Chapter 11: Rennes Pawn Shop
Parc de Lune
Paris
17 November 2003
11:10
Kurtis Trent
Kurtis emerged from the dimly lit church, the heavy wooden doors creaking behind him as he stepped out into the crisp morning air. The echoes of a choir's hymns lingered in the cold stone walls, wrapping him in a haunting embrace. The morning sun, with its gentle warmth, fought valiantly against the waning darkness, casting long, dramatic shadows that danced across the cobbled streets. These intricate patterns of light and shade accompanied him on his journey back towards his solitary motorbike.
Parked by Parc de Lune, his trusty machine stood alone, a steadfast sentinel bathed in the ethereal glow of both the waning sunlight and the soft hum of streetlamps. The juxtaposition of these opposing illuminations seemed to reflect the internal turmoil that Kurtis was grappling with.
As he leaned against the motorcycle, the leather of his gloves creaked softly when he carefully opened the file clasped within his trembling hand. The dossier was a compilation of photographs, a tangible evidence of a relentless pursuit that had consumed his life. Each image was a window into a clandestine world. Nearby, the tranquil park, where children played without a care, appeared blissfully ignorant of the weight that now bore heavily upon Kurtis' shoulders.
In the photographs, Zak, his ever-loyal ally, had left hurried scribbles and annotations. Kurtis couldn't help but be drawn into the scenes captured in those pictures. They revealed Eckhardt's elusive dance around the Louvre, the ancient stones of the museum bearing witness to his mysterious presence. Shadows obscured faces, and clandestine meetings unfolded in Werner von Croy's enigmatic apartment. There, amid the play of darkness and light, secrets were shared and alliances formed, leaving Kurtis to decipher the enigma that lay before him.
With furrowed brows and a gnawing sense of anxiety, Kurtis contemplated the images, his mind racing through a labyrinth of possibilities. "What was Eckhardt's purpose at the Louvre?" he mused aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper, a plea for answers that remained unanswered in the empty streets.
His weary eyes then fell upon a cryptic note, hastily written and accompanying the photographs. "Eckhardt is close to finding the first Obscura painting. Have to find a way to stop him," it read, the words etching themselves deeply into Kurtis' conscience. A maelstrom of emotions churned within him, a volatile mix of frustration and unwavering determination.
"Zak, what would you have done?" he wondered aloud, a pang of sorrow washing over him as he moved to the next note, longing for the guidance of his absent friend in this perilous journey of shadows and secrets.
Kurtis couldn't help but shake his head, his brow furrowing as he struggled to clear his thoughts and absorb the revelations contained within the photographs taken at Werner's apartment. "Eckhardt hired a man a few weeks ago to find and locate all five Obscura paintings. It seems Werner is closing in on the first one. But something is bothering the old man," the note disclosed, its cryptic message casting an ominous shadow over Kurtis.
The weight of this revelation settled deep within him like a leaden anchor, pulling at his gut with a sense of foreboding. He couldn't ignore the significance of Werner's involvement and the potential implications it held for their mission.
"Werner might have learned the truth of Eckhardt's plan," Kurtis speculated aloud, his voice tinged with a note of concern, as he strained to piece together the scattered fragments of information before him.
The photographs, filled with shadows and hidden agendas, hinted at even darker conspiracies yet to be unveiled. Two additional notes lay nestled between the final images of the enigmatic men. "Bouchard can't get out of this, even if he wants to. His men, friends, and family have been put on target by Eckhardt's right-hand man. Karel." Kurtis's frown deepened, his memory stirred by that name. It echoed with the cryptic warnings his father had once shared, hints of a hidden adversary lurking in the shadows.
"What did Father mean?" Kurtis wondered aloud, the mystery intensifying as he moved to the next note, his heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and determination.
A gasp escaped his lips as he read the chilling words written there. "We have a Nephilim among us. He could shapeshift into anyone I meet. Must be careful." The revelation hit Kurtis like a thunderbolt, leaving him in stunned silence.
"Wait, what?" he uttered softly, his disbelief and shock palpable, like an electric current coursing through his veins. Without wasting a single precious moment, Kurtis swiftly stowed the file into his trusty backpack and mounted his motorcycle. The engine roared to life, its powerful vibrations echoing his urgency as he raced through the cityscape, every passing streetlight marking his relentless pursuit of answers.
"I need to formulate a plan before I set foot in Rennes. I'll have to tread carefully, choose my allies wisely," Kurtis reflected, the gravity of his mission now fully bearing down on him as the night embraced his unwavering determination, shrouding him in its mysterious veil.
