She hustled herself through the duct, along with the others who were making a fast break themselves. David, in the rear, looked back as he saw the result of the exploding gases pushing through the vent opening and coming straight for them! "We've got a problem back here!"

"Don't worry!" Lara 1.1 called back. "Just keep moving!"

David's eyes went as wide as serving platters as he saw the cloud of fire coming right towards him...and then a steel plate slammed down a foot behind him, sealing off the vent. David saw the steel redden and some paint flake off, but the firestorm had been thwarted. He stopped, his breath hard and raspy. "You knew that would happen?"

"Fire retardation measure. Contains fire and keeps it from spreading to the other areas," Lara 1.1 said breathlessly. "It won't hold it off for too long, the anti-fire countermeasures weren't made for a fire this large, this deep...and it'll be greedy for oxygen and flammable materials. If it spreads through the other three vents to the labs, or the reactor..."

"Hiroshima?" Mace asked, oddly calm and composed.

"Very likely...only bigger. The reactor isn't a nuclear reactor, not the way you're thinking."

Mark stared at Lara 1.1 HARD. "Enlighten us."

"Picture an artificially-created yellow star the size of a basketball, contained in a field of intense gravity."

"And if it something goes wrong?"

"Worst-case scenario?"

"I think this qualifies, yes."

"Everything within a mile radius is subjected to a thirty-G tidal spike, which then creates a tidy cylindrical crater large enough to contain the explosion. Since this part of the plant is below the ocean floor, it'll cause an underwater volcano to erupt...and then Trinidad will likely lose their tourist trade until the year 2000, but the island will end up being much bigger as the lava cools. Fishing will be in the privy, though."

"Judas PRIEST!!" David swore. "I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think the plate behind me is melting! Could we possibly start moving again?!?"

They all came out into a corridor with red lights flashing and a loud klaxon going off to their right. They didn't see anyone else around as they exited they vent. David came out quickly. "Would you guys hurry it up, I think my ass is on fire!!"

As he got down, Lara looked at his rear. "Maybe a little singed, luv, but you'll be alright."

"Okay, so we killed the Bad Guy, excuse me, Bad Girl...NOW what? The whole place is on alert right now, and I didn't run into enough human guards to steal anything good. We're down to a few grenades. How do we get out of here?"

"Wait," Mark said quickly. "I think I know the way to go." He took off down the corridor. Mace followed after, with David and the two Laras bringing up the rear. As they ran, a mild modulated voice came over the public-address system: "+ALERT. ALERT. FIRE WARNING IN MAIN CONTROL ROOM. ALL SAFETY SYSTEMS COMPROMISED. REPORT TO ASSIGNED ESCAPE TUNNELS FOR IMMEDIATE EVACUATION.+"

"Escape tunnels..." Mark turned to Lara 1.1, who nodded. Both of them turned right and headed off down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Lara Croft yelled.

"Natla's private chambers!" Mark yelled back.

"WHAT?!?"

"Trust me!!!"

There were four guards in front of the armored door, armed to the teeth.

They waited for Natla to arrive so they could arrange for her departure.

When a woman walked towards them, they made the sudden and erroneous assumption that it was Natla, which made things easier for Mace. Before they drew their guns, Mace drew Mark's grenade launcher and fired. The blast pushed her back ten feet and vaporized the door, turning the guards into a thick red mist.

Mark moved to Mace and assisted her to her feet. "Are you all right? You were supposed to fire from farther back!"

"Oh, don't worry...it felt much better."

"Well, Wyatt Earp, I hope you didn't frag up too much in there!" Mark yelled, then walked forward towards the half-open door.

The room within was spacious, ornate, and had no business in a biohazard facility. "David, check the rear of the room. Lara...and Lara...check the walls. Mace, guard the hallway, and use the grenade launcher if you have to. You have one shot left, though. I'll check the desk."

"What are we looking for?"

"Natla's back door. From what I've seen, she's got to have some sort of back door."

David nodded, and the team went to work on the room.

As Mark examined the drawers, he found various documents and papers he felt worthy of taking with him. A shudder in the walls and floor reminded him not to spend too much more time on the drawers. He found a small floor safe, and went to work on it.

"Found something!" Lara 1.1 called out, and David and the other Lara went to investigate. The three of them examined the wall next to the small three-dimensional display unit, opening it to find a small stairway leading down.

