Purists will please forgive me the introduction of a fan favorite character through my o.c.
YAMATAI - THREE DAYS LATER
'Let the little slumming rich bitch come; come, and fucking die.' he thought to himself after he threw the cell phone into the ocean. He had meditated for almost an entire day and a half - having fasted since he arrived - and was focusing his mind on the Croft brat since the last communication from the last of the three to witness dear, dead old Charles's death. The arrogant twit was apparently in the middle of describing how asinine he had been for suggesting that a woman could kill a great many men... he laughed. This was almost too much to imagine as a career topping accomplishment... personally ending a very annoying family legacy... all by his lonesome - well, almost.
The gift of necromancy was an endowment from the old ones; given as a last-ditch tool to those brave and determined enough to use it - men like himself. There were a few vital things needed, beyond knowledge of the arcane scripts, which is chief among them. The scripts gave one the proper chants, tells one where the scars to oneself are to be inflicted, and what rare sacrificial tools to make them. Besides these, however, mostly what was needed, was will. One only had to be willing to give up ones own senses - to offer them to the dead corpse that had none. All he needed, besides to put his own physical body at risk while the corpse was animated by his spiritual essence, was to get a personal item of the deceased, and ready himself, his body, his connection to the corpse, and wait, in near death slumber for the intended victim to arrive.
He had gathered several personal belongings from the corpses he had chosen to 'invest' his talent in - thirty-five in all. He pulled off his shirt and began carving the runic symbols into his flesh as he 'felt' her approaching. By the time he 'knew' she was on the island, he was already near death - just not near enough to save her... poor pretty bitch; the only answer she was getting was about life after death, if he didn't ensnare her soul first.
"Home sweet hell", Lara muttered as she and Evan hooked their twenty-five foot cabin cruiser to the massive rock just below the front of the bow of the wreck of the Spanish galleon she had traversed to recover a pulley set-up to lift the engine of the PT boat they had used to escape the island just a week and a half ago; back then, she was anxious to get off the island and get her head right before going back; hopefully with a few more people from the international archeological community to truly properly catalogue things - but the uninvited late night visitors she had at her hotel suite, had changed everything.
It had been one hell of a night for firsts: First time hooked with a guy in a bar; first time she went to bed with a guy in less than five hours from meeting him; and the first time she blew up a hotel hallway with fire extinguishers... Evan was a fun date - a real keeper. She had only done any of it by trusting her instincts... and it had saved her life, and helped her meet a funny, successful, good-looking... professional killer.
"Like attracts like," he had mused as she sat staring at him the next evening before she grabbed him by his slacks, threw him on the couch in his opulent 'safe house', and made love to him again; this after they had worked their way through the 'stores', and boutiques of the Japanese underworld to get properly kited for this holiday in hell.
It had all just been so romantic, dangerous... erotic. She never felt so alive just walking the streets in any city before; and the guy was just so confident, stylish, suave, and to top it all off... just so unbelievably, fucking hot. She was starting to really like this guy, and his life - What was it about dangerous boys?
Evan had picked up new 'functional 'clothing for her to wear so that she didn't have to go into the more 'stranger hating' shop and stand before in-store surveillance cameras; it was just what she imagined he would buy, and yet it WAS highly functional, and comfortable... if somewhat flattering to her enticing curves - curves he was already well acquainted with, and had been wonderfully nice to - twice, already, in just the last three days. A good start indeed, both times initiated by her - smart guy.
So, here she was, now dressed in lycra shorts and a matching, low-neck tank top with a Kevlar weaved inner-wrap about her narrow waist; and was climbing free style up the side of the old wreck. She was thoroughly amazed by how much better these seemingly strip club inspired shorts, which barely came down to her upper thigh, were at letting her move unrestricted, than her torn jeans had been when last she climbed the wind and sea weathered wood. She was smiling as she recalled Evan's face when she first stepped out dressed in them; her skin-tight outfit topped by her accessories he had purchased for her from his 'friends'. Friends he said he would make hers: just not as good as they were becoming.
