Hi everyone,

Special Warning for this chapter :

Strong language, violence, torture scenes that some may find disturbing


13- Into The Dark

The ground was cold and damp underneath her. She could hear the continuous rattling of water drops somewhere above her head. She started by moving her head slightly, then moved her fingers a little. She felt the moisture sticking to her clothes. She frowned. She rolled onto her back in what seemed like a superhuman effort. Her mouth was doughy, she felt nauseous. She felt nothing more than her aching, weak limbs. She felt a strong pulse somewhere on the back of her skull and in her jaw. It seemed to her that her face was swollen.

For an eternity she lay there, staring at the ceiling that stood several feet high. Then, when she felt the strength to do so, she finally stood up again, remaining first in a sitting position. She tried to look around her: she was in a small room with metal walls. Rust was spreading on some of them. A collapsed cot was in a corner, but the few other items were spilled in an unnamed bazaar, as if swept away by a strong gust of wind. The cell door, off its hinges, leaned dangerously to one side, as if ripped open by a powerful gust of wind.

Little by little, she finally got up, staggering. She leaned against the wall to be able to stand up properly. She stepped over the debris on the floor to get closer to the door. She arrived in a long narrow corridor that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see from one end to the other. She tilted her head to one side and then to the other, but saw nothing in particular, except the same disorder as in the room she had just left. There was a lot of rubbish and debris strewn all over the floor, the neon lights on the ceiling sizzled exaggeratedly in an annoying noise.

She stepped forward, trying to keep her balance in the clutter of the floor beneath her feet. The silence was overwhelming, oppressive.

"Is there anyone here?"

Her voice resounded strangely against the metal walls. For a moment she was only aware of her own breathing and her chest lifting up at high speed.

Then, in the darkness at the end of the corridor, she seemed to see something. She blinked her eyes to see more clearly, but the shape was much too far away.

Suddenly a severe headache came up to her head. A sharp pain, which pierced her skull directly through her forehead, as if a huge needle had been inserted into her brain. With difficulty she looked up at the end of the corridor.

Two red dots had appeared. She had no doubt that they were eyes, pointed at her. A rumbling sound came up in the shadows. The way it echoed around her, she knew at once that it was not a wolf, a bear or any other animal. Those eyes were in any case much too high above the ground to be a wild beast. The young woman's breathing stopped.

All of a sudden, the eyes began to move in a scream of rage that pierced down the corridor. The form finally emerged from the shadows. At first the adventuress thought it was an indeed a beast, but then she realised that it was moving on its two hind legs, the front ones swaying as it gained momentum and ran towards her. The young woman realized with horror that the thing strongly resembled a human being with an atrociously deformed appearance. Its limbs seemed to be wrapped in some kind of bandages, halfway between a mummy and the monster of Frankenstein. Its mouth was wide open, revealing long, sharp teeth.

By reflex, the young woman lowered her hands towards her holster, but realized with surprise that it was empty. She had no weapons. She moaned. The beast was getting dangerously close. Without thinking further, the young woman suddenly plunged forward into the debris. She grabbed a piece of wood at random. When she looked up, the beast pounced on her, like a wolf pouncing on its prey to finish it off. The man beast fell on her with all its weight. Under the shock of the impact, they first sank into the debris, before finally pivoting and rolling a little lower. The adventuress found herself above the beast, which was flailing furiously to lacerate her with its sharp claws. Its jaw was snapping. Underneath her, she could feel the strangely cold body of the thing twisting with all its might. Its big red eyes stared at her with all their contempt and hatred. In a fit of rage, the beast gave a violent claw, which pierced through the fabric of her trousers and cut deeply into the young woman's thigh. She escaped a cry of pain. In a final effort, she held the monster down, and in a sinister crack, she plunged the splinter of wood into the beast's face. The monster stopped moving immediately, its arms fell back to its ribs, like a disarticulated puppet.

Panting, the young woman stood for a few seconds watching the black liquid escape from the lifeless body of what she imagined to have once been a man.

Then, with great difficulty, she stood up, one hand pressing her leg. After a quick inspection, she discovered a fairly deep and clean gash in her flesh. She took off her shirt, ripped off a piece of it as she could, and set about making a tourniquet. She wrinkled her teeth when she squeezed the piece of cloth around her thigh. She could feel the blood pulsating at high speed. After this delicate operation, she decided to go a little further down the corridor, leaving the corpse behind her. She slalomed through the remnants of the furniture, the puddles that had formed over time. All the doors she found on her way were closed, she could not determine where she was. Her instincts told her it looked like a prison, while her mind seemed to indicate the idea of an underground fortress.

