Okay, so basically Abberation 2.0 - if you've read what I did with Abberation, just chuck all of those memories and focus on this. Different twists, different endings; the only thing that hasn't changed is one thing and I won't ruin it for first time readers.
Read, review and enjoy - short first chapter is short.
There's the stench of sweat and unmistakable burn of rotting wood, the cackle of burly men through their bandanas and the click of the leaders Colt pointed down at Laura.
She doesn't notice it right away, mostly because she can only see out of one eye and the other is clouded over with blood anyhow; she tries to blink it away but there's no use, its sticky. She can see the wobbling outline of the men surrounding her, the snaps in thick Russian and the sound of someone screaming.
She was only in this position because of Whitman, who had been escorted quite politely out of the burning camp by the first man to confront them.
She'd get him back for this, if she made it out of this alive.
The supposed leader of the band - who the others refer to as Ezekiel in Russian - is laughing down at her, a strange look on his face. Lara doesn't really care, she just wants to be free, she wants to go home. But the ropes on her wrists are tight and there's no getting off this island alone.
"Whore," he spits with venom and back hands her, sending Lara sprawling onto the cracked cobblestone that had once been a path to the shrine behind them.
She groans and then screams as he is upon her, several of the men cackling and watching in utter joy as the burly man atop her laughs, hands groping at her breasts and his knee jamming firmly between her thighs. She struggles and thrashes on the ground beneath him, begging and sputtering, trying to get her hands free but to no avail.
"Вы Imbecile," a shrill voice cuts through the air and the men around them tense, look at a figure Lara cannot see because of the one still writhing against her. "Ty znayesh' luchshe!"
The man is wrenched from Lara, who lets out another scream and kicks against the ground with her boots. Her eyes rolls up and find a woman suddenly in front of her, hair as red as the fire around them. Her head snaps down to Lara, a frightening anger on her face as she levels a pistol at Ezekiel's head; he doesn't lunge with her distraction like Lara expects.
"Zhenshchiny idut Matiasu," the woman snaps and stuffs the pistol into one of the holsters strapped to her thighs. "Ubeyte drugikh. Nayti vyzhivshikh," she crouches down beside Lara, silhouetted by the flash of a gun behind her; people are screaming. "Girl," there is no Russian accent anymore, something fluid but foreign. "You are mine now."
She says it slowly, like she's letting it sink in. And that's how Lara takes it, but also stares in horror at the woman who straightens above her, quips at the men who cower like dogs around her.
Who is she?
"Voz'mite yeye s moimi kvartalov . Kristofer , Deymon - sleduyte za mnoy," she snaps her fingers at two of the men and they nod, stalking close behind as she disappears in the direction she had come.
There's more claps of gun fire and the blood curdling cries of those that tried to hide. Lara is hauled to her feet, voice stuck in her throat but her lips are pliable and the manages to whirl around, sink her teeth into Ezekiel's throat. He roars in anger and wrenches her from him, knocking her back against a tree and blurring her vision. She groans as she sinks slowly to the ground, staring up with one good eye as he levels a gun at her head.
So much for adventure, her mind hisses bitterly.
Her eye drifts shut and all she hears is a clap of gunfire.
"Prinesite mne bol'she vody."
God speaks Russian?
Lara's eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly at the glare of an oil lamp in the corner of the room. She tries to bolt upright - like her muscles scream - but her hands and ankles are tied, making for difficulties. She arches her neck, left and right, then all around; her nostrils flare and inhale the bite of musk and mold.
The walls are made of ancient, red-painted wood and there are paper doors to her left; that would also be a makeshift wall. There are candles dripping onto the floor from hung braziers on either side of the bed and they give the room a faint cinnamon smell, but its not enough. She's happy the sheets have no smell because she has to bury her face in them in several attempts to sit up.
"Stupid girl," Lara freezes. "Sit still, you're getting nowhere."
The woman - or rather girl now that she isn't made hard and cruel by fire light - is suddenly in her vision, at the edge of the bed. She is wearing a white kimono with stains of red around the hem. Its loose and sags on her right shoulder, flame-red hair contrasting starkly with the fabric. She looks soft in this setting, so much younger than she did before; her eyes are an alien green.
"You're lucky I was on that hunt," she murmurs and grabs Lara roughly by the wrists, rolling her over and pressing her face down into the mattress. "They would have fucked you and fed your body to the wolves."
Her tone was soft and scolding, like a mother whose child ate an extra cookie; the simple thought sent a sharp shiver down her spine.
Lara winced when she felt a cools scrape of a blade against her wrist before they were free. She didn't sit up right away, listened to the stranger shuffle away. When Lara did sit up, she saw the girl had cut her binds free and was poking her head out of a door she hadn't noticed before. Lara couldn't hear her perfectly, but she was definitely speaking in Russian again.
"Men are stupid," she shut the door softly. "They are good for fighting, but their strength does little for me."
"I could attack you," the threat comes out shaky so no good.
The girl cracks a smile. "No you can't," she shook her head slowly. "No windows, no doors that aren't bolted or don't need keys - Solarii on every floor now that the blizzard is hitting," the girl brushes her hair back and reaches for the door again. "Don't try to do anything stupid, okay? I saved you from them but don't think I won't kill you myself."
The threat lingers before the door is shut. Once it is, Lara honestly cannot find it in her to jump up and try to find away out like she should. She just sits in the center of the bed, trying to wrap her brain around just what has happened.