Chapter 7: On the Run
Back Streets of Paris
Paris
16 November 2003
22:00
Lara Croft
The place Lara found herself in exuded an eerie stillness, its desolation mirrored by the abandoned surroundings. Seeking an escape from her pursuers, she ventured cautiously to her right, her steps a careful dance across the uneven ground. Hope for an exit was quickly dashed as she encountered a locked gate, a physical barrier that stood between her and freedom. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips as she retraced her steps, her gaze drawn upwards to where the rooftops offered an alternative path.
"Three sets of balconies," her eyes scanned the ascending lines of balconies that adorned the building's exterior. The plan formed in her mind like an unspoken pact with her instincts. "I might just climb my way out of here."
Her determination set the course of her actions. Turning to her left, her gaze fell upon a nearby dumpster, its weathered exterior telling tales of neglect. Careful consideration painted her features as she assessed its potential. "Looks like it can hold my weight," her assessment was a calculated guess, and her next move bore the weight of her belief.
Climbing onto the dumpster, her muscles coiled with anticipation. The jump was swift, her body propelled by the instinct for survival. With one hand gripping the balcony's edge, her athleticism and tenacity came into play. The other hand joined in, her arms flexing as she pulled herself up, muscles straining but resolve unshaken.
A momentary reprieve greeted her as she stood on the balcony, the expanse of space leading her onward. Her gaze followed the curvature of the balcony as it traced a corner, leading her into an unknown realm. The ladder that materialized before her was a new challenge, an invitation to ascend to new heights. Yet, her instincts weighed the possibilities – a gate loomed in her direct path, a potential barricade guarded by unseen foes.
The realization settled in her mind – guards stood beyond that gate, their presence a testament to the gravity of her predicament. Time was not on her side, and her decision was swift. Scaling the ladder became an act of urgency, her movements fluid and precise as she reached the next balcony, her form shielded from the guards' prying eyes.
Stepping onto the second balcony, Lara's senses were attuned to every shift in the air. Birds scattered as she approached, their wings carrying away the echoes of her presence. Another ladder beckoned, a passage upwards that held the promise of a reprieve from the guards' vigilance. Beside the ladder, an open window framed an abandoned room, a haven that could offer resources for her journey.
"Should be something useful there," her intuition whispered, urging her to slip through the window and into the unknown. With practiced ease, she maneuvered herself through the window's frame, her landing silent like a secret shared only between her and the darkness. The room enveloped her, its shadows offering sanctuary as she assessed her surroundings, her heart a rhythm of anticipation that harmonized with the rhythm of the rain outside.
The room before Lara was a tableau of disarray, a testimony to neglect and abandonment. Its atmosphere weighed heavy with the scent of decay, a lingering reminder of time's unforgiving touch. Lara's gaze settled upon the small kitchen, its cardboard doors and drawers a testament to the meager existence that had once occupied the space. A search revealed little – a mere 100 Euros, a paltry sum that offered no solace in her predicament.
Turning her focus away from the kitchen, Lara's eyes fell upon a bed that lay overturned, its mattress missing like a puzzle piece left behind. The room's dilapidation was a testament to its forsaken state. She concluded that exploring further would yield no further insights, her determination resolute as she headed for the window that beckoned her to the rooftops.
Climbing out and ascending to the third balcony, Lara's eyes assessed the canopy that encircled a drainpipe, its potential as a makeshift ladder evident. The challenge presented by the jump to the canopy was not lost on her, yet her resolve outweighed her trepidation. "I think I can make it," her self-assurance was a mantra that propelled her forward.
With a few paces back, her body gathered momentum. The jump was a leap of faith, the edge of the canopy her lifeline. As her fingers gripped the edge, her muscles flexed with effort, hauling her body to safety. The breaths that followed were measured, a rhythm of calm that echoed within her chest.
Moments passed, and Lara's feet found purchase on the rooftop's surface. Her gaze swept across her surroundings, a quiet acknowledgment that her determination had borne fruit. "I made it," the words whispered on her breath, her mind already shifting to the next phase of her escape.
A purposeful stride led her across the rooftop, her focus unwavering. Another opening beckoned on her left, a balcony below her that offered a new avenue. Lowering herself onto the balcony, her movement was fluid and practiced, leading her to the other side. A gate stood before her, a ladder its companion as it descended downwards.
A sound caught Lara's attention, her senses on high alert. Her instincts took over as she entered stealth mode, her movements cautious as she peeked around a corner. The sight that met her eyes was that of a guard, engrossed in his patrols, unaware of her presence. A key hung from his belt, a tempting prize that held potential freedom.
"I need to get that key," determination etched into every fiber of her being, Lara approached with precision. Swift action followed – a grip around his neck, a punch that incapacitated him. The key was liberated, a crucial tool in her race against time. Unlocking the gate, Lara descended the ladder, her movements swift and purposeful.
As her feet touched the ground, the world around her was a symphony of anticipation. A bridge beckoned, its path seemingly unguarded, yet a sudden realization shattered her composure – a helicopter's blades slicing through the air above. Without hesitation, she kicked open an old apartment door and rushed inside, sealing herself away from the pursuing gaze of the sky.