After a few metres she came to a kind of crossroad. In fact, she simply followed the corridor, which suddenly branched off to the right. About ten metres further on, a large iron gate closed off the end of the corridor. There was no other way out.

She walked forward carefully. It was a simple iron door, rusted in places. When the young woman operated the handle, there was a squeaking sound, the door opened only a few centimetres, but no more. It seemed to be stuck.

The young woman sighed. Slowly, she turned around and, limping, retraced her steps to the fork in the tunnel. She got back to where she was just before.

Suddenly she felt her blood freezing. She realized with horror that the body of the beast she had slaughtered had disappeared. When she looked more precisely, she realised that there was no trace of their struggle, no trace of blood anywhere. As if nothing had happened, as if the beast had never been there.

She couldn't help but frown. She could feel the stress rising inside her. She turned around several times, her gaze unable to settle on a specific point. She couldn't align her thoughts, as if her mind was in total blur. She went to take another look at the cell in which she had woken up, but she saw nothing but the few sagging pieces of furniture she had seen at first.

When she came out of the small cell, the pain in her head suddenly returned, much more acute. Overcome with the pain, she couldn't hold back a cry of pain. She felt as if a weight was suddenly falling on her, she was almost bent in half. With difficulty, she leaned against the wall so as not to fall backwards.

She saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. When she turned her head, she saw a herd of bright red eyes pointing at her. Another growl came out of the darkness, much more hoarse and much more powerful this time. She didn't take the time to think.

Panting, her leg and head on fire, she rushed down the corridor, scaling the debris as she could. Behind her, she realized that a wave of darkness was being unleashed and was racing in her footsteps.

At the junction of the corridor, she slipped on pieces of glass, and almost fell to the ground. She barely caught up, forcing her injured leg to straighten up. The grunts were getting closer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a horde of monsters running towards her, stepping on top of each other to be the first to catch her. In the same way as the one she had managed to kill, their jaws snapped in dry noises. She could hear their claws scratching the walls, the debris seemed to literally burst under their hurried footsteps.

Her hope went up a little bit when she saw the rusty door at the other end of the corridor. She rushed forward, launching herself towards the door. When she hit the metal once, it unblocked a few more centimetres, but didn't move any further.

The adventuress heard the monsters coming at the corner of the corridor. She didn't dare to turn around. She knew the first ones were already coming at her. Retreating a few steps, she took another run and ran to the door. With a loud crash, it opened wide and slammed noisily against the wall.

The young woman swung to the other side, carried away by the power of the shock. She stumbled and fell headlong onto a rocky floor, and felt the dust rising beneath her. Clutching her wounded leg, which had started bleeding again, she made a huge effort to get up and return to the door. For a fraction of a second she found herself face to face with the raging monsters, desperately reaching out their deformed arms towards her, their bodies undulating disturbingly under the neon light, like a wave coming at full speed on her.

She grabbed the door, and just as the monsters were about to tip over to the other side with her, she closed it back with all her might in a metallic squeak. The slam resounded in the air around her.

Breathless, the young woman remained for a long time with her hands resting against the cold metal of the door, her head down. The pain in her head was less, but there was still a buzzing sound. It was only after she came to her senses that she realised there was no more noise around her. No knocking on the door. No monster trying to force it, again, as if there had never been anything behind it.

She suddenly turned around. It was pitch black in here. She didn't immediately understand where she was: the space was much bigger this time, and the ceiling was much higher. She slowly turned away from the metal door, listening carefully.

She found herself facing the most total nothingness. Only a very slight light emanated from the ceiling, or at least from what looked like it: when she looked a little more carefully, she noticed it was in fact a thick, cottony material, as heavy clouds would have been, heralding a storm. The whole thing was moving and undulating slowly and lightly, going from a dark grey colour to black and then to the deepest blue. The walls cut into sharp and twisted shapes around her, she felt the floor uneven and slippery with every step she took.

The place suddenly seemed immense to her, just like a cave would have been.

She felt a movement to her right. Turning her head in this direction, she discovered someone staring at her a few metres away. The man, about her height, was standing a little backwards, as if frightened, partly hidden in the ambient darkness. His mischievous gaze shone through the lenses of his little glasses. He was reaching out a hand to her.

