This is a work of fiction (blah-blah-blah) it is not real, do not try this at home kids. Lara Croftª and Tomb Raiderª are the property of EDIOS and CORE. Guys, I'm using the names, but I ain't makin' squat offa' it - so there! However, Max Reynolds originated in the twisted confines of my little noggin, so I guess he's © 1999 Mike Riegel.

If you read this, I would sure appreciate any feedback you can offer. My E-mail is RMIKE223@AOL.com.

WARNING - This story is pretty much PG-13 the whole way through. There is some (mildly) strong language, nudity (woo-hoo!) and a whole crap-load of violence. If you have even been offended by anything in your life, you'd better play it safe and not read this thing. Or, better yet, why not try to show a little responsibility for your actions so that I don't have to ever write another disclaimer again... Sorry about that, I can get a little carried away at times. Anyway...

On to the show... ZOOM RAIDER

Prologue

A deserted jungle road sat under a moonless summer night - not the seasons mattered much this close to the equator. Heavy rains eroded more and more of the asphalt, threatening to take the entire road away with them. However, the pavement was not going away on that particular evening, and held fast to its home. As this silent battle raged, so did another - one that was not-so-silent and getting closer by the moment. The sound of a turbo diesel truck engine being pushed into the red could be heard long before it rounded the corner, headlights and auxiliaries playing all about the area. The ten-wheeled behemoth, its dark-green coloring betraying its military origins, was followed momentarily by two HUMVEEs. These vehicles were not the leather-appointed status symbols of the overtly wealthy; they were nuts-and-bolts transports that meant business. Where a moonroof might have been in the civilian version of these trucks was a hatch and a light machine gun - which were manned and trained in the direction the small caravan had just come from. The trio of vehicles passed through the area and disappeared around the next curve in the road. Peace began to settle back into the area as the rain and the road once-again took up their timeless battle - a battle the road was destined to lose. As soon as the solitude had settled back into the scene, it was suddenly shattered again. Once more, there was the sound of an over-revved engine, but this one was not as loud and there was an accompanying, rapid thump-thump-thump that grew faster and more rapid until more light was thrown into the area. This time, the light came from a smaller source - a single headlight of a third HUMVEE. This last truck was not nearly in the condition of its earlier siblings. Much of the passenger-side area was riddled with bullets, and a large area of the roof was missing. The distinctive noise that preceded the vehicle was caused by the remnants of the front tire being tossed in circles by the wheel that refused to let go... As the last vehicle passed, a small section of plants and dirt retreated from the road and into the jungle. Under the camouflage crawled a man in possession of, among other things, a night-vision scope and a powerful transmitter... ...The attack was on...

