1 - New Era
OSLO, NORWAY - PRESENT DAY
Her high heels clattered against the thick marble floor. She walked through the airlock before reaching into the pocket of her white coat and pulling out a badge, which she slid into the badge box beside the door. The small security light turned green with a sharp click, and she pushed the heavy steel door open with a shove. She winced, annoyed.
The corridor that opened up to her seemed to be never-ending. The place was completely empty at this late hour of the evening. The regular neon lights shone blandly several metres above her head. She felt as if she were trapped in an aquarium: in this part of the building, all the walls and facades were entirely glass, opening on the one hand on huge offices and conference rooms, and on the other, on the plunging view of the immense city at their feet. It was already late, night had fallen, and Oslo was glittering with its most beautiful lights in the icy black night.
It took her several minutes before she finally saw his silhouette a little further on. She clutched the file she was holding against her a little tighter. She let out another sigh of annoyance. He was waiting for her in the greatest of silences, leaning against a metal railing, his hands tightly crossed. His eyes seemed lost in the void, he was obviously deep in thought. She noticed his pursed lips. He was upset too.
She abruptly handed him the folder full of sheets, almost hitting him. The man stood up as best he could, still looking away.
"I thought you were never coming," he said in a detached, almost mocking tone.
"Sorry, I was busy trying to catch up on your teams' bullshit..."
Feeling the anger rising in her, he made the effort to finally turn towards her and grabbed the documents she was about to throw on the floor. With a detached look, he glanced absentmindedly at the sheets and other charts. His eyebrows rose slightly, but the woman sensed contempt, and a kind of amusement in the man's attitude. After a long moment of insistant silence, he finally deigned to address the young woman.
"Did they try on the E-T225 sample?"
"Sample E-T225 has been destroyed," the woman cut him off abruptly.
The man looked up at her. Her eyes, as black as her skin, were full of anger. She had her arms crossed against her chest, her breathing jerky.
"Have you tried the B48 biogene?"
"We've tried everything," the woman replied, snatching the file from his hands. "We followed all the instructions carefully, and the whole protocol. The results were convincing until two of your technicians stuck their damn noses in this."
The man frowned, and turned to the woman, surprised by her words. She took a step forward, threatening him with a finger.
"I'm sick of having to arrange all your bullshit, Tobias."
"I love it when you get mad like that," he replied cynically.
"Your childish attitude threatens the whole project. Because of them we have to start all over again..."
"Wasn't there any synthesis sample?"
"Of course there was..." she replied, appalled.
"So what?"
"If you were a little more serious and if you were paying more attention to what your teams are doing, we wouldn't be in this situation, we wouldn't have to start all over again for the umpteenth time... we're wasting phenomenal time..."
"We still have time."
"There are only a few months left now. When are you going to open your eyes and pull your fingers out of your ass?"
Tobias glanced around defensively. He ran a nervous hand through his brown hair before leaning in towards her.
"A team is leaving for the base tomorrow," he told her in a whisper.
"That's the point. We have to get to it."
"Stop stressing out, Miranda..."
"Don't talk to me like that. If we don't find it soon, it would have been all for nothing," she said, waving her hand nervously to cut him off.
"Aren't you tired of making a big deal out of this, frankly?"
She gave a cynical laugh. She moved a little closer, their faces were now only inches apart. She plunged her gaze into the man's two different coloured eyes.
"I remind you that we are already on our fourth try... if we keep going this way, you can be pretty sure the whole country's police forces will be on us... Not to speak about Interpol and all the European secret services... we'll be bound to attract attention at some point..."
A triumphant smile appeared on the man's sunken face.
"I may have a solution to that very thing."
The half-breed crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation. He loved it when she looked so haughty and proudly raised her chin the way she did in this very moment.
"I found a contact. Someone who can take care of it for us."
Miranda stood still before him.
"Someone with experience on this kind of... mission, who will undoubtedly be able to recover it safely if the team that just left doesn't get results."
"Someone we can trust?" the woman asked, suspicious.
The slamming of a door in the distance and the echo of several voices told them that a group of people had crept into the corridor. They stopped their conversation. The group of scientists quickly reached their level, nodded at them, and disappeared through another door a little further on. The two young people remained silent until the last moment.