"Give me your hand, child."

The young woman felt her heart clench in spite of herself. She suddenly felt herself overwhelmed by emotion.

"What's happening? What's all this?", she asked anxiously.

But the man didn't answer her. A slight smile appeared on his tired face. Without a word, he turned around, ignoring the young woman who was walking towards him. Helping himself with his cane, he disappeared into the darkness.

"Wait!"

Her own voice seemed strangely distant, resonating in a flat sound. Without realising it, she began to chase after the old man. After a few steps, however, a sharp pain seized her wounded leg, and the young woman fell to the ground.

She slowly caught her breath, trying to gather her spirits. When she looked up, first looking to one side and then the other, she saw nothing but darkness and the ceiling threatening as it rolled on and on.

Once again, she felt as if she was being watched. Her gaze fell on a new silhouette that was taking shape in the shadows, a few metres away from her. She stood up as best she could. The silhouette, once again a man, was watching her, visibly on the defense. He was covered in scratches and blood, his shirt was partly torn. A large bloody blister cut his face in two. His piercing gaze crossed hers.

The young woman's heart jumped in her chest. She limped towards him. She saw the man take a step towards her. They found themselves halfway there and embraced each other tightly. The young woman breathed a sigh of relief. She took a deep breath and felt his arms closing a little tighter around her waist.

"What took you so long?"

In spite of the circumstances, she escaped a small laugh. They parted.

"I was busy..."

"...as always."

They stared at each other for a moment. Kurtis looked worried.

"Where are we? What's all this?", Lara asked.

"Dunno exactly."

He glanced nervously around him.

"In any case, w're not safe here. We have to stay together and be careful."

"I had understand that, indeed," she replied ironically.

The mercenary smiled at her. Then his face suddenly changed expression when he saw the adventuress's wound. Her trousers were soaked with blood.

"You're hurt?"

"Just a little scratch."

A rumble resonated around them, interrupting them. A new pain pierced the young woman's head. She rubbed her forehead, as if to relieve herself. But once again the pain was so unbearable that she fell to her knees.

"Come on, we have to go!"

She heard the mercenary coming back to her in a hurry. But when she looked up at him, she realised that he had already disappeared, swept away by the shadows. He was nowhere to be seen. The adventuress breathed a sigh of frustration. She felt despair take hold of her.

"You're a real tough woman, Miss Croft."

The voice, deep and powerful in this closed place, made her jump. Another man stepped towards her, coming out of the darkness. As she turned her head, she met the steel-blue eyes of the Nephilim who had come upon her. He stood in his long coat and watched her impassively, with his hands folded in front of him. A wave of rage seized the young woman.

"I must admit that I am relatively impressed by your perspicacity so far... You showed some great abilities at the Ermitage, and the Lux Veritatis knight is a very clever man. That's really bad all your little tricks drew attention to you ultimately."

The young woman glared at him.

"Where are we, Karel? Where have you taken us?"

An evil smile appeared on the man's distorted face.

"I thought you were smart enough to guess. But I had forgotten that you are only a mere mortal, after all."

"Bloodthirsty killer, narcissistic, arrogant and on top of that, sexist... you really have nothing for yourself," the young woman replied defiantly.

"And in addition to that, you've got a strong character," he replied calmly. "Your aptitudes and your intelligence would have done wonders with us, that's really a pity."

She gave him a murderous look.

"But it doesn't matter anymore anyway. The only weapon that can neutralise us has been intercepted. The last Nephilim base is about to be discovered. It's only a matter of time now..."

"What a sweet dreamer you are, Karel. Believe me, the return to reality is going to be harsh as hell, given that there'll always be someone to try to stop you... Several forces are rising up against you..."

The young woman stood up in defiance. Karel laughed.

"And could you tell me how do you intend to stop me? With the sword that was supposed to destroy me? With your Lux Veritatis friend?"

The adventuress didn't like the Nephilim's innuendo, and preferred to ignore it. A silence fell between the two.

"If you'll excuse me Miss Croft, I must leave you now. As you can imagine, we still have lots of work ahead of us. It was a real pleasure to see you again, it is with great sadness that I must bid you farewell, as it is very likely that we shall not see each other again."

The young lady began to laugh, uncontrollably and nervously. The Nephilim just stared at her, impassive. Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her back, and a metallic tinkling was heard, followed by a soft noise.

