FAIR WARNING - VIOLENCE
She was relaxed, expectant, and more than a little drunk; still, he was cute, funny, and originally from within driving distance of where she lived in London, or Surrey. Potential for maybe a decent long-term thing with someone she liked, for once; OR potential for a major disaster like with Amanda. She was just happy no one would die either way.
She heard the toilet flush after what must have been five or so minutes, then the sink, then the sound of a man psyching himself up by giving himself a pep talk... she was certain he was mostly doing this to entertain her; THAT, or scare her into changing her mind as he seemed so intent on doing. She was having none of it; she had made the decision to do this and that was final!
She had no idea what he did for a living, nor did she have a clue about what he was doing in Japan; but something inside her had said STAY when he entered the hotel bar, and she was glad it did; that, and that she had become so conditioned to follow her gentle inner gut feelings as well as her shrieking instinct to survive as a result of the hell of Yamatai. He was great, period, and now... was showering.
She laughed quietly to herself, climbed from the bed, and with only a moment's hesitation, looked herself in the mirror. Lovely, giddy, nonlethal Lara Croft looked back, smiling happily, a mischievous gleam in her eyes - not a cold staring warrior woman, looking for her next fresh kill. She almost danced in place as she turned to the bathroom door, and pressed her ear to it; He was singing: 'Skyfall' - badly.
His shrieking falsetto almost managed to hit the right notes during the chorus, but when he mumbled his way through the verses, he kept losing the rhythm and would suddenly burst out with the shrill words "SKYFALL, when we rumble," or fumble, mumble, get humble, etc; till finally, "ah sod it." She burst out laughing.
"Caught ya!,ya voyeur." he called out.
She knocked on the door, "Excuse me, but, Whose strangling the cat?"
"Strangling the ca...?" he began, then sighed in exasperation, "You are clearly, hopelessly obsessed girl... GOLDENEYE!" he shouted out the title as if in answer to a pop quiz, "God help me, we're not doing Bond movie quotes as foreplay are we?"
"Well," she said in mock indignation, "We're doing little else."
"Why don't you come in here and we can compare scars and injuries? I have a lovely shotgun pellet scatter on my ass; it looks like the constellation Orion... well somewhat... when you're pissed and have no idea what the real one looks at all like."
She smiled and slid off her knickers, kicking them to the corner of the room, then putting on her best Bond goddess swagger, stepped into the steam filled bathroom.
The place was high-class, and the bathroom reflected it beautifully: with polished steel, and gold accents and granite flooring. The Shower was no different, and she smiled a self-satisfied grin as she took in the sight before her: the bastard was gorgeous, his lean, thickly muscled body sculpted as if by De Vinci himself trying to produce an idealize image of Achilles, with one major difference, Evan was almost perfectly proportionately covered in rugged, brutal scars everywhere BUT his ankles; he was so very her type - of man: a proper man, complete with numerous bullet, knife and assorted other wounds on display... nowhere useful to her, thank God;
She smiled at him, "Hello Mr. Bond," she said playfully, as he rolled his eyes,"I see you brought a slightly larger calibre pistol with you this time. THAT is no Walter PPK... Short."
"OK, I'll play," He sighed and took her hand and pulled her under the spray. "What is your name my dear seemingly harmless, and naïve gorgeous beyond reason goddess strangely instantly enamoured with me? A fact I am not at all surprised at, or suspicious of in the least; and am completely confident I am no danger from... again."
She laughed, "I am 'THE COUNTESS' Lara Croft;" she sighed her voice heavy with breathless pretence, "but you can call me... mmm,"
"Miss Wanda Laya?" Evan inserted as he brushed her hair from her eyes.
She almost burst out laughing, but regained, and ran her hands over his back till she reached his firm, round buttocks, "Mmm, I was thinking more along the lines of... 'Steel Fingers'," and grabbed his butt cheeks - hard.
He moaned in mild pain as she smiled and held him closer, "Good name, real good... ow." he gasped.