"I'll go check it out," David said, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"Not without ME, you're not," Lara Croft said immediately, then darted down the passage before David could say no. He followed, shaking his head. The stairway went down to a door built into the side of an enormous tube. "You know what this reminds me of, David?"

"What?"

"A torpedo tube." She opened the door and looked inside. "Bingo! It may be a bit cozy, but it's our way out alright! Tell the others to get down here as soon as they can!"

Mark continued to work on the safe, then heard a satisfying click as the tumblers fell into place. He opened the safe and found a small fortune in diamonds, star sapphires, oily-looking rubies, and a thick sheaf of papers.

"What is that?" Lara 1.1 asked.

"Natla's Run-Away stash. Untraceable stones, negotiable bearer bonds, stuff she could sell to free up funds she might need to start over." Mark grabbed a small suitcase stashed under the desk and started filling it.

"Why are you doing that? The place will blow any minute!"

"Because we might need it ourselves. Go and check with Mace, see how she's doing. Tell her to beat feet back in here in one minute, no more."

Lara 1.1 nodded, then walked to the hallway door and stepped out into the corridor.

Mark checked the safe one last time, and found a hidden stud. He pushed it and a section of the ceiling opened. A round cylinder, much like a periscope, lowered to eye level.

When it opened, Mark stared. Nestled within was a circular object, one Mark recognized even though he'd never seen it before. The Scion of Atlantis.

Mark didn't hesitate. In the space of a second, he grabbed the Scion and shoved it into the suitcase, snapping it closed as Lara 1.1 and Mace came in through the door.

Mace said, "We had better go, if we're going. I felt another explosion tremor."

Mark nodded, hefting the suitcase and said, "I've got everything. Let's go."

They moved down the staircase, leaving the room behind. They arrived at the door to find David and Lara Croft standing by the door. Lara waved them on. "Up those stairs, into the seats at the top and STRAP IN. We're going to being going rather fast!"

"What is it?" Mace asked.

"Who cares, as long as it gets us out of here! Let's go, kids," Mark said cheerfully, then winced as an explosion frothed the water under the dock. "We've worn out our welcome," he said in a lower voice.

No one argued. They all piled through the door and up the stairs. When Mark got there, he went to one of the chairs and looked at the instrumentation. "What is this thing, a spaceship?"

"Not quite, but it's close," Lara said, climbing up front to the main control panel. "I recognized it from a report I saw from MI-6."

"When the hell were you at...? Oh, never mind," David said, strapping himself in. "I guess I can't be surprised..."

The entire frame shook with a mind-numbing CRRRAAAASSSSHHH!!! and Lara looked out through the windshield. "The whole cavern's caving in!!" She turned back to look, saw that everyone was inside, then hit the LAUNCH switch on the man panel.

The problem was, everyone WASN'T strapped in.

The torpedo leaped forward as if kicked by Zeus himself, screaming through the tube at high speed. Lara 1.1 flew to the rear of the cockpit and struck the metal HARD, knocked cold instantly. Mark barely hung on, in a seat but not strapped in. He tore his eyes away from the front and they caught a vidscreen on his right.

The screen showed a firestorm chasing them...and gaining on them!

"LARA...I HATE TO BE A NAG...BUT THERE'S A FIREBALL IN OUR LANE AND HE IS GOING TO TRY TO PASS US!" Mark yelled over the roar of the engines propelling them through the tunnel. "CAN'T YOU MAKE THIS THING GO ANY FASTER???"

"BACKSEAT DRIVER!!" Lara yelled back, looking forward at a bright blue spot just ahead. "BRACE YOURSELVES!!!" she yelled and wrestled the straps over her body, strapping herself in as they went through the opening into the open sea. The fireball met its match as it barreled into several thousand tons of seawater, the collision turning the fire into superheated steam. As the sea began to boil behind them, the huge torpedo began to slow and rise through the water to the open air. By the time the speed was little more than ten knots an hour, the capsule broke through the surface.

All woke up soon after the capsule had stopped moving faster than a speedy drift over the water. David woke first, shaking his head and regretting it. "Lara...can anyone hear me...?"

"I can..." moaned Mark from the floor. "Sound off, everyone. Who's alive?"

"I am, but I'm not enjoying it..." Mace said, wincing.

"Same here...OUCH...!" Lara 1.1 said, holding her left arm. "I think my arm is broken."

"I think my whole BODY is broken..." Lara murmured. "No, it isn't...it just feels that way." She got up and looked around. "I do believe that we made it..."

"Now what? How do we leave this charming little area?" Mark asked Lara.