Church Building
Paris
17 November 2003
11:25
Lara Croft
Lara embarked on the ascent of the worn stone steps, her boots echoing in a haunting cadence as if joining the footsteps of countless pilgrims from centuries past. The ancient grooves etched into the stones bore witness to the passage of time and the weight of history. As she pushed open the massive wooden doors of the church, her senses were met with a scene that defied her expectations.
Gone were the echoes of sacred hymns that typically resonated within these hallowed walls. Instead, the cavernous interior had been transformed into an unexpected spectacle—a makeshift gym. The aura of sanctity had yielded to the musky scent of sweat, and the grandeur of the holy sanctuary was now adorned with exercise equipment strewn haphazardly across the vast hall. At the heart of this incongruous setting stood a boxing ring, a ring that dominated the center of the once-sacred space.
Lara's curiosity was irrepressible as she ventured deeper into the unusual tableau. Her eyes, sharp as ever, fell upon the figures within the ring. Two men engaged in a captivating display of athleticism and combat, their movements fluid and precise. The clash of fists and the thud of impact filled the air, creating a mesmerizing dance of strength and skill. It was as if they were locked in a world of their own, entirely oblivious to the world outside these sacred walls.
Drawn toward the captivating spectacle, Lara moved closer to the ring, her footsteps muted against the cold, worn stone beneath her boots. However, her path was abruptly blocked by a towering figure, a man whose muscular presence exuded an air of authority that left no doubt about his role.
"The trainer, I'm guessing," Lara thought, her gaze momentarily flickering to the gleaming golden watch that adorned his wrist. She couldn't resist a subtle compliment, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "Nice watch."
The trainer, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected comment, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What?"
Unperturbed, Lara continued, "I bet I can choose the best fighter for your fancy golden watch."
The man's skepticism wavered, his eyes narrowing as he considered her proposition. After a moment's contemplation, he relented with a reluctant nod. "You have two hundred euros?"
A confident smirk played on Lara's lips as she replied, "Yes?"
"You're on, lady," he agreed, albeit with a hint of reluctance in his voice.
As her gaze returned to the ongoing match, Lara couldn't help but inquire further, her curiosity piqued by the unfolding spectacle. "So, what are their names?"
"One with the headgear is Charl. One with the tattoos is Zak," the trainer revealed.
Lara's eyes, ever perceptive, lingered on the inked fighter named Zak. There was something about those tattoos, an inexplicable familiarity that tugged at the recesses of her memory. With unwavering confidence, she declared, "My money's on Zak." Her attention was now fully riveted on the enigmatic fighter, her instincts whispering that there was more to this match than met the eye.
The trainer swiftly relayed the bet to the fighters, and as they resumed their heated bout, the atmosphere inside the makeshift gym crackled with anticipation. The tension was palpable, and Lara's playful jab couldn't go unnoticed amidst the flurry of punches and dodges. "Be glad I didn't throw in your golden chain too," she taunted the trainer with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Don't push your luck," he warned, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, his focus oscillating between the match and Lara's audacious wager.
Charl, determined to prove himself, launched a ferocious punch at Zak's right flank. But Zak's reflexes were nothing short of lightning-quick. With a graceful swiftness, he deftly evaded Charl's attack, almost as if he could predict its every move. In a blur of motion, Zak retaliated with a devastating blow, striking Charl square in the face. The force of the punch sent Charl stumbling backward, his balance utterly shattered. Frustration etched across his features, he attempted another punch, but it too met with failure, leaving Charl sprawled unceremoniously on the canvas.
With a triumphant grin, Lara turned her attention back to the trainer, her victory apparent.
"Here, take it," he conceded graciously, handing over the coveted golden watch.
As Zak exited the ring, his curiosity got the better of him, and he approached Lara with a quizzical glint in his eyes. "Hey, why did you bet on me?" he inquired, his voice a curious blend of amusement and intrigue.
"You look like a guy who has the information I need," Lara replied, her tone carrying an air of calculated determination, suggesting that she didn't make such bets without reason.
"Oh, really? What sort of information, miss?" Zak leaned in slightly, curiosity piqued.
"Do you know Bouchard?" Lara asked, her question hanging in the air like a challenge.
Zak's expression shifted, his demeanor growing more serious. "That's not a question you just ask anyone, miss. Bouchard isn't someone to mess with."
"Neither am I," Lara countered with unyielding confidence. "So, what do you know?"
