This should explain a few things. :-)

NFI - Hi! You're not too far off...not too far off at all. :-)

ColorGuard Girl - Hello there, new reviewer! I admit, yes, sometimes I waffle, but sometimes I post paragraphs that seem superfluous at the time, only to become important later. I hope I've not done too much of the former, and I'm sorry you're finding this a tad tiresome. I'm sure you'll be glad to know that today Kurtis' story takes a new turn. I needed to stretch his incarceration out as long as I did so that I could fully illustrate his physical and mental deterioration whilst driving home the repetitiveness of Lara's questions. Thanks for giving an honest review!

Linzi - Well, I'm glad I'm drawing you into the plot! LOL. I'll try not to scare you again, but I might not be able to resist - I'm remarkably evil sometimes. ;-) Yeah, Fishman and Maria are cute, aren't they?

Lady Lara Croft - Well, it seems you aren't the only one who liked the shoot out! And yep, the references to the TR4 Lara are so totally there for a reason.

Odd Little Turtle - What's a chapter without a cliffhanger, eh! ;-)

Godavari - I accept no responsibility for grounding, failure of pop quizzes or incompletion of homework! LOL Thanks for choosing this story over sleep!

Contrasts of Reactions

As he was led back through the now familiar corridors at the back of the club, Kurtis wondered why they'd come to fetch him when not ten minutes before they'd thrown him in his cell. He was startled out of his musings when, as he was automatically turning right around a corner, his arms were jerked by the guards and they dragged him left instead. A few more steps down the corridor and he found himself standing outside a brown panelled door, waiting for an answer to the guard's knock.

"Come in!" came an unfamiliar voice from inside, and so they entered.

Kurtis found himself in a large office, an unexpected size in comparison to the rest of the club he'd seen. A rich red carpet covered the central portion of the floor, with a frame of polished white tiles poking out from underneath around the outside. Black bookcases lined one wall, a black leather couch and two matching chairs were squared onto the opposite wall, whilst huge windows looking out onto an adjacent park dominated the far end. In the centre of the room was a modern glass and marble desk, Vincent Harding sat on one side. He wasn't however, on the boss's side of it. That seat was occupied by someone else, a man that Kurtis hadn't seen before. Looking to be in his early thirties, the man was casually but expensively dressed, in black suit trousers with a purple silk shirt, worn out of the waistband and unbuttoned on the top, no tie to adorn it.

"Mr Trent," the man said. "Come in, sit down. You look tired, weak even. Have you been fed?"

Kurtis, still handcuffed, was given a little push forwards, and he stumbled before regaining his balance and walking warily forwards. The man shot Harding a hard look and Vincent, a flash of annoyance on his face, did as he was told and vacated the seat for Kurtis. Trent sat, only half on the seat and sitting up straight to avoid crushing his hands. They may as well have uncuffed him, he was far too weak to use any telekinesis, had been for most of his time with them. It was infuriating, having an ability that could make escape so easy but being unable to conjure it.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why we've kidnapped you. Do you know why we've got you?"

"No." Kurtis did his best to sound bored.

The man leant forwards across the desk, holding his cigarette away from Kurtis politely as he offered the pack forth to him. Trent looked longingly at the white sticks poking from the box and, laughing to himself, the man took one out and lit it before standing to lean over and place it between Kurtis' lips. He took a thankful drag, closing his eyes as the calming effect of the nicotine washed over him.

"My name," the man continued, "is Travis Sunderland. I own this nightclub. I'm a very rich, powerful man." He gestured to the guards and Harding as he did so, to prove his point. "I'm young, I'm wealthy, I'm good-looking, I'm well educated, I've got a head for business and a heart for fun – and I'm dying."

He looked to Kurtis for a response but he only stared back incomprehensively, blowing smoke out of his lips as he gripped the cigarette with his teeth.

"You're here to save my life," Sunderland said.

A moment of silence followed and then Travis stood, pacing thoughtfully around the office. "I need you to remember that ritual, Kurtis, and I need you to do it fast. We know that it has to be performed at the Dnister in Ukraine, and we don't have an unlimited amount of time. I don't have an unlimited amount of time. Now in two hours our plane leaves for Kiev. We will be on it. Within twelve we'll be in Ukraine and if you haven't remembered how to perform that ritual – if indeed you have forgotten as you claim – then you'll regret it deeply." He turned, fixing Kurtis with a cold stare that did not match his cultured appearance. "Lady Croft will regret it."