Chapter One

The noise from the flat tire was threatening to drive Lara Croft insane. Had she the time, she would have changed it thirty minutes ago when her current chase began, but Elder already has a serious head start and there was no time pull over. A gentle curve became a little less gentle as Lara fought to control the three-wheeled beast. She slammed the meat of her palm into the bare metal of the steering wheel, as if it would fix her shredded tire. The wheel bowed slightly and then snapped back. Lara was just about to give the thing another good whack when something caught her eye. A racing flicker of light, followed by a larger one. Lara shielded her eyes against the flash. Before the sound of the explosion reached her she had already figured out what the fireworks were - a rocket launcher. Some of her recent encounters had taught her all about those little toys. She continued towards the site of the explosion, hoping that there was someone else that wanted Elder out of commission and that the "Enemy of my Enemy" cliche was applicable. In less than a minute she was there. She braked back the HUMVEE and looked over the area. Indeed, it was a little ambush that Elder had stumbled into, but things did not appear to be going as planned. The truck, while burning, was empty of the platoon of Government (whichever one was in power this week) forces. They had taken up position behind the two HUMVEEs and were firing at an unknown number of combatants in the jungle. The tracers from the vehicle-mounted M-60's providing light and giving away the position of Lara's maybe-allies. Lara formed a quick plan then tightened her seat-belt and mashed the throttle on the truck. She was almost upon the other trucks before she was spotted and a machine gun was swiveled in her direction - too late. The vehicles struck each other with enough force to lift the front of Lara's ride up into the air, only to come down with an even greater impact that made Lara acutely aware of each one of her vertebra. There were a few moments of blessed quiet, and then the shooting began all over again. A quick look out of the cracked windscreen told Lara that she had changed the tide of battle. One of the ambushers was now manning the other truck's machine gun, and using it on the remaining Government troops. Lara allowed herself a small smile, and then set about unbuckling herself. Her body groaned, but complied and she was soon outside, trademark Browning automatics drawn. Between the rain and smoke, visibility was at a minimum. With the uncertainties of the situation, Lara vowed to be weary of everyone. Almost immediately, Lara came face-to-face with two of the ambushers. They were clad in tiger-stripe camouflage - not the solid olive of the Government forces. There was a brief moment, her pistols facing their AK-47's. Upon realizing that Lara was the one who smashed their adversaries' vehicle, they lowered their weapons with a respectful nod of thanks and proceeded in the direction of the remaining Government forces, who were taking cover near the burning truck. Lara was happy to have some help on her side for a change, and let the two men lead the way into the fight. It was a good thing she did, a moment later a short burst of gunfire was heard, and Lara could see large caliber rounds tearing the two men apart. So much for allies... Lara dove for a ditch in the opposite side of the road as another burst was heard, slamming into the area she had occupied a moment before. As the shots were being fired, Lara racked her brain, trying to figure out what type of weapon was being used on her. Whatever it was, the powerful rounds and good accuracy meant that this person was not to be trifled with. As Lara took cover in the mud, trying to locate the shooter, something started to emerge from the truck's smoke. Upon first glance, it appeared to be some sort of super-soldier, covered in layers of armor and armed to the teeth. It was carrying some sort of large weapon in its right hand, a weapon that looked to be wired into cranial implants. Such thoughts would have been dismissed by anyone else - but Lara's experiences told her that such things were possible, she just hoped that this cyber-combatant had no grudge against her. But if it did, she would deal with it as she had dealt with so many others... Then it saw her, and went down on one knee, leveling the large weapon at her. Lara was already pulling the trigger when a secondary explosion from the truck's remaining fuel bathed the area in light and she had the chance to view the person who had her dead in his sights. It was a camera, more specifically a camcorder that was held in shoulder-mounted frame that gave it a very weapon-like appearance. This man was shooting Lara, but not in the traditional manner. Lara pulled her pistol back to ready, silently cursing this man and herself for the horrible situation that she was almost forced to face. She turned away from the man, returning her thoughts to her high-caliber assailant, when camera-man made a move that caught her eye. His empty left hand came up from his thigh bearing a pistol of his own. Reacting on instinct, Lara was on her feet in an instant and vaulted into the air drawing a bead on the man in mid-flip, but she was too late. In the painfully slow moments it took Lara to bring her guns to bear, a flash and a single report came from the lone figure. Lara readied herself for the punch of the impact, but it never came. Camera man had missed. Not one to give second chances to kill her, Lara discharged both of her weapons in mid-air, striking him in the chest with both and sending him sprawling. They both hit the ground at the same time, followed by the sound of another body collapsing. Lara turned to see one of the Government troops clutching his sternum and squealing in Spanish. Next to him was the .30 caliber WWII vintage BAR that he had dropped. This was the mystery weapon that had been shooting at Lara, and had killed the rebel troops. It looked as though the BAR man was trying to outflank Lara, before he had been put down, courtesy of the man with the camera. The man whom Lara had just shot - twice. Chapter Two