"Someone independent and discreet," Tobias continued when the silence had died down completely. "Someone who is relatively knowledgeable about the subject given his past experience."
"If you're talking about-"
"I'm not," he cut her off, guessing the end of her sentence.
"Good. I'd rather avoid a worldwide media furore if we can."
Tobias nodded very slightly, and gave her a mysterious and confident smile.
"I hope you know what you're doing," the woman said scathingly.
"It takes what it takes, nothing's too good for you."
She did not answer.
"I'll take care of it tomorrow," he added.
Miranda watched him for a few more seconds before finally speaking.
"Don't forget we have the board meeting tomorrow morning. Did you take the time to read the report?"
"Saija dropped it off earlier, yes."
"We'll have to think seriously about Nicholsen's proposal, someone seems to be very interested in taking over his shares."
"Another eminent scientist?"
"No. Just another maniac from the French pharmaceutical industry. We'll have to think about it, but I think it's a good deal."
"OK, then. We'll have a nice, quiet pillow talk about that."
"Can't you be serious for a second..."
"You know me."
Tobias offered her a broad, charming smile and slipped his hands into his custom-made trouser pockets, looking clearly serene.
"For the sake of the company and the presidential committee's members, we won't talk about tonight's results, of course," the young woman said ironically.
"Of course. It would be a shame to offend myself-his-greatness CEO and his terrifyingly sexy Co-Chairman," the man replied in the same tone.
Miranda huffed loudly in exasperation. He was seriously tiring her out with his manners, especially since it was already late and she still had a lot of things to take care of before her day was officially over. Tobias pointed vaguely at the documents she had tucked under her arm.
"For the CEA project, maybe try formula B890 and synthesis sample beta 078."
She stared at him for a brief moment with her large brown eyes, again angry and annoyed by such arrogance.
"I'll see you back at the flat," she simply said. "I won't be home early."
"No problem, babe."
"Don't call me that," she said as she turned to leave.
Before she was out of his reach, Tobias extended his hand to her buttocks and slapped her lightly, which echoed with a thud. He watched her walk away as she had arrived, her steps accompanied by the click of her heels.
—
UTAH, UNITED STATES - THE DAY AFTER
It is pitch black around him. He can see absolutely nothing. The heat is oppressive, he is suffocating. The taste of dirt and dust seeps into his lungs with every breath he takes, leaving a pasty taste in his mouth. He tries to swallow, his throat protests. It is so dry it hurts, irritated by the air. He feels the drops of sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down his temples and cheeks, but he can't wipe them away.
There is not a single light around him. Not a glimmer to hold on to, not a sign of life. He can't hear anything, except his own jerky breathing.
He feels the stones all around him. He feels it brush against his skin on every inch of his him. Every second that passes, he feels as if the earth is crushing him a little more and compressing his limbs. He tries to stay focused, and not let himself be overcome by terror and despair, but he has nowhere to turn his gaze, nothing to hold on to. He can barely turn his head and move one arm slightly. He can no longer feel his legs, which are wedged between several huge rocks. He is surrounded.
He tries to move his leg, but instantly a sharp pain shoots up through his knee and hip, up to his stomach. He grits his teeth, and holds back a cry of pain. This simple movement reminds him that this time he is not in control. He is a prisoner and there is nothing he can do.
He can feel his strength gradually leaving him. His limbs stiffen a little more, crushed by the weight of the stone. Hope also disappears and evaporates as he tries to catch his breath. He has never felt worse in his life. Stuck, crushed, unable to move, buried alive and with no prospect of survival.
He doesn't know how long he's been there. Hours, days perhaps. He has no way of knowing. He has lost all sense of time. He can no longer think, his ideas and thoughts are confused, and too many. He tries to resist, but he knows he is on the verge of madness.