Zak's gaze flicked briefly toward his trainer and sparring partner, a silent exchange of shared hesitation and resignation. "Today is not my day," he muttered with a reluctant sigh. "Look, this isn't a good place to talk about Bouchard."
"So, when can I talk to you?" Lara pressed, her determination unwavering.
"Meet me at Cafe Metro in three hours, and then we'll talk," Zak reluctantly agreed, a glimmer of caution still lingering in his eyes. "Please, just watch your back."
"Sure. See you then," Lara acknowledged, her curiosity now intertwined with a sense of urgency. She left the gym, the promise of answers to her questions propelling her forward, her mind already racing toward the enigmatic rendezvous at Cafe Metro.
Rennes Pawn Shop
Paris
17 November 2003
12:35
Kurtis Trent
Kurtis moved with a determined stride through the gritty streets of the ghetto, the worn concrete underfoot mirroring the toughness of the neighborhood itself. He had left his hotel behind half an hour ago, setting his course for Rennes, and all the while, he couldn't help but feel the heavy tension that seemed to linger in the very atmosphere around him. As he passed by Le Serpent Rouge, an establishment known for its shady dealings, a figure at the street corner caught his sharp eye. She was a young woman dressed in sleek black attire, accentuated by a striking red jacket. The cigarette in her hand sent delicate tendrils of smoke spiraling into the afternoon air.
Her voice, a beguiling blend of sultriness and allure, drifted towards him as he approached. "Hi, sweet thing, haven't seen you in these parts before," she purred, closing the distance between them with an air of mystery.
"Just looking for Rennes?" Kurtis responded, his words chosen with care, and his senses on high alert.
A soft sigh escaped her as she stopped a breath's distance away. "Rennes' pawnshop is over there," she informed, her finger directing his attention toward the indicated establishment.
Kurtis couldn't ignore the unease that flickered in her eyes, but before he could delve further into her cryptic message, a group of men entered the building, their leader unmistakably familiar.
Eckhardt. Here, in the heart of the underworld.
Acting swiftly, Kurtis grabbed the young woman, maneuvering her into a nearby alley. His strong hand covered her mouth to prevent any involuntary cries.
"Please don't scream. Trust me. Those men are trouble," he whispered urgently, his keen eyes scanning the alley's entrance for any signs of approaching danger.
She nodded in fearful agreement, her eyes wide as they both waited in tense silence for the footsteps of Eckhardt's men to grow fainter in the distance.
Once the coast was clear, Kurtis turned his attention back to the young woman, his voice measured and serious. "Look, I know you must have questions, but it's better if you don't know."
"Listen, I've worked in this place for years. I know who the trouble-makers are," she countered, her words carrying a mix of resignation and defiance.
Kurtis frowned, a hint of skepticism creasing his brow. "What do you know?"
"Why should I tell you?" she challenged, her gaze locked onto his.
"Because I'll pay you for the information," Kurtis stated, producing a handful of bills from his pocket.
She hesitated, her eyes flitting to the offered cash before reluctantly beginning to speak. "Alright, fine. The old bat who just entered Rennes? He's a regular around here. Been seeing Bouchard before the trouble started shutting this place down."
"What kind of trouble?"
"Some of his men went missing. It was gruesome. Made him nervous, and that's saying something."
"Rennes?"
"Rennes sells him more than just weapons. I have no idea what, though."
"And the old man?"
"Didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're getting at. But I did have a fling with that brawny guy, Gunderson, and overheard that the old man is looking for some kind of painting."
The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. Eckhardt's relentless pursuit of the Obscura paintings was beginning to take shape. "Anything else?"
"Only that the old man has a meeting tonight before they plan to break into the Louvre," she added, her voice a mix of resignation and anxiety. "That's all I know."
"More than enough for me, thanks," Kurtis replied, handing her the money as a token of appreciation.
With caution guiding their every step, Kurtis and the young woman emerged from the narrow alleyway into the dimly lit street. His eyes darted toward the building that housed Rennes' pawnshop, and his heart quickened as he saw Lara Croft entering its ominous depths.
A sinking feeling gripped him, his mind racing with the realization that she was walking right into a dangerous trap, completely unaware of the peril that lay in wait.
"Oh no," Kurtis muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper, "she's walking into a trap, and she has no idea."
He knew he had to act swiftly. As he began to close the distance between himself and the pawnshop, he suddenly froze, instincts honed to a razor's edge. Eckhardt and another man, Gunderson, emerged from the very same building. In a heartbeat, he ducked behind a nearby pillar, his ears straining to capture their hushed conversation.