Another burst of gunfire made Lara dive back into the ditch. After landing, she began to crawl towards the man whom she had shot. A flood of emotions fought their way to the surface, but were stopped short. Lara was well aware of the risks that went along with the chances she took. She often ran the risk of getting killed or killing others, and if she had any sort of problem with those possibilities, then she could very well have stayed home. This cameraman had to have known the risks as well; or else he would be in a nice, safe studio taping an infomercial. Friendly fire is a risk that is present in all combat situations, and if this video person was not aware of that, then he was not going to survive anyway. There were those in Lara's life who thought her attitudes on the subject rather harsh, but then, they were staying at home, weren't they... Lara was almost to the man's prone form when another noise caught her attention. The remaining HUMVEE, directly behind the wreckage of the ten-wheeler, started it's engine, and starter to crawl around the burning truck. The rebel that was manning the M60 in the other truck turned the weapon to bear on the fleeing vehicle - just as something flew through the air and landed next to the gunner. He had only a moment to look down at the grenade before it went off, throwing pieces of his body into the air. As the flash of the explosion faded into secondary fires, Lara caught a glimpse of Elder's trademark blond hair through the back window. Lara's guns came to bear on the truck and she fired. The alternating muzzle flashes lit up her face and betrayed her emotions of the moment. Then her pistols locked back empty. Her thumbs hit the magazine ejector switches - her left weapon modified so that it could be used exclusively by that hand. By the time new magazines were inserted and rounds chambered, the HUMVEE was well out of range of her pistols. A moment's regret surfaced when she remembered the BAR and the added penetration it offered. Had she equipped it, then she might have been able to stop the fleeing truck. The HUMVEE was soon around the next bend and out of sight. Lara had no way to pursue the vehicle - the three that remained were would take a great deal of time to get operational - time that Lara did not have. The dwindling crackles of gunfire told Lara that this little skirmish was about over, and those government troops that did not flee in the HUMVEE were not in a good position. A semi-conscious moan from her left reminded Lara of the cameraman lying in the ditch. Moving over to him, she was somewhat relieved that he was alive - as dead men rarely moaned. Finally getting a close look at the man, Lara concluded in a moment that he was not a member of the rebel force that started the attack. His outfit was much different, a hodge-podge of different military and outdoors equipment. On his head rested a faded baseball cap that had seen more than its share of use. The man wore spectacles, but one of the lenses was blacked out and a wire led out of it and into his vest that may have once been a tactical ops garment... A bullet proof garment. Due to the rain and the dark coloring of the vest, Lara could not tell the man was bleeding. Often, these "bullet proof" items were used to stop shrapnel and to "reduce ballistic penetration." While there were certainly more powerful weapons than Lara's Brownings, they did have a decent amount of stopping power. Lara tentatively stuck her finger into one of the holes and a burning sensation immediately made her pull it back out. A trauma plate. As Lara was snatching her hand back, another one grabbed her - it was the cameraman's left. Lara, reacting on instinct, threw a left jab at the prone man, which served to loosen his grip on her digit and bring him to a higher state of consciousness. "...What the hell?" he mumbled, left hand rubbing his injured jaw. "Just relax, you're all right," Lara tried to comfort the man. While his vest stopped her bullets, he still could be suffering from internal bleeding or any number of other problems - best not to move him and risk making things worse. The problem was, the man did not want to be comforted. He began frantically working with the closures on his vest as he spoke. "You shot me," he accused, "I oughta' sue your ass!" "You'd best think twice before drawing down on someone without any warning." "And you hit me, too!" "I don't appreciate being grabbed." "Oh, get over yourself - It was reflex, not a cheap feel." With a sigh the man finally freed the trauma plate from his vest. The steep plate had two half-inch depressions from Lara's 9mm rounds. He offered the piece of metal to Lara. "Souvenir?" Lara waved it off, "Full up, I'm afraid." The man tossed it aside and began to root through the pockets of his vest. "So, there must've been something big time up at that mine for you to..." His voice trailed off as he removed his hand from one of the vest pockets. He held what once was a digital video tape, but now was more akin to spaghetti. "Do you have any idea what was on this?" "Not your niece's birthday, I take it." The man was about to reply, but was stopped as he took his hand from the other pocket. Lara's slug had torn an ugly hole in a cigarette case. As they looked on, tobacco and pieces of paper flowed from either side. The man opened the case, took the thing that most resembled a cigarette, and put it to his lips. Almost immediately, the rain and the damage reduced it to nothing but filter. "Goddammit, that's it," the man said as he tried to get up. "Tell you what. I'll buy you a whole carton of fags as soon as I am able, will that be all right?" The man just looked at her. "You don't smoke." "No." "It wasn't a question." With his last statement, the man rose to his feet, though a little shaky. Lara saw that there was nothing more that she could do for this rather rude little man. "Then I guess I'll be off..." "Where in the hell are you going?" "I seriously doubt that it's any of your business." "Okay, it's not. But if our government friends keep to form, then this area is going to be saturated by gunships in about ten minutes - I doubt that is enough time for even you to get one of those HUMMERs working." "I don't need them to get out of here." "Look, I know who and what you are, okay? I know that you could walk into this jungle and emerge in San Jose just fine in a week. I'm just offering to get you there tonight. My shoot's done, I'm heading home tomorrow." "...And in return?" "...And in return, you sign a waiver so that I can sell the footage of you in action - maybe make up for this." He held up the remains of the tape. "Who are you?" Lara asked. "Where are my manners, Max Reynolds." He offered his hand; Lara gave a little wave from where she stood. "Lara Croft." "Don't I know. So, we have a deal?" All things being equal, Lara would have never taken a ride from such a creature. But, she and Elder were in a race against time, a race that Lara was losing. Also, she felt a small degree of responsibility for the loss of Max's footage, though she guessed it was merely more shooting and explosions that would soon appear on CNN. Lastly, she was somewhat fascinated by Max. Lara was often fawned over and coveted by people, or they were trying to kill her; this Max character was very different, and part of her - a very, very small part of her - was a little curious. "Agreed. You deliver across the border and to San Jose intact, and I'll sign your little waiver." "Great, just hold on a minute." Max ran over to the group of rebels and spoke in Spanish with their leader for a few minutes. Soon, Max produced an envelope from his vest and handed it to the leader - a payoff. Lara passed the time by remembering her earlier regret and equipping the BAR from the, now deceased, Government soldier. The weapon was heavy and a too long for close-quarters usage, but from a distance its .30-06 rounds were deadly. Lara was also a little leery of Max. Her companions always had a funny way of ending up dead at the hands of her enemies, or had been enemies the whole time and ended up dead by Lara's hand. Lara hadn't survived this long by taking chances. Max had finished conversing with the rebels and joined her again. "They intercepted a transmission that government gunships are on the way with orders to toast the area. My car is about..." Max activated a display on his right forearm. "...Nine point six miles south-south-west of here." "We're driving?" "Yeah. The jungle may be crawling with troops, so we're gonna take it quick and quiet, okay?" Lara was not accustomed to taking orders, but before she knew what she was doing, her head nodded in agreement. "Great, that's my girl." Max never saw the look on Lara's face for his most recent comment, he just headed into the jungle with Lara following.