And yet, one thought clings to him more than the others in this immense darkness. One thought, just one. The only one that keeps him alive. That tiny glimmer of hope that is now just a single, tiny spark. A tiny flicker. But it is there. It is anchored in the deepest part of him. It doesn't leave him. Or at least he tries not to let it escape. It's his only hope, although everything seems ridiculous now. A bitter feeling comes over him when he thinks back to the last few months, to everything he has survived. If the situation were not so tragic, he would have seen the irony in it. The irony of having put an end to the war he had fought all his life, of having finally exterminated his worst enemies, but of having lost the little he really cared about. An unbearable feeling pinches his heart at the idea that they are now separated.
Away from her. That thought makes him sick. He feels his already deeply wounded heart clench in his chest, and an uncontrollable feeling of rage rise up inside him. He has a whole life to live. He doesn't want it to end here, away from everything. He doesn't want to die. Not here, not in these conditions.
He remains conscious for as long as he can, staring into the emptiness that surrounds him, clenching his teeth and jaw as he clings to life. Until the moment his body gives way. He suddenly feels extremely light, as if freed from the weight of the tons of rock piled above him. His lungs scream, desperate for clean air. He feels nothing. He tries to keep his eyes open, but the weight of exhaustion is far too great. He feels himself slipping. He lets go. Everything around him turns white.
—
He woke up abruptly, his lungs desperately searching for air. A hiccup caught in his throat as he sat up. His panicked eyes darted around the room, unable to focus on any one point. After the first few seconds of panic, he finally managed to make out the few pieces of furniture that made up his room, as well as the large glass window that showed the storm that was roaring outside. It was pitch black, the storm thundered in the distance. The rain was making a hell of a noise against the roof tiles and the walls of the big wooden house.
He ran a hand over his face, tired. He was drenched in sweat. He could still feel the weight of the rock against his limbs, as if he were still buried, as if his body and mind were still trapped in the collapsed city. He took deep breaths to try to calm his gasping breath. His brain seemed lost in a thick fog.
He let the sheets slide over him as he swiveled and sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward and took his head in his hands. His head was buzzing, he could feel the blood pulsing violently against his temples. He still had the unpleasant sensation of the rock crushing his chest and trapping his body.
He felt a movement in his back. The sheets moved, and he felt a hand tenderly embrace him. Very quickly, the warmth of the young woman enveloped him. His negative thoughts gradually disappeared, replaced by her own positive feelings. He sighed loudly.
"Do you want to go out and get some fresh air?", she asked softly, her head now resting against his back.
"Don't think there's much point...", the young man replied in an almost inaudible whisper.
The young woman straightened up and pressed herself against him a little more. Her embrace tightened around his chest. She placed a kiss on his shoulder.
"Perhaps you wanted to take your mind off it."
"Have you seen the weather outside?"
"Who cares? That, or go get some practice at the gym for a while if you feel like."
"That won't stop the nightmares from coming back the next night."
"Maybe not, but at least you'll have thought about something else for a while."
The mercenary sighed again.
"I just want to sleep in peace," he said under his breath.
A flash of lightning tore through the sky outside. A few seconds passed before the sound of thunder echoed throughout the house. The adventuress tightened her arms around him a little more.
"You have to give yourself some time, Kurtis."
"It's been a year already, Lara..."
The young woman took a slow, deep breath. She knew only too well what he had gone through, having lived through it before him. She herself feared the memory of the darkness all around her, wherever she looked. That oppressive silence, and emptiness. The echo of one's own breath as one becomes trapped in the earth and rocks. The hope that dies as your own thoughts are lost in the most reclusive spaces of the soul. The despair. The taste of death. She had never found a cure for her own pain, and now she felt helpless to offer him a remedy to ease it.
"Let time do its work," she simply told him.
The mercenary tilted his head back, feeling now a little calmer. His thoughts were gradually coming back to clarity and the present moment. He looked absently at the large beams that stood over their heads. Another thunderclap burst, closer this time. They felt the walls shake around them.
"Do you want to try to go back to bed?", whispered Lara in a reassuring voice.
"What for? To find myself buried alive again?", Kurtis replied cynically.
"I'll be there."
The young man turned around, slowly turning towards his companion. He found her wrapped in the silky sheets, her long loose hair cascading thickly over her shoulders. Though awake in the middle of the night, her brown eyes glowed with life. Her warm hand slid gently against his cheek.
"Whenever you find yourself there, I'll come and get you. I will get you out of there. As many times as necessary."