"Free style rock climbing. Now," she said softly, "I need a competent, intelligent, sensitive, creative, courageous man to help me find the most elusive of all the myths of human history: The one very, very, very, VERY few MEN - and sadly women - have ever even come close to experiencing the glory of without very strong drugs and very specific ancient texts; I speak of the holy grail of MAN'S achievement - the natural, intercourse induced, female orgasm. Are you game?"
"Kill me now," he sayed bluntly, then recanted "Ah hell, as a famous explorer once said:"The extraordinary is in what we do, not who we are.""
"Who came up with that?" she asked, impressed.
"Someone nobody remembers; clearly didn't follow-up. NO, I got it: Alexander 'Famous' Explorer... just before a week-long Vegas holiday..."
"ANYWAY! In other words?" she said, a mildly irritated tone entering her voice.
"I'm game," he whispered as he kissed her, "I'm glad I let you talk me into this Lara. In all honesty I genuinely wasn't 'on the pull'."
She smiled, "Me neither... than I saw you... you all natty in your silk and high-end suit countered beautifully by your unapologetic brazen alcoholism, and tactless fumbling of the game ball in our little one on one."
He smiled, "Flattery, my one weakness."
She smiled back, "You don't understand; I loved that you played no games... you just brought your amazing, wonderful, funny self; and of course, THIS happy fellow... hello there darling. Please tell me you didn't name this new friend of mine, that is the womans job. - IF you earn it."
He gasped as she gently took hold of his manhood in her palm, then glided her fingers lightly over its length.
"Your friend likes me," she moaned into his ear as she sucked on his neck, "a lot."
"I can't help being attracted to someone who looks like you," he whispered breathlessly, "It's a result of something I contracted from my mum as a babe," he moaned.
"Oh?" she sighed as her other hand joined the first, "what?" she sighed as she teased his open mouth with the tip of her tongue as he gasped for breath.
"Sight," he moaned as she gently gripped his shaft with her right hand, and slowly massaged it as the fingers of her left softly stroked his testicles.
She giggled into his broad chest, and kissed a long, thin scar, "why don't we find a proper place to holster this impressive weapon?"
"Just be gentle with me... Steel Fingers."
They smiled and kissed one another as the steam filled the rest of the suite through the open bathroom door.
HOTEL SECURITY - FOUR HOURS LATER
The night watch was only manned by three armed men: front desk/entry; backdoor/receiving; and central security/manager's office. They all were well-educated, competent, and bored. They were all very used to large groups coming in late to, so they were all completely taken by surprise: quickly, quietly; and replaced just as swiftly. They did the same to the hotel staff, just as neatly. Than HE entered, 'Old Softy', and the rest went about taking down the alarm and security measures of the five-star hotel.
The recently dead security guard's uniform was almost a perfect fit, not that it mattered as he nodded to one of the eight other operatives who had killed and replaced the hotel night staff in less than three minutes. He was at a slight advantage as he was British born, educated, and raised, yet was also a dual citizen of Japan through his father. He had earned the moniker 'Old Softy' in spite of his twenty-two year sojourn in this life, as a result of his smooth handling of all hits involving women, regardless of nationality. It wasn't that he was a great Lothario, it was that he appeared harmless, easily manipulated, and was able to get close enough to kill with almost soothing chemistry.
He rarely ever used force, knives, guns, even his fists (though proficient with all) therefore, no signs of struggle, or attack, no investigations - a dependable soft touch.
He walked the hallway to the suite the Croft girl's uncle had arranged for her once she reached Okinawa, listened at the door, heard nothing, and opened it silently with the universal pass-key, and snuck in. Blackness, sans the dimmed lights coming from under the drapes met his eyes. Perfect. He moved into the main bedroom.
The sound of a distant, muffled radio playing highlights of some sporting event could be heard - kids in the street, some guy on his balcony... no bother. He saw her laying on her side, her face a mask of almost serene bliss as she sighed the remaining moments of her brief life away - fitting - he liked to send the pretty ones off gently. He pulled out the prepped syringe from his special inner pocket , and positioned it over the scar on her arm as he pulled out his chloroform mask.