Chapter Three

Lara was amazed at the speed and grace with which Max moved. Even carrying a camera and probably forty more kilos of equipment, his pace was faster than Lara would have chosen for herself. His movements were graceful, but not that of a soldier. There was no question in Lara's mind that he had received some military training (though was never told to shout "look out") but Lara would guess that he had never been in the military. The hair was too long, the beard was not groomed with any discipline or order - and his "uniform" appeared to grow out of necessity, not some book of regulations. After a while, Max slowed to a cautious walk and surveyed the area with his camera. He motioned Lara to come closer and spoke in a very quiet whisper. "There's an encampment about two hundred yards ahead - looks like a full platoon. We're gonna head around - unless you really wanna give your new toy a try..." Lara shook her head. Max guessed her next question. "I've got a infra-red lens on this thing, great for night stuff, and looks a helluva lot better than all that green crap, and it doesn't pick up normal light so you can't get blinded - also great in the fog." Lara could see no viewfinder or monitor on his camera gear. "How do you see?" "I've got a miniature monitor built into my glasses, so that I can control the camera and see everything else - and not give my position away." "Very good." "Takes a while to get used to." They gave the troops a wide berth and half an hour later were at their destination. It was a dirt road, not the asphalt from earlier. The rain that had been falling all night had turned the passage into a mud river. The two were careful, but each got caught up in the mud as they walked the hundred-or-so meters to a car-shaped lump. "Is that it?" "Yeah," Max grabbed the camouflage webbing that covered the car and yanked it off, "Ta-da!" The camo net revealed a small Subaru wagon. There was nothing on the car that would indicate that it was suited to or even capable of dealing with the climate that it was surrounded by. The only items on the Impreza that looked to have been added were a set of four auxiliary lights on the front and luggage box on the roof rack. Max looked at the car like a father at a son. "What do you think, looks like a complete POS commuter ride, right?" Lara knew better than to insult Max's (or any man's) car. "I bet there is more to your auto than meets the eye." "You know it." Max de-activated the alarm and opened the back door. His camera fit perfectly into a holster assembly, lights confirmed that the batteries were charging. Closing the hatch, Max moved to the front and beckoned Lara to do the same on her side. Upon opening the door, Lara was confronted by an odd odor and a confusing array of wires and monitors all over the dash. The seat before her was reclined all the way and a pillow and blanket rested on it. Max, who was already in the driver's seat, reached over and threw the bedding to the back. Lara pulled a lever on the seat to return it to a normal seating posture. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company." Lara took her seat. "You live here?" "Naw, I just sleep here when I on location and too far away from the hotel. I've got a room in San Jose. 'Guess this is my home away from home away from home." Lara then noticed that Max was encased in a racing seat, with H-type harness system holding him in place. "I don't get a safety-seat too?" "Yeah, this thing doesn't recline and I can't sleep sitting up - did I mention that I wasn't expecting company?" With that he dug into a side pouch in the door and produced a pack of cigarettes. With a lighter in the other hand, he very methodically smacked the pack against it twelve times on each side before opening the pack and removing one of the cigarettes. He lit it like a desperate man clinging to a ledge, inhaled deeply, and exhaled smoke with a great sigh. Lara then placed the smell that dwelled in the car. An entire tobacco field had literally been smoked in it. While she was thankful for the ride, the odor was actually making her a bit queasy. Max offered her the pack, and she politely refused. "Never too late to start," he lectured. Lara began to regret not walking home... Max, cigarette between his lips, shut his door and inserted his key. Lara closed her door and readied herself for departure as monitors and lights sprang to life all about here. It looked as if a small country could be run from this little car - or this man had just seen a few too many science fiction movies. Max started the engine. It chugged a little, straining, and then finally turned over. Max pressed the clutch and moved the gear-shift into first, revved the engine, and the dropped the clutch. The buzz of the anemic little four cylinder was quickly replaced by the whine of a turbocharger, and the increased acceleration that went along with it. Lara was unprepared for all four of the car's wheels to be spitting mud as tires fought for grip. "Definitely more than meets they eye..." Lara commented as she instinctively reached for the passenger-assist handle on the ceiling. "Thanks. Did most of the work myself." Lara refrained from comment as they accelerated towards a very tight corner and Max was showing no signs of backing off of the throttle. As they got closer, Max did start to apply the brakes, and then turned the wheel in the OPPOSITE direction of the turn. Lara looked over to Max to see what he had in mind, and saw a large smile on his face, she was about to say something when Max racked the steering wheel back and hit the brakes hard, resulting in the rear end breaking loose and whipping around, carrying the car through the turn sideways and at a much higher rate of speed than would normally have been possible. Lara was just beginning to think positively of her decision to come with Max when she noticed the two HUMVEEs that created an impromptu road block several hundred meters down the road.