The American suddenly found himself unable to reply to the determined look on her face. He was completely speechless in front of the flames that had suddenly ignited in her eyes. What could he possibly say in front of such strength, courage and willpower? She was magnificent.
With a tender gesture, Kurtis grabbed her by the neck and drew her to him. His lips met hers in the softest, most comforting kiss. Lara's arms wrapped around him, and slowly they laid down back onto the bed.
—
Her gaze wandered over the great expanse of emptiness in front of her. In the distance, the large stormy clouds that had broken during the night were gradually disappearing behind the high rocks of the canyon. Timid rays of sunlight were breaking through the now azure sky. The earth smelled damp, the air was still heavy. She felt electricity in the air. Soon the equally violent storms would return, which was not surprising at this time of year.
She took a sip of her steaming tea, sinking into one of the big wicker armchairs on the terrace. She was already ready, and her travel bag was waiting for her on the floor beside her. It was a morning like she liked. She felt serene, strangely invigorated despite the last few restless nights. Kurtis's nightmares had been increasing lately, and they were getting more and more violent. Not a night went by without him waking up. She felt helpless, unable to help him in any way, because some nights she too would wake up in a panic, convinced that she was still trapped underground in Cappadocia or tortured in the fortress of St. Petersburg. However, she had not said a word to the mercenary. She was aware that this was nothing compared to the psychological and physical shock her companion had survived. She couldn't afford to complain. And she was far too proud to admit to him that she herself was haunted by the images of Karel, dying on the floor of the Nephilim temple, his dark eyes focused on her and Kurtis. She was still marked by the nightmares and visions she had suffered under the Nephilim's influence. The realism of the sensations, the utter darkness before the nothingness.
She shivered at the thought. Footsteps echoed on the wooden slats of the large terrace, and Kurtis appeared, shirtless. He lit a cigarette and walked over to the railing and leaned against it, his eyes still blurry from lack of sleep. He closed his eyes for a moment to savour the warmth of the morning sun on his skin.
The adventuress watched him for a long time like that, without a word, the cup of tea still clutched in her hands. Her eyes slid over the mercenary's muscular back and his huge tattoo.
She knew that she and Kurtis would forever be locked in their mental prison in some way, and prisoners of a spell that neither of them could break. But they were facing it. They were fighting together. They were moving forward as best they could.
You are not alone in those darknesses
The young man suddenly turned his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile fixed on his lips.
"What are you smiling about?", the young woman asked softly.
"Nothing," he murmured in return.
Their eyes locked together for a moment. Kurtis savoured the image of the young woman, comfortably sunk in her seat, her legs crossed, her long braided hair falling over one of her shoulders, and her mischievous eyes watching him from behind the cup of tea she had brought to her mouth.
He had never felt better in his life. Of course, the first few months had been extremely complicated after his return and repatriation to the United States from Turkey. He had to fight physically, regain his strength, regain his powers. The healing process had taken much longer than on previous occasions, due to the extent of the damage. He had wanted to warn Lara and her mother, but he had not had the strength. He had waited before contacting Marie, who had immediately joined him from Brazil where she had gone into exile. Of course, she had not hesitated for a second to return to the land of her ancestors to find a weakened son, but she had worked miracles to save him.
But that was nothing compared to what he had felt when Lara had arrived here. That image would remain etched in his memory forever. The SUV that stops dead in its tracks and raises a field of dust. A young woman getting out in a hurry, sunglasses on her nose and a bag on her shoulder. He, weak, waiting for her on the stoop, his arm still wrapped in a thick bandage. Her dejected look when she comes forward and understands. All the fears that go away suddenly, the hope coming back, as if he had found a missing part of himself again.
In spite of all the losses, what meant the most to him had been saved. They were safe. All the weight of responsibility had suddenly lifted from his shoulders, he could finally put aside his struggles, and devote himself to himself. And to them, only to them.
He felt, however, that the young woman had been strangely preoccupied lately, as if her mind was elsewhere. He felt that something was happening inside her, something had changed.