He was still so wonderfully distracting, if a little too well-connected with the underworld than she would expect of her first male lover in three years; but strangely this menacing fact only enhanced his allure, and her instincts backed her resolve to move ever closer to him; even as he seemed determined to pull her further and further into her own dark side, into that part of her she had thought he could help her escape. At least he was making it as easy as possible with the latest weapons, and somewhat enjoyable by being here with her.
She had two forty calibre Glock 23's in holsters strapped to her thighs, and a spare fifty calibre Desert Eagle magnum in a mid-back strap holster. She was half way up the hull when Evan whistled. She grinned. "Getting anxious waiting your turn.. don't like to climb?... 'James'?"
"Just enjoying the natural beauty of the man, slash Sun Queen made reefs, and your rather compelling form... of climbing that is - very impressive."
"Glad you like it," she said softly, "makes sleeping with you that much more enjoyable knowing you appreciate my bum."
He smirked, "You're a goddess 'L'. I can honestly say, I could envision literally millions of people, both men and women, just staring at your bum for hours on end as you climb, jump, run, kill, stand impatiently waiting for something to do..."
She stared down at him, and broke out laughing, "Stop making me laugh damn it, I'm likely to fall."
"Not likely. THE Lara Croft never falls, without getting back up... or something far more inspirational than that. Where is my booze?"
Lara finally reached the top, climbed up on the deck, and began rigging a pulley for the rope. Several minutes later; and satisfied it was functional, she looked over the edge, down at Evan, who was busy changing into a lycra suit of his own; before throwing on loose khaki shorts and a loose-fitting dress shirt.
"SO, why dont you tell me why I'm dressed like a Pilates instructor? " she chided, " while you get the stylish, comfortable clothes to cover your tight little suit - and all I got was applause when I stepped out of the bathroom... what a guy."
" The reason has to do with our quarry, I'll explain later, if it doesn't become obvious to you; and what do you mean all you got was applause? " he joked, "I wolf whistled to, AND smacked your bum... big difference. I made you feel properly objectified... tell me I never gave you anything - cruel woman. You have to make it up to me."
She rolled her eyes, and laughed, "Kiss what woman this time?"
"What about this lovely miss Nishimora?"
"I wish," she muttered.
"Quit feeding my lurid fanta..." he began to say.
"If Sam was here," Lara interjected, "she may offer to fulfil it if just to get a turn at you."
He smiled as he tied the supply bag on to the rope and began pulling it up to Lara. "'Stop' I said. I'm trying to focus on the task at hand, and you're distracting me with visions of a torrid threesome, and hot, mad lipstick lesbian love-making... you are so very,very cruel, and torturous, and mean. AH!... you have to..."
"Enough!," she laughed, "I'm not inviting Amanda... I'm still pissed at her."
"Spoil sport. I say, let bygones be bygones, bury the hatchet,... "
"Kiss, and make up?" she concluded for him, and pulled the sack on to the deck before tossing the untied portion of the still pulley rigged rope down again.
"For starters," he muttered and tied the rope to his belt and, using his arms to pull the rope, 'walked' up the hull.
She helped him up, and let him 'accidentally 'fall into her, his hands on her hips, her's on his shoulders,''Remember my goal for the 'Steel Finger' expedition?"
"Yeah?" He asked nervously, "I can do better, I swear your gorgeous evilness, REALLY I can."
She kissed his mouth closed, and smiled as he pulled her close, and caressed her back; then once more clutched his buttocks.
"Hey, I said I would..." he stammered.
"You did it 'James'," she sighed as she pecked at his lips, "mission accomplished."
"But you were so... quiet?"
She nodded, "VERY observant, you are full of surprises."
She knelt to open the bag full of supplies and weapons, and store the rope, giving him quite the view of her impressive cleavage.
"Bear my children." He sighed softly in pretentious wonder.
She looked up at him, a look of mild amusement in her lovely brown eyes, then looked down at her own breasts, "I'm armed," she muttered, and laughed.
"Quite impressively to," he mused, still, intentionally staring at her ample bosom.