"Indeed, you can laugh Miss Croft. That is all you have left now."

The young woman stared at him without understanding, her eyes wide open. Then she turned around and found herself face to face with her attacker, who looked at her with his cold, expressionless gaze. A strange sensation rose inside her, like a warmth. Suddenly her throat hurt, and she felt a warm liquid rushing down her neck and slipping between her breasts. As a reflex, she put her hand to her throat, but she was unable to feel a thing as it slipped off her own skin. She coughed, but was unable to catch her breath. She was suffocating.

Her gaze then lowered towards her hand, which was covered with a thick, dark red liquid. She blinked several times, as if she wasn't sure what she was seeing.

Unable to bear her own weight anymore, she collapsed to her knees. She coughed again, this time more violently. Her head was spinning dangerously. No matter how hard she tried to catch her breath, she couldn't feel the air filling her lungs.

Her body went numb and she tipped to the side. Her head hit the hard ground. But the pain didn't matter anymore. In a last effort she looked up at Karel and then at her executioner, who watched her dying without moving. Then, feeling herself slowly slipping away, the young woman let her eyes close in on the image of her executioner's azure gaze, definitively.

She gasped, her eyes suddenly wide open. She tried several times to catch her breath, suffocated with panic.

When she finally felt the air returning to her chest, she threw her head back, savouring the relief that this sensation gave her, although her lungs were burning. She felt as if she had survived a drowning. She took a number of deep breaths, her whole body protesting, trembling. Her head hurt like hell, and her leg hurt terribly. She kept her eyes half-closed for a long time, dazed by the neon light that was pointed at her.

She let her head fall to one side. She couldn't see anything around her, everything was black. She looked up at the ceiling: there it was again, a rusty metal wall.

It's a nightmare...

"And believe me, it's only the beginning," she suddenly heard somewhere in the shadows.

It made her jump. She tried to straighten herself up, but just couldn't. Something was holding back her. She could hardly raise her head, nor move her limbs, she understood it was because of big leather straps, which blocked her body on a large metal table.

"What the...?", she said, her breathing suddenly accelerating.

Morgau came out of the shadows, staring at her with her pale, faded look. She had shed her skin coat, revealing her frail silhouette. Her metallic black corset shone under the neon lights. Numerous scars and marks laced her face and a good part of her body. Lara observed her features as a young girl, so tired and worn out by life already.

"I really want to tell you I'm impressed by your resistance and strength, Miss Croft. But I won't give you this compliment, I wouldn't swell your head."

"Don't be that jealous Vasiley, I'm sure your master is just as eager to compliment you."

The girl ticked. She straightened up slightly and moved a step closer to the table on which the young lady was laying. Her eyes shone with an unhealthy glow.

"You are fascinating. Are you always that arrogant? Is that how you protect yourself?"

"A matter of education, I guess."

Morgau escaped a cynical chuckle. The two women stared at each other for a moment, eye to eye. What the adventuress saw in those empty pupils had a strange effect on her: nothing, absolutely nothing was apparent in the young warrior's eyes, as if empty of any life or emotion. Lara felt her pulse racing as she suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

She escaped a cry of pain, taken by surprise. A sharp pain ran down her arm: she realised that Morgau was cutting a deep gash into her skin with a small, sharp knife. The adventuress clenched her fists and teeth.

She did not catch her breath until Morgau had finished sliding the blade down her arm.

"Where are the scrolls?"

The sentry's voice was flat, unemotional. She raised the blade to the level of the young woman's neck, pointing to the carotid artery.

"Go ahead Vasiley, slit my throat."

The two women looked at each other. Morgau leaned a little more towards her.

"What's the point? We already slit it off a few moments ago, we can try something else altogether."

Lara swallowed with difficulty.

"You're right. It would be a shame to finish me off before I give you some answers. Master Karel would undoubtedly be very upset if you, poor lackey you are, didn't kindly report the information he asked for."

Vasiley gave her a violent punch in the face. The adventuress's head went backwards and she let out another cry of pain. She felt a warm liquid dripping from her nose, and she suspected that one of her lips was also damaged. The wound on her arm suddenly woke up, burning atrociously, like a sharp burn. Lara straightened her head as best as she could, and spat towards the sentry, who reacted immediately by punching her again. The Englishwoman was stunned, and for a moment she stared into the void.

"Where's the rest of the scrolls, you fucking slut?"