"Master."
"Rennes has been dealt with. I left a boom for Miss Croft," Eckhardt chuckled ominously, his voice dripping with malevolence. "If she's as good as Werner said, she'll get out of there without a scratch."
"And the Lux knight?"
"We have captured him in Turkey," Eckhardt revealed, his words sending a chill down Kurtis's spine.
Kurtis leaned against the wall, his emotions a tumultuous mix of fear and determination as he absorbed the devastating news. He knew that the Lux knight they spoke of could only be William, his own brother.
"Brother, I'll be coming for you, I promise," Kurtis silently vowed, his fists clenched in silent resolve.
Closing his eyes briefly to gather his thoughts, Kurtis started to devise a new plan. He watched as Eckhardt and Gunderson moved away from the building, their ominous figures receding into the shadows. Determined to aid Lara Croft and prevent her from falling into the deadly trap that awaited her inside Rennes' pawnshop, he resolved to wait at the back entrance, ready to step in and lend his assistance when the time was right.
Rennes Pawnshop
Paris
17 November 2003
12:40
Lara Croft
Lara stood resolute before Rennes' pawnshop, her hopes hinging on the possibility that this enigmatic figure might have answers to her pressing questions.
"I hope he can help with what I need," she muttered, her gaze focused on the shop's entrance.
Stepping inside, she encountered an elderly man departing from the shop, his lack of courtesy evident in the way he bumped into her shoulder, his demeanor brusque and inconsiderate.
"Rude much," Lara muttered under her breath, unfazed by the minor disturbance.
With her passport clutched tightly in hand, she proceeded through the doors into the dimly lit interior. However, her anticipation quickly gave way to bewilderment as her eyes fell upon the counter, which lay in ruins.
"What happened here?" she wondered aloud, her concern deepening as she ventured further into the establishment.
Making her way into the back room, Lara was met with a grim and grisly sight. Rennes, the pawnshop owner, lay lifeless on the floor, his blood forming a grotesque symbol etched in crimson on the ground. It was the very same symbol she had seen in Werner's apartment, a sinister omen that seemed to haunt her every step.
Determined to uncover any potential clues, Lara carefully searched Rennes' lifeless form and discovered his wallet. As she opened it, a small piece of paper slipped free, bearing a cryptic code. Casting a glance at the vault, she decided to take a leap of faith and input the code into the keypad. To her astonishment, the vault door obediently creaked open.
"Well, that worked," Lara remarked, her curiosity piqued as she stepped inside the concealed chamber.
Within the vault, her eyes fell upon an array of items meticulously prepared for Werner's benefit. A map of an archaeological dig, detailed plans of the Louvre's sewer system, two firearms, a Dart Ssand K2 Impactor, and ample ammunition lay neatly organized before her. A satisfied smile played on Lara's lips as she began to gather the invaluable supplies and place them into a backpack she had found nearby.
"This is everything I need," she mused, the weight of her impending mission growing heavier.
But just as she reached for the final item, an ominous click reverberated through the room, and the vault door slammed shut behind her, leaving Lara trapped within its metallic embrace. Panic momentarily gripped her, but she swiftly composed herself, her sharp instincts leading her to search for a way out.
"I don't have time for this," she muttered, her fingers deftly prying open a concealed panel to reveal a switch. With resolute determination, she pressed the switch, and the door creaked open, freeing her from the suffocating confines of the vault.
However, as she rushed out, her eyes caught a glimpse of a sinister surprise lurking behind a nearby shelf—a bomb.
"One minute," Lara calculated, her heart racing as she sprinted toward the nearby trapdoor, her instincts and agility serving as her only allies.
Bounding down the tunnel, the deafening roar of explosions reverberated behind her, and the tunnel's walls seemed to come alive with searing flames. The fire licked at her back as she propelled herself toward the beckoning light at the tunnel's end. With a final desperate roll over the concrete, she extinguished the flames that had clung to her jacket.
Lara lay on her back, gasping for breath, her eyes fixed on the sky above.
"That was too close," she murmured, a shiver of relief coursing through her.
Her moment of respite was short-lived, however, as she caught a rustling sound over the canal. Turning her gaze, she spotted the enigmatic stranger once more, crouched on his knees, smoking a cigarette. He rose to his feet, casually discarding the cigarette, and walked away with a smirk dancing upon his lips.
The mystery surrounding this stranger deepened, and Lara couldn't help but wonder if their paths were destined to intersect once more in the labyrinthine world she found herself navigating.