She shook her head as she continued to laugh, "Stop staring at my breasts!" she finally shouted as she blushed.
"I'm not!," he insisted, "THEY keep staring at me! It's never wise to break eye contact with such predators. Those two are man eaters... I can tell."
She kissed him quickly, and moved to get a better view of the beach, using the sniper spotter glasses.
The place was seemingly untouched since they left almost a week before.
No change in the location of their camp, no burial of the bodies... nothing. Whoever he was they were looking for was not very busy at covering up anything.
Was he still alive?
Lara shook her head in bewilderment and turned to see how far along in getting kited Evan had got... she should have guessed.
He was staring at her buttocks, his hands held up as if to frame a shot for a movie.
"Taking a picture," she said softly, and shook her butt provocatively, "So It'll last longer?"
"A thing, er 'things' of beauty are a joy forever."
"I'm armed," she reminded him, her right eyebrow raised.
"Oh, so am I," he moaned as he looked her over unashamed, "Not as well kited as you, but... just the same; I'm packing."
"It's like doing recon with Ron Burgundy." she muttered happily, and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Hey, what happened to Bond?"
"Just get the equipment," she sighed, and elbowed him.
He smirked licentious, and made to speak.
She gasped, turned her eyes to him, catching his thought before he spoke it, and giggled softly.
"What?" he asked.
She smiled and said, "Please... don't say it."
"WHAT?"
"Oh, right, you want me to... FINE, 'I've got the 'equipment' already." she said, imitating him, "Happy?"
He smiled wider, "Isn't it obvi..."
"Oh good lord...," she gasped and slapped him playfully, "we are hardly in the right place for that sort of... sport. We don't even know where this guy is, or if he spotted us, or if he's still on the island..."
A sudden glint of sunlight off something metal moving on the deck of the bow of the Endurance caught Evan's eye as he loked over Lara's shoulder. "Hello," he muttered, and pointed to the all to familiar wreck, "Look... there."
"I don't see,..." she whispered, as she looked through the spotters glasses; then looked to the water, there was something moving in the water beside the ship, headed toward the beach. "what the hell... no air bubbles."
"Well, let's get to it, and see 'what the hell' it is. I'll carry the pack, you get on the beach via those zip lines you were telling me about. I'll take the more scenic route... the wrecks."
"See you there," she said as she kissed him and grabbed hold of a leather wrist strap and hooked it over the zip-line, and was gone.
Evan reached into the sack and pulled out three seemingly innocuous parts of a pistol, locked them together, and finally attached a spool of thick high tension rope attached to a thick metal arrow-head, and grinned as he loaded the spool on to the top of the pistol and fed the rope through. "Sooner than you know girl. Zip, you bastard, for fifty grand, this had better get me laid." and with that, he fired the dart, rope attached at the top of a distant tower at the far end of the beach, near the destroyed dock. It worked.
The tip buried itself into the top of the tower and the rope pulled taught as he held the gun. "Now, hold down the trigger and hold OOONNNNN...!" He was pulled right off the deck, and right at the tip of the bolt at top speed as the spool of rope rolled back up.
"SHITTTTT!" he screamed as he approached the tower. "This'll leave a mark." he muttered at the last second and reflexively loosened his grip on the trigger, rolling the spool out, and depositing him somewhere half way up the ladder leading to the arrow-tip.
Lara, having heard him scream, turned, guns raised, as she reached the beach.
He smiled weakly as he climbed for the bolt, and wrenched it free.
She peered at him through the spotters glasses.
He gave a thumbs up as he freed the end of the rope .
"Nutter," she sighed, "what the hell is that contraption."
Just then, a great crashing sound was heard as something very large finally made land, and threw a hunk of a planes fuselage aside, and moved toward the young woman.
Lara turned and looked at the approaching figure, and almost dropped her gun, "impossible..." she muttered, "Your dead." and as she looked into the milky, sightless, dead eyes, she heard the words in her mind as if this one spoke them to her again...
"Come here... little mouse."