"Simple. Everyone get back to your seats...and yes, I'll wait until everyone is strapped in this time." She pulled back on a larger switch.

Outside, the large "torpedo" began to change. Panels popped off the top and sides of the large rounded cylinder, wings and fins pivoting out from the sides and locking into position. Two jet engines unfolded from the rear. Inside, the unwanted instrumentation measuring depth and pressure slid away, making room for instruments that measured airspeed and altitude.

In a few minutes, the torpedo had become a seaplane.

"Thank God for British ingenuity. Everyone ready?"

The passengers murmured agreement as Mace finished up putting a splint on Lara 1.1's arm. The plane took off and easily climbed into the air. Lara guided the plane into a wide turn so she could look down at where they'd come from.

The far eastern edge of Trinidad was turning into a mountain of cooling ash and lava. The hotels on that side of the island was being covered with ash, but from where Lara sat, the volcano's lava flow was moving away from the island, so it was unlikely anyone would be serious hurt or put in danger. But Lara felt even better knowing that Jacqueline Natla was, at long last, dead...for good this time.

"Where to now, Lara?" Mark asked.

Lara smiled wearily. "We're going home."

"Hallelujah. I should be able to get us some cash for these." Mark opened the suitcase, holding up a fistful of precious stones. "I know a few people I can sell these to purchase a few trips home. I'm headed back to New York, see if I can get some real rest, find a home for Natla's little toy..."

Both Laras looked to Mark, immediately alert. "What 'toy?'" they asked in unison.

"I pinched the Scion of Atlantis before we bugged out of there."

"May I see it?" Lara asked Mark.

"What for?" Mark asked suspiciously.

"This wretched piece of bric-a-brac has caused ENOUGH trouble, thank you." Lara reached out for the suitcase and Mark caught her wrist.

"Hold it a second, lady..." Mark warned. "You don't want to do that."

"Take your hand off my arm, Mr. Donovan...unless you have a fondness for prosthetics."

Uh oh! David decided that now was not the time for a showdown. "Uh, guys, this isn't..."

"Dave, kindly shut up." Lara's eyes never left Mark's own. "Listen to me very carefully. Because of what this artifact can do, a great many people have died. It stops here and now, Mr. Donovan. What do YOU plan to do with it?"

"Keep anybody else from handling it ever again."

"I plan to do the same."

"I don't plan on destroying it. Believe me, where I'll put it, it'll be safe."

"I don't believe that's possible, Mr. Donovan."

"Um, Lara...maybe you'd better believe him," Lara 1.1 said carefully. "He's not exactly your average photographer."

"I don't care if he's Doctor Who fresh off the TARDIS from Gallifrey. The Scion of Atlantis is a menace and has to be eliminated for all time before someone else can use it. Now remove your hand, Mr. Donovan...or I'LL remove it."

Mark looked at Lara for a long time, then said calmly, "Lara Croft, you're going to have to trust me."

"I'm sorry, Mark Donovan...but I cannot."

Mark prepared to deliver a warning to Lara, but he was interrupted by a humming sound coming the suitcase. Both Lara and Mark looked at the case in surprise, then Mark opened it.

The Scion, lying on top of the other contents, was vibrating and glowing with an uneven, angry red. Several hundred thousand dollars' worth of bearer bonds had already burned into uselessness.

Lara looked back at Mark. "Well, Mark, you claim to be an expert on knowing what's best for the world and the Scion. Tell me...is the Scion supposed to be doing that?"

"Ah, hell...it must be destabilizing!! Now I know why Natla didn't keep it in her safe. That storage unit must've had a stasis field of some kind!" Mark grabbed the Scion, then dropped it as he realized just how HOT it was.

"SHIT!"

Lara 1.1 looked down at the Scion, then grabbed it, keeping her hand around it even as the smell of frying flesh filled the cockpit. She gritted her teeth and turned to Lara. "WHERE?" she hissed.

Lara Croft opened the back door and pointed to a square section of metal underneath a rack holding several cylinders. "There! Quickly!"

Ignoring the pain, Lara 1.1 threw the Scion. It skittered across the floor and stopped just inside the square. Lara Croft pulled a toggle switch in the cockpit and the square split open, dropping the Scion through the opening. The Scion of Atlantis fell a few hundred feet, the blew apart in a spectacular explosion of blue, green and orange fire, sending out a shockwave that rattled the seaplane like a rat in a terrier's mouth. Everything became rather confusing for a few minutes, but Lara held on tight to the controls and kept it in the air long enough for the shuddering and shaking to subside.