Breathless and heart-pounding, Lara's thoughts raced ahead. Sprinting upwards, she reached the last floor, a final sanctuary before her. Yet, the world below churned in chaos. The doors burst open, gas grenades clattering to the floor, their ominous presence a harbinger of the turmoil that threatened to consume her.
The precipice of danger awaited, and Lara's resolve was tested. Her journey was a symphony of challenges, each step a declaration of her determination to unravel the mysteries that had thrust her into the shadows. With the storm of pursuit looming overhead, she stood poised, ready to navigate the labyrinth of danger and deceit that stretched before her.
The urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air – the threat of the gas grenades looming like a shadow, propelling Lara into swift action. Her mind raced, seeking an escape route from the impending danger that threatened to engulf her. Her eyes scanned the hall, her gaze drawn to the boxes and crates that populated the space. The realization dawned – another door, a potential path to salvation.
With a powerful kick, the door yielded to her determination, revealing a passage to the rooftops beyond. Lara wasted no time, stepping outside and sealing the door shut behind her. A wire stretched across the expanse, a lifeline to another rooftop. Her calculated leap propelled her onto the wire, her body moving with the fluid grace of a predator.
The helicopter's spotlight swept the rooftops, the world below reduced to a surreal dance of light and shadows. With the helicopter in pursuit, Lara's movements were a testament to her resolve. Jumping to the next rooftop, she navigated the labyrinthine journey with a grace that defied the chaos that pursued her. Another balcony, another building's rooftop – each step carried her closer to her goal.
A moment of stillness gripped her as she surveyed the rooftop before her. The drainpipe stood as a potential bridge to her destination, Carvier's apartment. Determination etched into her features, she gathered herself for the leap. The wind whispered encouragement, and with a powerful jump, her fingers closed around the drainpipe's cool metal surface. Descending with purpose, she clung to the drainpipe, the helicopter's watchful eye following her every move.
Safely on the ground, Lara's breaths were a cadence of relief, her body aching from the exertion. Carvier's apartment block beckoned in the distance, a beacon of hope in the night. Swift steps carried her closer, her anticipation growing with each passing second. The apartment block's facade emerged from the shadows, and Lara's arrival was imminent.
As she emerged from the concealment of the shadows near the entrance, a sense of caution gripped her. The midnight hour had rendered the streets deserted, yet a faint rustling caught her attention. Instincts honed by danger led her to a hiding spot behind bushes, her breath held as two police officers passed by. Exhaling, Lara seized the moment and emerged from her sanctuary, her resolve unshaken.
The door's bell echoed in the silence, a resolute announcement of her presence. The path she had tread, a symphony of danger and determination, had led her to this moment – standing before Carvier's apartment, a world of answers and uncertainties awaiting her behind the door.
"Who is it?" Carvier's voice resounded through the intercom.
"Mademoiselle Carvier, it's Lara Croft. I need your help," Lara's words carried a note of urgency, a plea wrapped in determination.
The door's click of approval released her from the threshold of uncertainty. Ascending the stairs to Carvier's apartment, Lara's anticipation grew, her knocks a resonant echo that bridged the gap between them. A woman of experience answered, her features etched with the marks of time, her eyes wise with years of insight. "Ms. Croft, I recognize you from photos and Werner's description. Please come in," her voice held a blend of formality and warmth.
"Thank you," Lara's gratitude was sincere as she stepped inside. The apartment revealed itself, a canvas of modesty and simplicity. A living room emerged, a desk occupying one corner, while two chairs faced each other across a coffee table. The absence of a television was replaced by a small radio, its presence evoking a sense of nostalgia. The living room flowed seamlessly into the kitchen, a testament to practicality. Adjacent to the kitchen lay the bedroom, an intimate space that held untold stories.
Taking her seat, Lara's gaze settled upon Carvier, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Conversation danced in the air, the weight of their circumstances unspoken yet palpable. "An evil night to be out alone, Ms. Croft," Carvier's words acknowledged the perils of the world outside, the once-familiar streets now fraught with danger.
Lara's voice carried the weight of her experiences, the urgency in her tone unmistakable. "Mademoiselle Carvier, I just came from Werner's apartment." The admission hung in the air, carrying with it a somber truth.
A cloud of shock and grief shrouded Carvier's features as Lara revealed the painful truth. "How was Werner?" her voice was laced with concern, her instinctual response a testament to their shared history.
"I'm afraid Werner is dead," the words lingered, a heavy sigh punctuating the revelation.
"Dead!" Carvier's exclamation was a sharp exhalation, the disbelief mingling with sorrow.
"Mademoiselle, are you okay? Can I get you anything?" Lara's offer of comfort was genuine, a gesture of empathy that sought to ease the weight of their shared grief.
Carvier's raised hand was a motion of restraint, her composure regained as she invited Lara to recount the events that had led to this moment. "How was Werner killed? What happened?" her voice held a mixture of curiosity and concern, an unspoken plea for understanding.