They divided their lives between here and Croft Manor, depending on the missions that the young woman carried out, but which were rarer now. He knew the lack of action was weighing on her. Everything had been complicated since the Monstrum affair in Paris. He knew that Lara didn't care about it in general, but he knew her well enough to know she missed treasure hunting. He knew she needed to get away, just as he needed to get back to something at some point. It was in their veins, that was how their lives were made.
The Englishwoman lowered the cup of tea, her gaze still on him. The young man's smile widened even more.
"Mark has contacted me," she said quietly.
Kurtis blew out the smoke he had just swallowed and sat up.
"Again? I'm gonna start asking myself questions...", he replied mockingly.
She remained silent for short seconds and watched the young man carefully.
"Come on, don't tell me you're jealous."
"Not at all. I have absolutely no problem with someone hitting on you openly in my face."
Lara let out a slight laugh.
"You know he's only a colleague, an old friend with whom I have been on very good terms for years. He has been a great help to me many times. He is one of the few who still trusts me, and I guess if he keeps contacting me, it's because he still trusts my knowledge too after all. And thus I can also consider my physical abilities are still useful for something."
"I know of one or two things for which they are still very useful, indeed."
Lara pouted at the provocative look the American gave her. She gave him a look that was both accusatory and amused. Kurtis took one last drag on his cigarette, before stubbing it out and pulling himself away from the railing. He tossed the butt into the ashtray and headed for the house. He passed through the glass door and disappeared into the living room, under the inquisitive gaze of the Englishwoman.
"I just think he's a little bit too insistent, that Mark," he said over his shoulder.
"What can I tell you, I guess they just can't do nothing without me. And I have to keep myself in shape in a way," replied the young woman, deep in thought.
After a few seconds, Kurtis finally reappeared, a laptop in his hands. Once again, Lara caught the laughing eyes of her companion, and the twitching that the answer stuck to the tip of his lips caused.
"Tell me why do you have to put an undertone behind every sentence I say?"
"You're the one who started this."
"You are unbelievable..."
"I know, that's exactly what you tell me every time we-"
"You idiot," she interrupted him gently.
Without breaking his provocative smile, the young man went to sit in the armchair next to her, computer on his lap. She took another sip of tea, and let herself sink a little more into the big armchair. A light breeze picked up, whistling through the surrounding rocks.
"I'm going back to Surrey for a while. He obviously needs my input on the Egyptian temporary exhibition they've just put on at the British Museum."
"What time is your flight?"
"Early afternoon."
Kurtis nodded slowly. Lara didn't seem more interested than that, and looked almost disillusioned. He watched the young woman stare into space, a few strands of hair floating around her thin face. Then, leaving her to her thoughts, he turned to his computer, on which he typed at high speed. Lara watched him with great attention, and from his closed look and slightly frowning eyebrows, she knew that something was on his mind.
"What's wrong?", she observed.
"Nothing important, 'm just checking my emails."
He felt the adventuress' inquisitive gaze on him.
"I've been contacted," he said, pointing to his screen with a vague gesture.
She put her cup of tea down on the side table and sat up, intrigued.
"You've been contacted?", she repeated mechanically.
"You look surprised. Why?"
Lara shook her head, suddenly surprised by the serious tone the young man was taking.
"Do people know you're alive? I mean..."
She left her sentence hanging in the air. Kurtis nodded his head in agreement.
"I've made myself known to some former colleagues, yes. Nothing too bad or illegal, if that makes you feel any better. And I've no contact with The Agency, it no longer exists," he interrupted the young woman as he saw her about to protest.
"How can you be sure about that?", she asked, feeling now a bit worried.
"Even half dead, I kept an eye on what was going on in Europe and I kept in touch with certain people. Gunderson's dead, and without him, the group has been disbanded."
Lara just stared at him, trying to get her thoughts straight.
"What are you going to do then?"
"I think I can work in a different way if that's what you're asking," the young man answered with a little more seriousness. "I've to make a living from something, Lara."
"We've already had this conversation," the young woman cut him off abruptly as she closed in on herself.
She sank back against the back of her seat, her arms tightly crossed against her chest.
"I thought you were done with the Lux Veritatis."
He shook his head gently, searching for words.