"Why does it matter?", Lara asked in a fainted voice.

"Where is the Nephilim base? What did you find out?", the girl suddenly shouted out in anger.

The sentinel hit the adventuress again, who watched her without understanding. Another fist, this time in the belly, hit her hard. The adventuress's body folded in half and blood came out of her mouth. She let out a groan of pain. She tried to pull on the straps that held her, without success, before a violent coughing fit took hold of her. She fell backwards softly, some locks of hair stuck to her face.

"Or maybe your asshole boyfriend has the answers?"

Morgau had leaned towards her again, her voice whistling like that of a snake. Lara looked at her out of the corner of her eye and felt her heart squeeze into her chest. The sentry escaped a small sceptical laugh.

"Oh, look at this, are you worried about him? How cute is that."

A whiff of rage seized the adventuress. Morgau gave her a disconcertingly sweet smile.

"Don't worry, Gunderson is going to take care of him, I promise you everything's gonna be fine."

Lara clenched her fists, her lips pursed. She gave the girl a murderous look before this latter burst into laughing.

"You two are definitely too cute to handle, that's really a pity you just couldn't say goodbye to each other."

Lara didn't answer, she just kept at staring at the ceiling. She felt Morgau leaning over her ear and whispering.

"Did you have time to fuck at least?"

"Screw you, Vasiley."

The sentinel grabbed her violently by the throat, blocking her head against the metal table.

"Mind your language, Miss Uptight. Have I touched a sore point?"

Lara pursed her lips a little harder, holding silence. A piercing pain began to form in her skull as Morgau watched her without batting an eyelid. The sentinel finally let go of her throat, and dragged the small knife between her fingers in a theatrical gesture. Then, she grasped it and stick it into the adventuress'hand. She exerted pressure, and the point of the weapon gradually plunged into the flesh. Lara tensed herself from head to toe, desperately trying to resist the pain.

"You can scream if you want."

"I won't do you this honour."

Morgau gloated. The Englishwoman took her breath as she could, her jaw locked and her teeth clenched. Then, with a sharp gesture, the sentry grabbed the knife and pulled it abruptly out of the young woman's hand. Her hysterical laughter finally returned to silence and mutated into something much more insane. Lara could read the madness in her eyes.

"If physical torture doesn't work, then we'll try something else. Again."

The pain in the adventuress' head gradually increased until it became unbearable. Tears came to her eyes. She had the impression her skull was going to explode into a thousand pieces. She held on as long as she could, to the breaking point. Everything turned black.

The door slammed, and made him jump. But his gaze remained staring at the ground, his head leaning towards. He no longer knew how long he had been held there, tied to those chains that sawed his wrists off. Drops of sweat were slowly sliding along his jawlines and from his forehead. Folded in on himself, slumped against the damp wall, he observed the feet of the man who was approaching him.

"Still have nothing to tell me?", the deep voice asked him.

His jaw made him suffer horribly. He took a long time before he was able to articulate properly.

"Go fuck yourself?"

The young man waited for a blow to fall down on him, but nothing happened. The man in front of him did not move.

"To be frank with you, Trent, you're wasting your talents. I know your abilities, you would have had a special place and role among us."

"Great, I was looking for a job."

An ironic smile appeared on the face of the mercenary facing him.

"I don't understand you, Trent."

The young man's head rolled to one side. He tried to look up at his enemy.

"Understand what? That the world will be destroyed and no one will survive if Karel resurrects the Nephili?"

"You're being ridiculous to tell me that, sounds like a tirade straight out of a book."

"And you are fucking naive to think Karel will give you the power and eternal life he promised you..."

A small laugh escaped Gunderson.

"Don't be that frustrated, your turn will come soon enough. A new world will open up for us. A new power, a new balance will be established. Too bad you won't be around to see it."

"Bullshits."

The man with the imposing silhouette folded his hands in front of him, his eyes still focused on the mercenary slumped to the ground. He noticed the many wounds on the young man's naked torso and his bloody bloated face. His locks mingled with the sweat and blood on his tired face. A deep gash on his side almost revealed a piece of bone. Moskin and Poporov had not been idle.

"What are you planning to do? Stop us?"

A silence fell between the two men. Gunderson came one step closer. His tone remained calm and incisive.

"The Lux Veritatis no longer exists, you are yourself almost dead... so technically there is no one left who can stop us now. The little hope you had of stopping us is gone, it seems to me. Why do you continue to fight like this when you know the fight is already lost?"