Kurtis failed to hide his surprise. He spat the cigarette onto the desk and glared back at Sunderland. "What about Lara?" he demanded.

"We can get to her. Quite easily."

Cursing himself for giving away his weakness to Harding in a cry of desperation, Kurtis panicked. "You lay one finger on her – "

"Just perform the ritual. It's that simple."

Kurtis thought for a second. "The Ritual of Anubis is used to contact the afterlife – how does that help you? What, you wanna reserve your room there?"

Travis laughed to himself, half genuinely amused, half decided that Kurtis was an idiot. "The Ritual of Anubis can be used to open the gateway to Hades, turning the River Dnister into the River Styx. Anyone brave enough to drink from the Styx's boiling waters, so legend says, has their mortality washed away. They never die." He turned to stare out of the window, almost wistful.

Kurtis blinked disbelievingly. "And you believe that?"

Travis turned. "What choice do I have? It's my final chance. Take my advice, my friend, give up the cigarettes." He took a long drag of his own and laughed bitterly.

"Ah!" Crying out in frustration, Bryce slammed the lid of his laptop closed. "This is ridiculous!"

Across the room, Lara spared him a sideways glance and returned to cleaning her pistol. "It's alright, Bryce."

"Alright? Lara, these mercenaries, soldiers, whatever they are, they're untraceable! I can't find them! Me! Do you know how annoying that is!"

"Yes," Lara said succinctly as she gave the exterior of the gun chamber an aesthetic polish. "We don't know who they are, where they come from, who hired them, or why. It's remarkably annoying, I agree. Which is why we're going to stop looking and start acting. If they're back guarding the river again tonight," – she slammed a new clip into the weapon and pumped the chamber – "then we stand our ground."

Bryce stared, taking in her combat clothes, toned physique, familiar handling of her weapons and her no-nonsense demeanour. "God, you're hot – you know that?"

Lara winked and flounced out of the room.

Fishman, Maria, Lara, Bryce and Hillary had all taken the one jeep and left it at the end of the road around the corner, creeping the remainder of the way to the riverbank under the cover of darkness and dropping to their stomachs behind one of the many bushes, silently staring at the mercenaries who had, as expected, returned to guard the waters. This time, however, they weren't alone.

"Helloooo," Fishman said to himself, taking in the newcomers. The soldiers were standing around holding a perimeter, scanning the area with their weapons ready, but their female leader was off towards their vehicle, deep in conversation with another group of people, too tightly clustered to be counted or recognised.

"Well, whoever they are, they're probably the people that hired the mercenaries," Hillary whispered.

"So what do we do?" Maria asked.

Lara smiled, reaching down to her holster and removing her gun, bringing it up to her face and dropping a quick kiss on its barrel. "I'm feeling gung-ho," she grinned. "I say we take them by surprise."

Gunfire exploded all around him and for a momentKurtis was frozen in shock before he returned to his senses, diving for cover behind the car even as those with him regained their own faculties and shoved him in the direction of safety. Unable to properly move with his hands bound behind his back and his ankles tied by rope with only a short amount of give, Kurtis fell hard by the wheels of the car, his captors dropping to their knees around him.

"What the fuck is going on!" Sunderland demanded, and Kurtis shot him a withering look from his position sprawled in the grass.

"We're being shot at, what do you think?"

Olena, the mercenary leader that only moments before had been discussing tactics with them, had opened return fire within a split second of the attack beginning and was now out in the middle of the foray, keeping herself moving and firing blindly on the enemy that seemed to be attacking from all sides, invisible in the darkness. She screamed something in Ukrainian and, gaining no immediate response, repeated it in angry English. "I said turn off the headlights!"

One of Kurtis' guards had the presence of mind to act upon the order and yanked open the door of the vehicle, scrambling inside and flicking off the lights before finding his gun in his belt and opening the car window, firing through it into the fight. The other guard moved to the end of the car and opened fire from there, staying low and covered in direct contrast to the lunatic antics of the professionals who were out in the open and dodging bullets seemingly by the very skill of their movements. Only Kurtis, Sunderland and the ever-present Harding remained neutral, crouched down and covering their ears against the deafening gunshots.