Chapter Four

Max de-activated his lights and brought the Subaru to a halt in short order. There was a moment of silence. "Did they see us?" Lara whispered. "They had to..." Max whispered back, " and that's the only way out of here - they've got us..." Suddenly, a small light started to strobe by the HUMVEEs. Max threw the wagon into reverse as the tracers started coming in. The shots went wide as the gunners got their bearings. Max again mashed the brake pedal and cut the wheel, but this time it brought the front end of the car around. Without coming to a complete stop, Max was already in gear and heading back around the curve and out of sight of the trucks and their guns. As soon as they were back on straight road, Max hit a switch on the dash, which disabled all of the exterior lights. "Always wanted to try this out..." Max slowed the car, but no brake lights came on. He then backed it into small space in the jungle and stopped. "C'mon guys, give chase..." As if in answer to his plea, one of the HUMVEEs came roaring by. If they had spotted the Impreza, they did not indicate it as they sped past and continued off into the distance. "...And your buddy..." This time, there was no response, only a dark, quiet road. "It seems as if his 'buddy' is standing watch back there," Lara interjected. "Really?" Max dripped with sarcasm. "How do you suggest we get by the other one?" "I dunno, we could try an end run, but even with speed on our side, the road is just too long and straight, the gunners would line up and turn us into dogfood - or maybe not." "You mean to tell me that with all of the toys that you surround yourself with, you have no offensive weapons?" "Sure, I just don't have any of them with me - I sure wasn't expecting that kind of company..." Max trailed off as he looked down at Lara's leg with wide eyes. She was about to hit him when she realized what he was thinking...