"It's all a bit vague," Lara's admission was a reflection of her own struggle to piece together the fragments of memory that remained. "I arrived at his apartment today from London. He was babbling with fear."
"He told me he tried to contact you," The revelation unveiled a connection that went beyond the present circumstances, a bond that had transcended the passage of time.
"He did. I never expected that" Lara's words carried a note of surprise, her thoughts briefly traversing the landscape of their shared past. "Not after Egypt."
As the pieces of the puzzle began to align, Carvier's recollection unveiled a pattern of fear that had gripped Werner's life. "Werner has been fearful for his life. He accepted a commission five weeks ago, and since then, he's been acting strangely. Even jumping at shadows." Carvier's voice held a mixture of concern and sadness, her words painting a picture of Werner's descent into paranoia.
"He left a package with me for safekeeping," Carvier's admission held a tone of gravity, a testament to the trust that had existed between them.
Lara's curiosity was piqued as Carvier continued, the details of the commission and the figure that had commissioned it coming into focus. "Who was the commission from?"
"The client's name was Eckhardt," Carvier's revelation was a pivotal moment, a name that resonated with a sense of foreboding.
Lara's eyebrow arched, the name striking a chord within her. "Eckhardt," her voice carried the weight of recognition, a puzzle piece fitting into place.
Carvier's admission continued, shedding light on the nature of the commission and the enigmatic Obscura Paintings that had become the focus of Werner's research. "Eckhardt wanted Werner to research something called the Obscura Paintings. Werner then approached me at my department at the Louvre."
Lara's mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle slowly forming a clearer image. "Wait, Obscura paintings?" her voice held a note of intrigue, her thoughts aligning with the fragments of information she had gathered.
"Five 15th-century images. Thought to be linked to Alchemy and the dark arts," Carvier's words painted a picture of intrigue and danger, a canvas that stretched beyond the boundaries of their understanding.
"Were you able to help him?" Lara's question held a thread of curiosity, seeking to understand the depth of Carvier's involvement.
Carvier's gaze turned inward, her emotions momentarily concealed. "A little, I think," her admission held a hint of remorse, a subtle acknowledgment of the limitations of her assistance. "Poor Werner was clearly terrified," Carvier's empathy painted a picture of a man trapped in the grip of fear.
"I wonder why exactly?" Lara's words held a note of contemplation, the mystery deepening as she sought to uncover the truth that had driven Werner to his fate.
Carvier's words offered insight into Werner's state of mind, his growing paranoia, and his belief that he was being stalked. As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Lara's mind raced, connecting the dots between Werner's fear, the enigmatic commission, and the shadowy figure named Eckhardt.
"He could well have been. The Monstrum is running around Paris according to the press," Lara's revelation offered a connection, a thread that tied the disparate elements of the story together.
Carvier's response was one of gravity, her words carrying the weight of reality. "Don't joke about the Monstrum. That murderer is a psychopath," her voice was tinged with a mixture of caution and sorrow.
Lara's thoughts raced, the connections forming a web of danger that stretched further than she had anticipated. "Look. Werner left a package here with me. I have to give it to you if anything happens to him," the gravity of the situation hung in the air, a testament to the trust that had existed between Werner and Carvier.
"Do you know what it is?" Lara's question held a note of curiosity, her eyes focused on Carvier's every move.
Carvier's demeanor shifted a subtle contemplation that gave way to a decision. "It's his field notebook," her admission was a window into the depth of Werner's research and the secrets it held.
"If he left his field notebook, then someone did in fact spook him," Lara's voice held a mixture of resolve and curiosity, her thoughts racing to uncover the truth that lay beneath the surface.
Carvier's gaze met Lara's, her eyes revealing a hint of skepticism. "Somebody killed Werner. You say you don't remember what happened."
The radio buzzed in the background, a reminder of the world outside their conversation. The truth began to unfold, the pieces of the puzzle aligning as Carvier's suspicions became clearer.
Carvier's stare held a mixture of doubt and concern, the weight of suspicion casting a shadow over their interaction. "Perhaps the police are right in suspecting you."
Lara's voice carried a note of defiance, her determination unyielding. "I never killed Werner!"
The tension in the room escalated, each word a reflection of the uncertainty that hung in the air. As the truth began to unravel, Carvier's decision became clear. "I think you'd better leave, Ms. Croft."
Lara's focus shifted, her thoughts now centered on the tangible solution before her. "Wait, what about the notebook?"
Carvier's actions spoke volumes, her journey to retrieve the notebook a testament to her commitment to Werner's wishes. "I am not sure this is the right thing to do, but I must respect what Werner wants," her admission held a note of hesitation, a consideration of the consequences.
"The right choice, Mademoiselle," Lara's words were a testament to her understanding, a recognition of the difficult decisions that had been made.
As the gravity of the situation became clearer, Carvier's voice carried a mixture of caution and concern. "And now you had better go. I'm calling the police. They'll be here in minutes." The finality of her words painted a stark reality, a reminder of the world outside.
Lara's departure was marked by a leap from the window, her escape into the night punctuated by the blaring sirens that chased her every step. The journey ahead was uncertain, a tapestry of danger and discovery waiting to be woven.