From their view over the car they saw one of their aggressors dash out in the open, skidding to a halt just long enough to fire, a gun in each hand, at a chosen mercenary until they dropped dead, then running off again before they themselves could become anyone's target. In the meagre light from the streetlamps of the nearby road, the figure's form was clearly female, and a long braid streamed out behind them as they sprinted for cover.

"Lara…" Kurtis breathed, a delighted smile breaking out.

"Lara Croft?" Sunderland cried, overhearing. "I might have known!" He watched helplessly for a few moments as more of the mercenaries fell, Lara and her unfallen team using the advantage of cover and surprise to its full advantage.

"Stop her," Sunderland demanded, turning to Kurtis, his eyes desperate. "Use your powers, stop them! They're winning!"

"Why should I! I want her to win!"

"Because," growled Harding from behind him, and he turned to see the man holding a grenade with a vicious look in his eyes, "if you don't stop her, I'll pull the pin, throw it and blow us all to kingdom come."

"Are you crazy!" Kurtis shouted, struggling against his bonds. "You are! You're insane!"

"Do it!" Sunderland screamed, forcing Kurtis to spin back again. "You think she'll let me drink from the river if she wins? If we lose, I die, and if I die, I'm taking you with me! All of you!" He snatched the grenade from Harding and wrapped his fingers around the pin. "Stop her!"

Kurtis snarled in frustration, trapped. "Fine!" he shouted, thrusting his hands towards Harding to be freed. "Fine, I'll do it!"

Harding snatched a knife from his pocket and flicked open the blade, snapping the twines binding Kurtis' ankles before pulling a key from another pocket and hastily unlocking the handcuffs. Immediately Kurtis leapt to his feet, grunting in exertion as he slammed a hand forward and sent eight of the mercenaries flying. Fishman was caught in the blast, crying out as the invisible force knocked him backwards and he had barely hit the ground before a second wave from Kurtis downed the remaining mercenaries and Lara, the woman grunting as the unseen punch contacted with her stomach and threw her to the ground. Trent spun around three quarters of a turn, channelling the momentum of the movement into one final thrust and yelling a battle cry as his powers swept across the field, taking out anyone left standing and leaving the area silent and dark, devoid from gunfire and muzzle flares.

"Move!" Sunderland shouted to the soldiers, "Get them!" Quick and combat ready as they had already proven themselves to be, the hired help scrambled to their feet and tackled the tombraiders as they and their assistants rolled to their knees and took off at runs.

The capture was quickly over and Lara, Fishman, Maria, Bryce and Hillary, struggling vainly and complaining loudly, were roughly grabbed and held firm, their arms painfully gripped as their weapons were snatched away.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Kurtis came to stand in front of them as Sunderland and Harding ran over from their cover behind the vehicle. Harding landed a kick to the back of Kurtis' knees, sending him plummeting to the ground, and pushed down hard on the back of his neck to render him powerless as his other hand hurriedly returned the handcuffs to Trent's wrists.

"Kurtis!" Lara cried out in surprise.

Harding's hand now moved to pinch his shoulder, Kurtis raised his head and looked back at her apologetically, slight humour in his eyes. "Well, I should've known you'd be here."

"So this is your excuse for not calling me on my birthday, then?"

Kurtis smiled and attempted a shrug. "Sorry."

"Well, you could at least tell me what's going on."

"Lady Croft!" In answer, Sunderland stepped forward and extended a hand in greeting, smiling sheepishly and withdrawing it as he realised that Lara was in no position to shake hands. "My name is Travis Sunderland."

"Really?" Lara looked unimpressed.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, but I really need the Styx for myself."

"Are you trying to make sense?" Bryce asked sarcastically.

"Sorry." Sunderland laughed. "You see, I want to open the gateway to Hades so that I can turn the Dnister back into the Styx and make myself immortal."

To her credit, Lara managed to remain looking thoroughly bored. "And the reason for that is…?"

"I'm dying! And I don't want to, it's as simple as that, really."

"So you hired this lot to keep us from opening the gateway until you could get here and do it first," Fishman said. "I don't get it – if all you want to do is drink from the Styx, why the chase? The gateway can be opened as many times as necessary, it's not like we'd be stopping you."