* * * The headlights of the HUMVEE illuminated much of the road ahead - there was no way that the little car was going to sneak up on them. Not that it really mattered, the other truck was sure to get the kill - their job was just to keep the road blocked - how hard could that be? The gunner kept his eyes trained on the road, waiting for any sign. For a moment, he thought he saw some flashes, he tensed up and swung his M-60 into position - his eyes must have been playing tricks... Just as he heard the first of the shots, the driver's side headlight exploded. The passenger's soon followed, plunging the area into darkness. Eyes straining to adjust, the gunner readied himself for an another attack. It came, but not in the way he might have thought. There was an explosion of light as Max kicked on the auxiliary lamps on the front of his car. With everyone in the HUMVEE straining to see down the road, it took them especially by surprise, blinding them all. The Impreza launched towards the truck, but the Subaru looked different this time. Lara Croft, her torso out of the sunroof, took aim on the truck with her new BAR and opened up on it. Short bursts of controlled fire hit the HUMVEE. Most of them were concentrated in the area of the machine gun, but others found their way to the windshield. As they approached the truck, Lara's weapon clicked empty. Figuring that she would find more ammunition for the rifle later, Lara placed it on the seat below her and drew her pistols and let loose on the truck, as if to drive her point home. When the Impreza finally reached the HUMVEE, there was no protest, or indeed any reaction at all as it past the road block. Lara allowed herself a smile for immobilizing the large vehicle, and dropped back to her seat. "Good driving, I must say." Max could only nod in her direction. He was pale and hunched over with pain, but continued to drive. A thousand thoughts went through Lara's head - perhaps there was some return fire from the HUMVEE, or Max had been hemorrhaging from Lara's gunshots and did not know it until then. Though they had only met a few hours before, Lara was honestly concerned about her new companion. "What is it?" She asked. "Nuts..." was all Max could manage. "What?" "You...when you were up there, you were standing on my nuts..." It took Lara a moment to understand the reference. When she did, a broad smile crossed her face - one that she unsuccessfully tried to hide. "Great! First you shoot me, then cold-cock me, then literally bust my balls - what's next? There are all kinds of things in the blades and piercing family that you haven't used on me yet..." "I really am sorry..." Lara offered. "Sorry? You wanna talk sorry? Let me jump up and down on your uterus for five minutes and then we can all be sorry together..." Lara was wondering if Max was still joking until she looked over and saw that his smile was broader than hers. "All right, I'll buy you two cartons." "Two cartons?" "Yes." "Do you think you can buy me with cigarettes?" "What? No." "Okay. However, I can be rented cheap." Lara had no return comment, and the two shared a moment of silence, the wagon's spinning turbo the only noise. Soon, the scenery became much more flat and open, and the road quality went from nonexistent to merely poor. Lara turned to Max, intending to ask him about their arrival time, but found that he was already occupied with another task - his finger jammed up one of his nostrils. For a moment, Lara thought that this vulgar man was making a display of his nose probing for her benefit, but soon realized that he was simply acting out of impulse and necessity. Max was really not expecting company. Lara returned her gaze to the road and waited for some indication that Max's little quest had concluded. In a way, she was somewhat relieved when she heard a rhythmic thumping, just a little louder than the car's engine. The noise began to get increasingly louder. Almost as soon as she began to wonder what the noise was, she remembered. The gunships had caught up to them...