Lara Croft looked back to see Mace already bandaging Lara 1.1's hand and Mark rising from the floor of the plane. "It appears that the Almighty has taken that decision out of her hands, Mr. Donovan." Without waiting for Mark to comment, she turned her focus back to flying the plane. "NOW it's over," she said, relieved beyond words as she piloted the plane to the northwest, towards England and home.

EPILOGUE

"Finally..." David climbed down the ladder, stepped back and looked at the Christmas tree in the main room. That's the last one." He looked up at the fourteen-foot tall tree, laden with ornaments and filled underneath with all sorts of colorful boxes and gifts. He looked at the clock on the wall and whistled. "Only nine o'clock...not bad, Dave, not bad. Hey, Lara!!" he said, louder. "How are those cookies coming??"

Lara Croft, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt with the legend, "Kiss The Cook," and an apron, came out of the kitchen and waved to David with a oven-gloved hand. "They're already done and cooling, you slug-a-bed, what's taking YOU so long?" She smiled happily and David smiled in return, happy to see Lara relaxed and unhurried for the first time in days. After they had returned to England, Lara and David had spent the next few days, even Christmas Eve, wading through seas of last-minute shoppers for their own last-minute shopping. With luck, they were able to finish getting presents for the Croft family, as well as for some of their new friends, and had them shipped out on Emery™, to make sure that they made it to their destinations by Christmas Day.

David walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air and sighing in pleasure. "Smells WONderful, Lara. I never knew you were such a great cook. The dinner was beyond great, the ham and turkey were well done indeed...between tomb raiding and doing lectures and such, how did you ever learn to be a good cook as well?"

"It's a talent, I guess." Lara decided to keep her semesters in the Oxford cooking courses a secret, for now.

"Well, it was great...and these sugar cookies smell delicious!" David reached out to grab one and Lara lightly smacked his hand with a wooden spoon. "OW!!! Hey, what was THAT for?"

"They still have to cool off, you scoundrel. You'll have to wait."

"Oh, really?" David pointed to a bare spot on one of the cookie sheets, a spot where only the faint print of a cookie was visible. "And what happened to THAT one?"

Lara tried her best to look innocent. "Mice?"

"Yeah, right. Come on, Lara, I'm a detective, after all. You don't really think I'd miss a clue like THAT, do you?"

"Very well, you may have ONE," Lara said impishly, maintaining an exaggerated posture of generosity.

David took one, and his eyes widened. "Ouch!" he cried, dropping the cookie back on the cookie sheet. "That's HOT!"

"Why, David, how did you ever figure that out? You should be a detective." Lara reached behind her and picked up a spatula with a cookie on it, putting it back in its place, giggling. "Case solved."

"Why you mischievous...COME HERE...!" David chased Lara around the island counter while she giggled and shrieked with laughter, then ran out into the main room to escape. As she saw the tree for the first time, she stopped and gazed at it in awe. David ran out and stopped when she did.

"David...it looks BEAUTIFUL..." she whispered. "I've never seen a tree like it."

David smiled. He had gone all out to get decorations of all kinds, not just for the tree, but for the whole manor. Red ribbon and wreaths decked the halls and Mannfred had proven to be invaluable when it came to finding the right decorations for the right areas. The main hall and the rooms in the house looked like the background of a Norman Rockwell painting. "I take it that you like it, then?"

"I love it, Dave. It's perfect...it's absolutely perfect."

"Egg nog, Master David?"

David turned to see Mannfred, ever attentive, standing close by with a tray upon which rested a crystal pitcher of egg nog and two glasses. David took the tray and set it aside. "Mannfred, don't you have your own family to go home to? After all, my good man, it IS Christmas."

"Why, Master David...I AM home. You are my family."

David was so touched by Mannfred's words that he couldn't reply for a few seconds. When he could, he said softly, "You're a good man, Mannfred." Then, in a more normal voice, "Hold on...you left a glass in the kitchen. I'll be right back." He left to get Mannfred's glass.

Mannfred smiled at Lara. "He's a good chap, he is."

"All that and more, Mannfred. All that and more."

"Oh, I almost forgot. That Ms. Daniels called, wanted to wish you and David a Merry Christmas. Said that she was sending you a present you could both enjoy."

"Did she say what it would be?" Lara asked.