Kurtis didn't answer, his fists clenched in the heavy chains. He remained silent, supporting the black eyes of the mercenary who contemplated him with contempt. Slowly, Gunderson took another step forward and knelt down at the mercenary's level, his hands folded in front of him.

"It's because of her, isn't it?"

Kurtis didn't blink, clenching his teeth to contain all the rage that was building up inside him.

"I'm not sure she's in very good shape either... they've had a bit of fun with Morgau."

"You fucking bastards."

This time, the fist hit him violently, throwing his head to the side again. The back of his skull banged against the wall, he felt dizzy for a moment. Gunderson let a moment of silence pass, until the young man came back to his senses. Kurtis grimaced and returned to his original sitting position. He was struggling to breathe because of the wound on his side. He let himself go backwards against the cold wall.

The door slammed again. Gunderson stood up and exchanged a few brief words in Russian with the guard who had just came in, before the man disappeared through the door again.

"I've understand that you won't say anything, Trent."

"Actually you're the one who trained me to resist torture, if I remember correctly. Isn't it a bit ironic?"

"I've had enough of your bullshit. It's time to take it to the next level. You and your girlfriend are real sticky buggers..."

Kurtis fell silent again, his head bent over one of his shoulders.

"Where is she?", he muttered between his clenched teeth.

Gunderson looked down at him for a few seconds, pretending not to understand. He took a detached look, putting his index finger to his temple, as if he was pondering the question. His casual attitude made Kurtis even more furious; he emitted a grunt.

"You mean the little adventurous bitch, I guess?"

Kurtis didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on Gunderson, who smiled evily at him. The mercenary suddenly stood up and turned his back on him, still thinking. He was now slowly walking into circles.

"Moskin!", he barked.

The cell door opened almost instantly. Two guards made their entrance, their faces impassive. They were both supporting a body, which seemed completely lifeless, just like a rag doll.

They walked a few steps into the cell and dropped Lara, who collapsed in front of Kurtis. Stunned, she laid on the floor, her head crushed against the damp, icy ground, her arms locked under her own body, too weak to fight. Kurtis strained his arms, pulling with all his might on the chain that held him. He hung over Lara in despair, unable to reach her. She no longer had the strength to even look up at him. Her face was horribly swollen, and big scratches shone under the strands of hair. Her upper lip had been badly bruised, no doubt by a punch. Her pants were covered with black marks and had some tears, through which bloody wounds were visible. She had a huge wound on her arm, a fairly deep one on her hand, and many others on the rest of her body. Kurtis immediately felt the woman's fatigue and physical pain, which he tried to control as best he could so as not to be overwhelmed in his turn. His head was buzzing, cluttered by the mixture of emotions that swirled around the room. Lara slowly woke up with a start, and rolled gently to one side. She folded her arms so that she could reach up on her elbows and straighten herself up. Dizzy, she just couldn't do it and tilted back again, this time on her back. Her helpless gaze crossed Kurtis'. Bare-chested and covered in dirt, he too looked bad and exhausted.

They observed each other for a few seconds.

I'm sorry, she heard in her head.

In an almost imperceptible movement, she gave him back a bitter smile. Gunderson watched them for a short moment, and walked a few steps towards the young woman.

"Well, well, well... So that's it," he said.

He emitted a small snigger. His eyes met Kurtis'; a flame glowed in his black eyes. A pervert smile appeared on his twisted face.

"We may have found a way to finally make you talk, Trent."

He snapped his fingers. One of the two guards walked up to the young woman and grabbed her by the hair. Lara let out a small cry of stupor, kicking her torturer's arm.

"She's a tough whore, I must admit. She didn't want to talk either, but maybe you will, if we find the sore spot. What do you think? How about we take care of her?"

The guard let go of the young woman and came to tackle her to the ground, blocking her arms above her head. She emitted a new moan of protest, as she struggled beneath his grip. Gunderson knelt at her level and put his stocky hands on her thighs, pushing his nails into the fabric of her pants. Lara beat her legs a little more furiously.

Gunderson threw a nasty, perverse smile at her, taking advantage of his size to impose himself on her. He then raised his gaze to meet Kurtis'.

"I've always wondered how do the English Bourgeois women taste like."

The remark struck Kurtis head-on. He gave a sharp blow on the chain that was holding him back, his wrists sawed off to the point of blood.