Chapter Five

Max maintained his previous speed and course - he was even slowing down a bit. Lara wondered for a moment if he had even heard the helo. She turned to him to tell him about it, but saw that his attention was fixed on a set of blinking lights off near the horizon. Max not only heard the aircraft, he had already spotted it. "Come on, I'm right here..." he taunted quietly. From the helo came two flashes, and Max slammed the car down into third and dropped the clutch, causing the wheels to spin out even though the car was already going fifty. The sudden burst of speed carried the Impreza past the kill zone before the rockets impacted, filling the night with their fireballs. "Suckers!" Max shouted, "any more ammo for that artillery piece there?" Lara looked down at the BAR for a moment. "I thought I'd come across some." "Okay then, Plan B." "Be so kind as to tell me what Plan B is?" "I drive really goddam fast and hope we can make it to some cover before they kill us?" "Good plan, I'll cover us," Lara declared as she pushed the sunroof switch, opening it. Lara emerged from the sunroof, this time facing backwards. As she drew her pistols, she got her first good look at her attacker. Before seeing it, she knew that it was a UH-1 Huey - nothing else sounds remotely like it. There are many different weapon combinations that the helo could carry. Lara knew that they were carrying FFAR's - unguided high-explosive rockets. If they had equipped Hellfires or other guided air-to-ground weapons, Lara would not have been around to wonder about it. The Huey also had a least one door gunner. Lara's insight was mainly due to the tracers that were speeding towards the Subaru. "Incoming!" Lara shouted down through the sunroof. "Gotcha!" Max responded, sending the car sliding from one side of the road to the other. The first burst impacted behind the wagon, and a second one getting closer as the rounds were walked into the little car. Lara took aim with her pistols and opened fire on the Huey. Lara knew the chances of her taking down a military-prepared gunship with a pair of 9mm handguns - there was virtually none. However, she was not earnestly trying to shoot down the helo, just distract the crew and, hopefully, knock off their aim. After emptying both weapons at the chopper, she was rewarded with one identifiable spark as at least one of her slugs struck home. The Huey broke off and took evasive maneuvers. Lara ejected the spent magazines and inserted new ones as the Huey repositioned for another pass. Max was aware of the situation, and saw an out - there were approaching a turn onto a small trail. It looked barely wide enough for the car and Max had no idea where it led to, but it was topped by trees that provided precious cover. Max barely had the time to yell, "Hold on!" before taking the screaming right hander, causing Lara to lean more towards the driver's side, and placing more weight on her right foot, which was firmly placed on Max's crotch - again. The moment the started down the narrow passage, Max knew that he had made a mistake. He slammed down the brakes, trying to stop the car before the low-hangning branches snapped his companion in two. There was no chance of the car stopping in time. Lara, with no warning at all, would be cut to pieces by the pieces of wood moving at a relative forty miles per hour. Thinking quickly, Max reaches up and grabbed for her. He hand found purchase on the large brass buckle of her pistol belt and pulled with all of his might. She seemed to fight him for a moment, but then complied with him as some part of her realized what he was doing. She collapsed in Max's lap as gracefully as possible, just as a large tree limb removed much of the paint from the roof of the car, then ripped off the roof carrier as the car jolted to a stop. Max was then staring into the muzzle of Lara's Browning. "Watch you fingers..." she warned. "Wait a second! You use Mr. Bouncy as a foot-rest, twice, and then I'm the jerk for grabbing you near Happyland so that you're head isn't ripped off." Renewed fire from the helo interrupted any reply Lara might have offered. Max turned out the car's light and drew his sidearm. "Got an idea. Reach into the back, the red drawer." Lara, not pinned by a safety harness like Max, slid into the cargo area and immediately located the storage area. She opened it, and was about to ask Max what he needed so badly when she saw it... A flare gun - this guy had everything jammed into this little car. She grabbed the device and some ammo and returned to the front seat where Max had finished unlatching himself from the harness. "Let's have it." Lara handed the flare pistol over and Max opened his door and got out, Lara did the same on her side. Max trained the flare gun on the fallen roof pod and waited. "Come on numb-nuts, give it a reason..." A few moments later, Max's wish was answered by a burst of machine gun fire that tracked randomly up the road. The burst never really came close to the Impreza, but it was close enough to the pod... Max fired the flare gun at the pod, hoping that the helo crew would not figure out his little trick. The flare flew right at the pod, then struck it, burning for a moment. Lara watched the flare glow in the night. "And just what is that going to accomplish?" "Well, I sorta keep some extra gas in there - I just hope that one of the cans is ruptured." "And if not?" Max loaded another flare and was taking aim when the carrier went up. It did not explode in the classical sense. Rather, it ignighted and sent a fireball and cloud into the air. The helo could still be heard, but the shooting had ceased. "C'mon guys, we're dead as the USFL, go home and have a cold one - you've earned it." The rotor noises of the Huey changed, they seemed to be getting quieter - or was that slower. The helicopter was landing in a clearing a short way up the main road, several government troops dropped out and were heading towards the burning pod. "No! You’re supposed to go home!" “They must not have heard you, why don't you yell a little louder..." Lara replied sarcastically. "Thanks a lot, appreciate it. You must've really pissed these jerk-wads off - what'd you do?" "Maybe they're not after me, maybe you filmed something that they don't want to see on CNN." "This is tape, not film," Max corrected as he opened the car door and removed his camera, quickly attaching the cables to his vest and glasses, "hey, at least things are a little more even..." "Very true. How many in their party?" Max trained the camera towards the Huey. "Looks like four in all. Two look like regular grunts sporting AK's - the other two look like the crew, maybe co-pilot and gunner - sidearms only." "You deal with them and I'll make sure that bird stays put." "Sounds like a plan." Lara headed off into the jungle in an attempt to out-flank the Huey, thus taking the remaining crew by surprise. Max scanned the area for a moment, finding an appropriate area from which to fight, and took up position in the dark, thumbing the RECORD button on his camera. Giving credit where due, Max had gone up against groups a whole lot dumber than these guys. It appeared that the Co-pilot (?) was in charge and was directing the others to the burning area. They had to know that cars just don't explode like Max's little gasoline trick - if it had truly worked, then these guys would be on their way home at the moment. Drawing his Glock from his thigh holster, Max opted to take out their commander first. He was only going to get one shot with the element of surprise, then his muzzle flash would let every person in a thousand yards know where he was. He depressed the trigger slightly, sending out an invisible beam towards the approaching soldiers. Invisible, that is, to the naked eye - not to the special infra red lens mounted on Max's camera. The beam wavelength was well above the visible spectrum - all the better for drawing a bead on the unsuspecting. Max zoomed in on the group and deftly focused the camera, all with his right hand. The dot moved up the commander's chest to his temple and hovered there as the man got closer. Max double-checked that he was recording and pulled the trigger. Even at the range Max fired from, the .40 caliber round did more than enough damage, also serving to disorient the subordinates as their commander's head exploded like a melon. They ducked to crouching position and began looking for Max, who could see them clearly from his vantage point. Apparently, none of them had seen his muzzle flash - a little luck now and then never hurt. Max drew a bead on one of the AK-equipped soldiers, ready for another kill. Suddenly the rapid cracks of automatic weapons fire shattered the tense silence. Faint muzzle flashes could be seen from the direction of the Huey. The sudden gunfire caused Max's target to jerk in that direction - just as Max opened fire. What would have been another head wound, turned into a superficial shoulder hit, and most definitely gave away Max's position. There was more fire in the distance as Max got down on one knee, just as the other two began to fire on his position. While they had a general idea of where he was, their erratic firing pattern posed no imminent threat. Not wanting to give them a good target, Max raised his camera into the line of fire. The "Ridiculously Expensive Periscope" trick had served him well in the past (and had also cost him some fine cameras). Using this tactic, Max was able to see the that two of the men were continuing to fire in his general direction, while the other soldier in flight gear was fiddling with something, then finally worked it loose. The pin of a grenade. Max was just about to get worried when the man began to jerk about, and then fell to the ground - the victim of multiple gunshot wounds. The others in the group realized what had happened a few seconds too late, and the fallen grenade silenced their guns forever. Max, still hiding, panned the camera to the left and saw Lara brandishing an AK-47 of her own. She trained the weapon on the remains of the soldiers until she was sure they were dead. Max rose and walked over to her. "Are you all right?" Lara asked Max. "Sure, got some great stuff - that was great the way you showed up and took out the grenade guy - pure gold." "If you're quite finished accepting your Academy, can we be going?" "Sure," Max replied, turning towards his car, "I hope that you picked up some ammo for that thing." Lara replied by holding aloft a bandoleer that contained at least six more magazines for the rifle. "So I guess Murphy says that we won't see any more trouble tonight..."