"No...but from the way she said it, I believe that she was sending you some clothes." The butler shrugged. "Can't imagine why she would mention that you'd both enjoy it."

"Knowing Mace, it's probably some risque, extremely scandalous piece of leather apparel."

"Oh, dear." Mannfred looked worried. "Is there any special instructions I should follow when the gift actually arrives?"

"Yes. Bring it directly to my room and don't let David see you." Lara grinned. "I want to surprise him."

Mannfred nodded, understanding. "Very good, Ms. Croft." He hushed as David came out with a third glass.

"You know, one of these days, you're going to have to show me where everything is in the kitchen. I wouldn't mind cooking up something for you guys." He poured everyone a glass, then raised his in a toast. "Here's to 1998...let us all survive it with happy memories."

"Hear, hear." Lara clinked her glass against the others. "And let our lives be just a little more lively."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Mannfred said cautiously.

"What's wrong with a little spice in our lives?" Lara asked, taking a large gulp of her egg nog...

...and spitting it out all over the floor.

Lara's hand flew to her throat. "My GOD, what is IN this drink???"

David suddenly looked both relieved and comprehending. "Gee...I guess THAT was the glass I spilled salt into..."

"DAVID CONNORS!!" Lara shrieked, outraged.

"Now, Lara, 'what's wrong with a little spice in our lives?' And that'll teach you to burn my fingers with hot cookie dough."

Lara sputtered, wiping her mouth, unable to say anything to turn the blame back on David. "Very well, David, we're even...but you'd better watch yourself. This is supposed to be Christmas, not April Fools'."

"Hey, you started it." David sighed. "Okay, I swear. No more practical jokes for the rest of the year."

"A week without wondering about the possibility of yogurt in my bed, ping-pong balls in my dresser, motorized rubber snakes in my clothing drawer..."

"Hey..." said David, confused. "I never put rubber snakes in your clothes!"

Lara and David's eyes turned to Mannfred, who was trying to leave as quietly as he could. "MANNFRED!" they both yelled, and the butler stopped, turning around guiltily.

"I can't believe you put motorized rubber snakes in my dresser!" Lara said accusingly.

"I can't believe you even HAVE motorized rubber snakes," David said wonderingly. "What catalog did you get those out of?"

"David, you're not helping!!" Lara snapped, then said to Mannfred, "Santa's going to be putting a great deal of coal in YOUR stocking tonight...and if you ever do that again, I'll start taking things OUT of your paycheck!"

Mannfred tried to look hurt, but the hint of a smile peeked out from under his white moustache. Without another word, he went back into the kitchen.

"Grade school children. I'm surrounded by grade school children, I swear..." Lara groused.

"Come on, Lara...your turn. No more practical jokes for the rest of the year."

"....rrrrrrr....alright. I promise. No more practical jokes for the rest of the year." She sighed. "Happy now?"

"Deliriously so." David embraced Lara and kissed her soundly. Lara snuggled into him as they kissed, enjoying the feel of having him back in her arms...and then the doorbell rang.

Lara looked at the clock. "She's here. Are you ready?"

"Yep."

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"I really do love you."

David smiled the smile of a man at peace with the world. "I love you, too, sunshine."

The large door opened and Lara and David looked out at a young woman who looked VERY familiar. She was dressed in heavy winter wear, and carrying a large box. "Hi, guys! Glad to see you!"

"Same here, you're right on time."

The box lowered and a mirror image of Lara Croft looked back at the two of them. "I am?"

"Yep...just like the memo said you would."

The box dropped to the stone and the clone began to change, growing fangs, claws and a very nasty set of spurs on her elbows and knees. Before she could leap at the two of them, she saw that their hands had come out from behind their backs...and that they were holding flamethrowers. Before the creature could attack, Lara and David aimed the nozzles and held down the triggers, bathing the Lara-thing in napalm. It never got the chance to do so much as look threatening.

When the thing was a burning heap on the front step, Lara lowered the flamethrower. "Looks like my clone was on the up-and-up."

"Yeah...I'm glad Laura could get into the Atlantic Company's e-mail before Interpol swooped down. Another 'contingency plan' by Natla, may Satan toast her with a really long, sharp fork."

Lara picked up the box and put it back in the car the Lara-thing had used to drive through the gates. "How is Laura, by the way?"

"She called this morning, while you were out getting the wrapping paper. She reminded us that the thing was coming and she said that she's gotten a job as a model." David smile grew wider. "She says that her most common reply nowadays is, 'No, I'm not her, but everyone says I look like her.' She scheduled her breast reduction operation for just after the New Year, and after that, she doubts that she'll be calling us again until she sorts out her new life. That money Mark got just before we bailed the plant sure paid off."