Gunderson leaned a little more on Lara's thighs, trying to force her to keep her legs on the ground. But the young adventuress, revived by disgust, was struggling harder and harder, beating the air with her legs. She managed to give Gunderson a few kicks, but he didn't seem to react.

Visibly annoyed, he escaped a theatrical sigh; he took a small knife out of one of his lattice pockets and with a sharp gesture, he came to point it at Lara's throat.

"Stop moving, you fucking slut!"

He then grabbed her T-shirt and stuck his knife into it to tear it appart. Then, looking down at her breast then to her lower part, he grabbed her hurt leg and finished tearing up her trousers with the small blade, before doing the same on the other leg. He stuck the weapon between his teeth, grabbed the rags of cloth and tore them in jerks and turns. He quickly undid the young woman's belt and removed what was left of her pants. She found herself in her underwear, shivering with cold and anger on the cell floor. Kurtis struck his chain again, as if the irons would eventually give way.

Gunderson looked up at him briefly, savoring the situation. He then returned to the young woman lying beneath him. Grabbing his weapon, he pointed her throat again, and slowly lowered the blade to the young woman's chest. He played with the weapon for a brief moment, drawing shapes on her skin, before stopping it vertically between her breasts. With the palm of his hand, he came to press the handle of the knife; the point of the weapon sank into the flesh. Lara clenched her teeth and held back a cry of pain as the blade cut her skin seriously and blood began to flow.

"Shall I keep going?"

Gunderson kept staring at her with the same pervert smile. The young woman held his gaze with coldness. She heard Kurtis scream from the other side of the cell.

"We've told you we know nothing, you fucking piece of shit!"

This time Gunderson didn't even look at the mercenary.

"Good!", he replied. "If this doesn't work, I'll find another solution."

A loud laugh escaped the torturer, and resonated in the small cell. Kurtis then saw him grab the knife, and with a gesture as precise as sudden, stick it into the young woman's thigh.

This time she could not hold back a cry of pain, which tore the air. She bent over, throwing her head back, tears streaming down her cheeks. After the shock of the pain, she fell softly on the ground. Kurtis let out a scream as well, burying his face in his elbow.

"You fucking son of a bitch!", he yelled.

The guard who had been holding Lara until then rose abruptly and approached Kurtis with a quick step. He gave him a violent punch in the face, then another in the abdomen. The mercenary felt one of the scratches open again under the power of the guard's fist. A hot sensation on the ribs and a sharp burn indicated that the wound had started bleeding again. He gave in to the pain, bent over and collapsed against the wall. He felt nausea rising inside him and his head began to turn. He felt the guard come behind him and grab him by the neck, blocking his throat with his elbow. The guard held him tight, so that he could not move his head and only stare straight in front of him. He tried to make some movements of shoulders to get rid of the man, but didn't manage to. Through his eyes covered with blood, he saw Lara trying to get up one more time, but Gunderson knocked her down and she finally fell back to the ground, face down. The mercenary blocked the woman's head against the cold ground and with his other hand, undid his own belt. The young woman let out another cry of despair. Gunderson took one more glance at Kurtis.

"What do you think, Trent? Are you having fun too?"

The mercenary let out a grunt of rage. He was suffocating, and the blood was running hard into his temples. He heard the guard who held him laugh.

Suddenly there was a thud and the floor and walls began to shake around them. Gunderson and the guard suddenly stopped moving, and everyone in the cell held their breath, rising up their heads as they tried to listen carefully.

Another thud echoed again, this time louder and closer. Kurtis felt the guard slightly letting go of his throat.

Something was burning from deep inside of him. An overpowering heat, starting from the deepest part of his being and diffusing in every inch of his body, just like a fever. His limbs got slowly numb.

He fainted, and everything went white around him.

His ears were whistling, his head was buzzing. A sizzling sound drummed against his temples, like the whistle of an alarm siren. He felt a movement beside him. The chains around his hands moved. Someone was leaning over him.

In a jolt of survival, he suddenly returned to himself, convinced that one of Gunderson's guards was approaching to finish him off. As a reflex he raised his hands in front of him to protect himself. Soft hands rested on his bruised shoulders, forcing him to lower his guard.

Through the blood and sweat, his gaze crossed a pair of eyes as blue as his own. A familiar face emerged, framed by blond hair. He blinked at high speed, he thought he was dreaming. He even thought he was simply dead.

