Broken Sword: The Serpent's Curse

Prologue for my latest Broken Sword novelization, one from the most recent game, which according to Charles Cecil himself actually takes place third in the series, anwyay, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Broken Sword or its characters.

Prologue

NICO POV

I sighed as I finished getting dressed in front of the mirror, my reflection perfectly matched my irritation. My name is Nico Collard, a Caucasian French Photojournalist for La Liberte Newspaper. I had allowed my black hair to once more grown out, now shoulder length, my brown eyes were narrowed and showed distaste as I pulled a black jacket on over the white T-shirt I was wearing, I also wore a red mid-thigh skirt and black tights with dark brown heels. The reason for my anger was simple, my editor Ronnie had just screwed me over. He had got me going yesterday by calling me into his office and rattling off a list of major news stories, then told me I wouldn't be covering any of them. No, instead I was to cover a disappointing minor story about some tiny art gallery in Montmartre called Le Lézard Bleu, a failing gallery that was having some exhibition, no doubt to try and restore its fortunes.

"All this for a crummy photo in the back pages of the arts supplement." I grumbled. "Another assignment like this one, Ronnie. It won't be a story you'll be getting, it'll be my notice."

With that I stalked out my apartment and began making my way to the gallery.

I continued to walk purposefully along the path until I reached the gallery itself, only to see a familiar figure approaching, one I hadn't seen in quite some time. A tall slightly build Caucasian man with blonde hair cut short at the back but left somewhat long at the front, with blue eyes. He was wearing a simple pair of jeans, a plain red T-shirt, black jacket and brown shoes. Despite the changes there was no mistaking him and he certainly recognized me when he saw me.

"Nico!"

I gasped. "George!"

It was my old friend, and former flame, George Stobbart.

"What a surprise." He continued.

I smirked. "What a coincidence."

I was starting to suspect it wasn't mere chance we'd met like this.

"You going in here?" George asked, gesturing to the gallery door.

"I am."

He pushed it opened and smiled politely. "After you."

With a small smile I entered. While our romantic relationship hadn't worked out, George and I were still friends and while he hadn't seen each other for a while, I knew he was living and working in France these days, as an insurance assessor for a pretty big firm, Paris Mutual. Albeit, working for the infamous Rickenbacker, notorious amongst insurance companies for his temper and his desperate attempts to avoid paying out on claims, using any legal means possible. Le Lézard Bleu was a rather small gallery, a single room with a section of the square shape taken out in a small square as an office, walls and a door with a keypad on it blocking it. The walls had various paintings, the biggest of which was one around the corner against the back wall, I stood by this painting along with George, I briefly noted the title of the painting, La Maledicció.

Trying to ignore the unsettling painting, I looked around briefly, noting that three other people were present. But I focused mainly on George.

"You didn't tell me you were back in Paris, George." I remarked.

"We should catch up." He said cheerfully. "Let's have...lunch?"

He trailed off since at that moment the door opened and a heavyset man wearing a motorcycle helmet and carrying a pizza box, entered.

"Nobody move!" He yelled out in an English accent, muffled by the helmet.

From within the pizza box he had just drawn a gun. George moved to try and shield me, but I wasn't having it, I had already slipped out my phone and was stealthily taking pictures. During all this the gunman had moved right around to La Maledicció and took it from the wall, then the gallery owner tried to intervene.

"No M'sieur, not La Maledicció-"

But then the gun went off and he dropped dead. It was then another of those present, a rather heavyset man with grey hair, fainted against the wall.

"Stay back." The gunman said, his voice surprisingly shaky as he made his exit.

While he ran off, George and the final man present, a priest, knelt by the gallery owner, I wasted no time however and, camera at the ready, I hurried out after the robber. I had a sneaking suspicion that once again, George and I were about to get caught up in yet another big mystery, just like we had already done twice before.

End of chapter, hope you enjoyed it, read and review please.