"You know your mythology," Travis said, smiling and pointing. "You're right, of course. However, what you apparently don't know is that the ritual can only be performed by a Lux Veritatis warrior, and we've got the last one of those right here." He patted Kurtis on the shoulder, still smiling amiably, and Lara just couldn't quite match his manner with his actions. "At first, that didn't bother me – whilst all you tombraiders were running around without a clue, either getting the wrong river or getting the right river but not having your Lux Veritatis warriors, you weren't a threat. But then Kurtis kindly told us what good friends you all were and I suddenly realised that as soon as you tried the ritual and it didn't work, you'd do more digging. You'd find out who you needed and instead of running around trying to figure out who the last Lux Veritatis warrior was, you'd immediately come looking for Kurtis Trent. He's in my hands, the trail leads you directly to me, you get angry that I've kidnapped him, you decide not to play nice and share the Styx with me…you can see why I had to stop you."

Hillary looked thoroughly bemused. "You go to quite some extremes, do you know that?"

"You're telling me," Kurtis muttered. "Why the hell he couldn't just ask me, I don't know."

Travis bent down and looked Kurtis directly in the eyes, grinning. "Same reason I'm not going to offer to share the Styx with you all now – I don't really want any witnesses to all the crimes I've committed to get this far. You'd be surprised how illegal it can be to engineer yourself a last chance, sometimes. Hired help, untraceable guns, killing people just to get the information you need…I'll be damned if I'm going to get my life back only to spend it in prison!"

"No witnesses? You're going to kill us?" Lara sounded disbelieving rather than frightened. "This just gets better and better…"

It was Sunderland's turn to smile and shrug. "Sorry!"

"Up we get!" Vincent grabbed a handful of Kurtis' shirt and pulled him to his feet before giving him a shove towards to the two guards, who caught him. "Come on," Harding said impatiently, striding forwards and parting the crowd as he made for the river. His sense of humour inappropriately timed as always, he sniggered to himself. "Dead man walking!"

"You're an idiot, Harding," Kurtis said witheringly. He was pushed forwards a couple of steps at the edge of the bank and those soldiers not holding Lara and the others prisoner trained their weapons on him as his handcuffs were removed.

"I'll be needing some certain items," Kurtis demanded. "I'm assuming Lara has them?"

Harding marched over to Lara and tore open her backpack, reaching inside and picking out the contents one by one, throwing them to the ground. A small wooden frame with some kind of animal skin scrap hanging from the top bar, a small golden statue of Osiris, the Egyptian god of the dead, firelighters and matches, and a screw-top jar holding a pink powder that looked grey in the moonlight were removed before Harding got down to weapons, flares, first aid kits. "That's all," Kurtis said, watching the proceedings. "Bring 'em over here."

Harding did so and Kurtis took the items from him and tucked them under one arm before holding out his free hand. "I need your knife." Harding hesitated and looked to Sunderland, who jerked his head in agreement.

Trent set about preparing the ritual, moving quickly to a nearby bush and snapping off some dry twigs before joining them with the firelighters and igniting a small bonfire. As the flames took hold he set the animal skin to the side and placed the statue behind the fire. Unscrewing the lid of the jar, he sprinkled out a circle around himself and the objects before he took a pinch of the powder and threw it onto the flames, resulting in a crackling explosion like fireworks that sent a jet of flames up into the night sky.

"I call on you, Anubis, keeper of the dead. Rise and bow before my command. Open the gate." He threw more powder onto the fire and the flames leapt higher. "I call on you, Anubis, keeper of the dead. Rise and bow before my command. Open the gate," he repeated, his voice louder, and then a third lot of powder was added. The fire roared into a furnace, the flames higher and hotter than any natural burn from such a small source, their crackling and snapping almost drowning out Kurtis' words as he shouted the phrase one last time.

He snatched up the knife and held it to his palm, his hand hovering above thewaiting animal skin. Those watching were holding their breaths, barely believing what they were seeing and waiting in stark anticipation for what seemed to be the final action of the ritual. Kurtis froze, only his chest rising and falling in deep breaths, a long moment of hesitancy stretching the atmosphere to breaking point.

"What are you waiting for!" Sunderland cried. "You said you'd remembered!"

Kurtis raised his eyes to his captor, his gaze dark and threatening from underneath the strands of tousled hair hanging about his bowed head. "I did remember," he growled. "I remembered who I was, and what I wanted."