"Kurtis, can you hear me?"

Her voice sounded unreal, distant. He realised he couldn't hear very well, as if all sounds around him were muffled.

"Look at me."

He stared blankly at the young woman in front of him. The chains that were holding him down suddenly collapsed in a metallic snap.

"Can you stand up?", Sasha asked.

The young man grunted, completely stunned. He massaged his wrists to relieve them a little. Then he leaned against the wall to try to get up. The young woman put one arm around his waist and pushed to help him. The mercenary breathed a sigh of pain as his body stood up.

"What happened?", he asked in a cracking voice.

"You tell me," replied the young woman.

There was a nameless chaos in the room. Thick smoke filled the small cell, there was wood and metal debris everywhere. The cell door was wide open, ripped open just like it would have been by a shock wave. In one corner, Gunderson had collapsed against the opposite wall, stunned. The guard who was holding him back was lying on the floor some meters away, his neck forming an angle which indicated that he had not withstood the shock, whatever it was.

Suddenly in panic, Kurtis looked around him in all directions.

"Where's Lara?"

He tried to take a step forward, but his legs bent under their own weight. Sasha barely caught up with him.

"Easy, boy! She's fine, don't worry."

The mercenary grabbed hold of the Russian woman. They straightened up, and stepped forward to get out of the cell. The corridor they came into was filled with smoke and a cloud of dust, nothing could be seen for more than a few metres. There was total confusion.

"Follow me."

The young woman led him without hesitation through the maze of corridors that formed the corridors of this fortress. They crossed the path of an armed man, who was holding a bag and a few things in his hands, which Kurtis noticed as his and Lara's belongings.

"We get out of here!", the young woman yelled.

The man in uniform followed their movement. They progressed underground for a moment, in the continuous noise of the security alarms. They walked past many small cells like the one in which he had been kept, and other rooms that were obviously used as headquarters.

The corridors seemed endless, everything looked the same down there. on their way, they stepped over several bodies which he assumed to be those of Gunderson's agents. After a long moment, which seemed interminable to the limping mercenary leaning against Sasha, they saw a group of several men coming together in the opacity of the place.

"Come on over here!", someone yelled through the smoke.

Someone was waving at them. They all turned towards the Russian and the American. Among four or five other men, a much smaller figure appeared. A woman walked towards the two young people. Her black hair flapped behind her as she rushed towards them.

"Kurtis!"

She rushed at the young man, grabbing his face to check that he was all right. Their blue eyes met. The mercenary smiled faintly. One of the men in uniform walked towards Sasha, gun in hand.

"Everything's clear."

"Ok, everyone back up!", the young woman yelled.

The group started to move. Some of the men stepped aside to let the three of them pass, before closing the march behind them.

They went into yet another corridor, before arriving to an idea open armoured door. A draught rushed through the tunnel and hit them head on. Kurtis shivered. He continued to follow Sasha's movement until they went through the door and, in the hubbub of the sirens, they finally emerged into the open air. They found themselves in total darkness, swept away by the freezing cold.

A few feet away, he saw the young Roman standing in front of an old van. The back door was wide open, revealing a body lying on the back seat. Kurtis rushed over.

Roman heard him coming, and seemed to suddenly change from terror to relief at the sight of the mercenary. Kurtis gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, before lowering his eyes to his companion, who lay there unconscious. He bent down towards her, first putting his hand on her forehead and then on her cheek. She was dreadfully pale, almost livid. The wounds on her thigh and arms were still bleeding. Her breathing was weak, almost non-existent.

Don't do this to me...

"She's in bad shape," Roman murmured.

The two men exchanged a worried look. The little woman with black hair approached them gently.

"I can feel she is not, indeed…"

Kurtis looked up at her.

"...we have to hurry," the woman concluded.

Understanding the implication, they all began to move. Roman rushed to the front of the van to join Mikhaïl, who had been waiting for them all this time. Sasha then came to them, running: after giving her last orders, the men in uniforms had dispersed into the night. She went up in turn, joining her father and brother in the front seats.

Kurtis quickly climbed into the back of the van, closely followed by the black-haired woman. He didn't have time to slam the door behind her as Mikhaïl was already starting out in a hurry. Through the window separating the front and rear of the vehicle, Roman turned towards them, but was interrupted by the mercenary as he was about to speak.

"I'll tell you everything on the way. But first we have to find a shelter and something to heal Lara."