"MANCHESTER UNITED HAS TAKEN IT ONCE MORE! YES, YOU HEARD RIGHT! MANCHESTER UNITED HAS WON IT'S EIGHTH STRAIGHT GAME OF THE SEASON!" The words suddenly roared in his ears as his earpiece was replaced effortlessly by a pair of ear buds that were brutally jammed deep inside his eardrums. He dropped the syringe, and reflexively spun to attempt to hit the man behind him; his head ringing badly, rendering momentarily deaf, and dizzy.
Evan blocked with his right forearm , and made to counter with a left cross to the smaller man's chin - missing.
Old Softy made up in speed what he lacked in strength and ducked below the Brit's arm as he swung; delivering a punch to Evan's ribs, and a quick elbow to the side of his head, knocking him over to the desk.
Evan shook his head.
The quick killer advanced on him, picking up his chloroform mask from the ground.
Evan made to call out, but was silenced by the mask.
Old Softy grinned as he watched Evan's eyes start to close. Confident he had him, the assassin pulled out a silenced Glock 9 millimeter and pressed it to Evan's chin.
Evan suddenly grinned, "Saftys on, you tosser, and you didn't..." he whispered as Old Softy looked briefly away from his target; and, grinning, Evan drove his knee into the would be killer's crotch, whipped both hands from behind himself up, knocking the gun across the room, "...soak the rag, you ponce."
Lara still rested soundly as the two men grappled toward the open terrace balcony. Evan brought his right fist up hard under the killer's chin, knocking him back toward the railing.
The killer staggered back, but at as Evan came up to follow with his left to knock him over, Old Softy spun at the hips and shoved the Brit head first into the steel railings. The killer reached into his back pocket and produced a thin piano wire. He straddled Evan's waist as the Adonis seemed to be too stunned to counter. "Good bye pretty boy," Old Softy mocked as he made to garrote him.
Evan suddenly tucked his chin to his chest, pushed up from his hips, bucking the killer forward, once more, toward the railing. As Evan tucked his knees into his chest and prepared to spring at the killer, Old Softy turned and produced a second gun, a Smith and Wesson 38 snub nose revolver, and leveled it at the crouching Brit.
Suddenly seven red blossoms exploded across the assassin's face, neck and head in rapid succession, blowing his face apart, and sending him, lifeless, back over the railing to crash onto a black van in the delivery area of the hotel - twenty-three stories down. Not one alarm sounded as the windshield exploded out.
Evan, recovering instantly from the shock, turned to the room, and saw Lara, still in bed, holding the silenced Glock in her outstretched right hand. He smiled wickedly, "Good grouping. You may well be the woman of my dreams. Let me guess, he was the guy from the Kilimanjaro hike? Any more homicidal ex-lovers I need to be made aware of? How about this Amanda? does she hear voices? Severe daddy issues?"
Lara looked at him bewildered, "Evan, did he come here to kill you?"
"No, not me," he said as he dressed quickly, and picked up the fallen Smith and Wesson, "...surprisingly you. Care to share? Or do you want to hog all the good killing to yourself?"
She just stared at him in disbelief.
He suddenly grew quiet, as a look of dawning clarity came into his eyes "You aren't a 'wet worker' are you? A government sanctioned contract... killer." he asked gently.
"A what?"
He gathered the rest of his clothes, and hers and threw them onto the bed, "Please Lara, I'll explain later; however, now, someone wants you dead, badly; and as you clearly have no idea it was even remotely conceivable; THAT means you stumbled onto something you had no idea was someone elses favorite piss pot, and maybe knocked it over. Whoever these clearly misinformed twits are, THEY think you know it's theirs, or someone they believe you may talk to will, and they don't want that. So, tell me about what happened on this expedition; but be quick I have a feeling he has friends - lots, an VERY near by."