"The order no longer exists, but I can never change the fact that I am and will be a member of it for the rest of my life. I just can't fight that. My destiny is to fight Evil forces."
"I thought that after the Nephili...", she said without finishing her sentence.
"That after them it would be all over? If you had the opportunity to get your hands on all the lost objects that could potentially bring about the end of the world, would you do it?"
The adventuress remained silent, stung to the core.
"Evil forces are everywhere, Lara. There will always be things to fight, whether I decide to stop fight or not. And to tell you the truth, I'd rather be useful and busy than sit around all day and live off you."
"You know that's not what this is about...", she told him with great irritation and almost uncontrollably.
"That's exactly what it's about," the mercenary told her firmly.
Lara frowned, wary. For a long moment the two adventurers stared at each other, waiting for the storm to subside. She was angry at herself for getting so carried away, because she knew that they were both filled with the same flame. The same will to fight for the good things. They were the same, and so similar that it was destabilising sometimes. That was what linked them together, but it was also what separated them. He should have told her earlier, but she couldn't blame him. She knew he needed to move on too, and she could not afford to stop him in any way. She trusted him, just as she knew he would have entrusted his own life to her without hesitation.
Still annoyed by her own anger towards him, the young woman let Kurtis' blue eyes calm her down little by little.
"What is it about?", she finally asked, when the storm of emotions raging inside her had finally calmed down.
The mercenary shrugged his shoulders, still in the throes of reflection.
"A mission in Central Europe. Looks like there's an object to be recovered, but there're no more details. They suggest we meet in Oslo so we can talk about it more precisely."
"Nothing about what you have to collect or do?"
"No. Obviously they wanna meet me in person first."
Lara nodded slowly.
"Can I have a look?"
The young man swung the computer around. Lara leaned forward, scanning the message. A relatively short email, signed with simple letters: TS. A pseudonym, then, but nothing surprising. The message wasn't very specific indeed, except for the address of the meeting in Oslo, and a very short reference to a big Norwegian company, but it seemed serious all the same. Kurtis saw her frown.
"D'you know them?", he asked, intrigued by the young woman's attitude.
"Don't think so."
"I haven't had time to do much research, but 't looks like there're not so much big companies in Norway. I'd be curious to know what they're up to."
"Um..."
"What's wrong?", Kurtis asked.
"Nothing."
"Tell me. You know I can tell when something's bothering you."
The young man glared at her. She was unable to hold back a pout.
"I don't feel really comfortable when the words missions, lost objects and big companies are combined in the same sentence. It's never good. I'm no stranger to megalomaniac businessmen, it's all about using us to find the lost artefact that will help them ruling or destroying the world. Most of the time at least. I think I've had enough of that for the rest of my life."
Kurtis chuckled. She had already told him about that story, indeed.
"Nothing's done yet. I just wanna meet them first, let's wait and see what they offer me at least."
The Englishwoman nodded, but her mind already seemed to be elsewhere.
"Don't be offended."
"What do you mean?", she said, interrupted in her thoughts.
"Are you offended they contacted me and not you?"
"Not at all."
"You're the tomb raider here, I'd understand if-"
"I'm not the only archaeologist in the world, nor the only raider..."
"Yeah, but you're the only Lara Croft I know."
"Sure. But there's always room for another adventurer or demon hunter. If we can share the job, that's fine too. And having studied your résumé closely, I can't afford to question your skills."
Kurtis laughed. Lara slowly got up from her seat and grabbed her travel bag.
"In any case, if you try to double-cross me, you know very well how this is going to end up," she concluded defiantly.
"I'm interested to know, indeed," replied the American, whose gaze was once again full of innuendo.
They exchanged a smile. He felt that the young woman had returned to a more serene state now. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the car keys from the kitchen table.
"We'll see each other at Croft Manor, then?"
"Yes. I'll let you know anyway."
"I hope so," replied the young woman, giving him a big smile.
After one last look full of promises, the adventuress turned away and walked to the car that was parked down in the big house's courtyard. The engine whirred and echoed in the desert silence around them, before the vehicle set off. Kurtis stood on the balcony for a moment, watching the car slowly move away down the winding road. It zigzagged between the high rocky peaks, before disappearing completely into the distance.