Lara set the car rolling out the gate and moved it into a field. She let it go for another twenty yards, then ran back through the gates to the house. "How's Mark?" Lara asked as she passed the gates.

"Back at his home in New York. I heard he's planning on helping Laura out with her modeling career. Also hear that he and Laura might start seeing each other. I dunno...there's something about that guy that just doesn't seem, well, right." David said as Lara ran up to his side again, warming herself on the fire still burning in front of the house.

"And I suppose that we're normal?" Lara laughed. "It was probably just your imagination."

"I guess so..." David looked out to where the car was sitting in the field.

"Hey, Lara."

"Yes, Dave?"

"Ten pounds says it's an explosive."

"Three-to-one says it's a biological hazard."

"And if it is?"

"Then we die of some horrible disease together."

"How romantic. Anyway, it wouldn't be a bio-weapon."

"Why not?"

"Not Natla's style. She'd hit us with the creature, then have the bomb get rid of the evidence. Simple."

"Ten pounds says you're wrong."

"You're on." David looked out at the night sky. "You know what'd make this perfect?"

"What?"

"Snow. There should be snow on Christmas."

"It hasn't snowed here for a few years, David."

Suddenly the car went up in a monstrous fireball, the explosion nearly deafening them and causing the windows to vibrate and rattle. Then the heat wave came, causing a short, hot breeze. Lara, without turning to David, said in a disappointed tone, "You win."

"I'll settle for a kiss."

"Settle??" Lara looked up at David indignantly. "My kisses are worth much more than ten pounds each!"

"Then pay up," David said, grinning and pointing up.

Lara looked up to see a sprig of mistletoe over the door, then back at David. "Dirty pool, Dave."

"Shut up and kiss me already."

Lara smiled and gave him a kiss that curled his toes all way up to his hips. She dragged him inside and closed the door, she whispered, "Wait until you see what I got YOU for Christmas."

"Oh, really?" David looked under the tree. "Which one is it?"

"Oh, it's not under the tree...it's up in my room." Lara Croft pulled away. "I haven't finished wrapping it yet, so wait twenty minutes, then come on up to my room. I should have it wrapped by then." With a twinkle in her eyes, Lara went up the stairs two at a time, disappearing into her room.

David watched the place where he last saw Lara, then went to the window near the front door and watched the scenery, making sure that the fire from the car wasn't spreading or turning any funny colors. Even now, he found it hard to believe what he'd been through, what they BOTH had been through...especially that they survived, above all. Maybe now things will calm down a little, now that Natla's gone. Maybe now...I can avoid the incredibly strange and life-threatening stuff Lara and I seem drawn to lately.

As he watched the world outside, small bits of white started altering the view. David's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, I'll be...it's snowing? It's snowing!" He felt absurdly happy as he saw first small flakes, then large ones, then flurries drop down upon the Croft property and the land around it. "First things first...snowball fight, then a snowman..."

"David...!!" Lara called from above. "Your present is ready!"

David grinned and ran upstairs. As he entered the bedroom, he stopped two paces from the door.

Lara Croft stood there, dressed in the evening gown he'd seen back on their first date to the Museum in New York. However, he did note a small difference; the gown was covering an elaborate white lace bodystocking, making the entire ensemble artistic in its contrasts. Five-inch black heels and a red bow pinned just above and between her breasts finished the look. "Well, Dave," Lara said, giving him a smoky, seductive smile, "you'd better get over here. I want to do some unwrapping of my own and I can't do it with you standing all the way over there."

David walked closer, slipping his arms about her waist and holding her close. "You sure this is what you want?"

"Dave, I've wanted it from the moment I saw you in New York...but now, I think we're both ready...for a lot of things."

David was emotionally overwhelmed. He was barely able to ask, "But..."

"Shushhhhh..." Lara placed an finger over his lips. "There are some things you just don't talk about...you DO. It's time, Dave, for both of us..." Lara's smile turned into a come-hither grin. "So shut up and make love to me, Dave...I want you, right now."

David shut his mouth, covering it with Lara's, as he kissed her deeply.

When they parted, Lara exhaled breathlessly. "Nice."

"Merry Christmas, Lara. I love you."

"I love you too, David."

And so Lara and David celebrated a VERY Merry Christmas.