Chapter Six

Dawn was just peeking over the horizon, finding the little station wagon parked at the side of the road. Lara still sat in the passenger seat, but Max was nowhere to be seen. Lara did not seem terribly concerned over the absence of her new companion; she was idly loading an empty magazine from a box of shells from her backpack. The two had crossed the border ten minutes ago. Technically, they should be safe, but Lara was always one to be prudent. Placing the thirteenth round in the clip, Lara gave it small tap on the dash to line up all of the bullets. She then looked about quickly, removed the ash tray, overflowing with ash and butts, and dumped it out of the open window. She then gave the slightly-cleaner air a satisfied sniff and allowed herself a small smile. A moment later Max appeared from the nearby trees. In one hand he bore a video catalog, in the other, a distinctive roll of long, white paper. He ran to the car and took his seat, readying another cigarette. "Ready to go?" Lara asked. "Give me a second here...something at dinner last night was not nice to me." "I don't believe the matter needs to be discussed." "C'mon, you mean to tell me you never took a dump-a-roony in the woods before?" "Whether I have or not, you can be sure that I do not make quite an 'event' of it." "Whatever..." Max replied as he got the car back on the road. "Anyway, you got all of these bits for this guy and he turns into a spider?" "Something like that." "Care for a little advice?" "Don't have a choice, do I." "Seems like everyone who hires you, ends up trying to kill you and take what you've gotten for them." "Does seem like that, doesn't it." "Okay, I’ve got a good story for you." "It is your turn." "Okay, it was Christmas Eve, nineteen...ninety-three. My wife and I had been separated for a few months - she had moved out to California..." Lara only half-listened to Max after that, as a quick wave of emotion swept over her at Max mentioning a wife. This feeling took Lara completely by surprise. There was not a part of her that was even remotely attracted to this vulgar man. More likely, she was astonished that someone would actually marry him... ...And he did say that he was separated. "...And there I was, trying to signal for help, terrorists all around, with no shoes on! I tried to pull the fire alarm..." Lara looked to him as he stopped telling the story. "What?" "It's a joke - didn't you even see Die Hard?" "Afraid I'm not a big cinema buff." "Okay, I was just telling you the plot of a movie - it was a joke." "Oh. No real stories to tell?" She jibed him out of a sense of relief - so he was not married after all... But why should that matter to her? "Sure..." he trailed off, "but you don't want to hear them..." "So sure?" "Sure that any respect you have for me as a person, driver, or road trip companion will go right out the window." "Now I am intrigued..." "So, what were you looking for up at the mine?" "Something old." "Touché," he replied, "care to be any more specific?" "Maybe..." She said in a coy manner. Max threw what was left of his current cigarette out the window, and pressed the button to cycle it closed. The car suddenly became very quiet. "Tell ya what, you fill me in on your current quest and I don't light up for the whole time you're tellin' it." "No fags 'till we get to San Jose." "You drive a hard bargain - but okay." "All right. I was tasked with finding the parts to an ancient device - one that supposedly would lead its owner to the doorway to heaven." "So you're not going after the Holy Grail..." "Already found it. It's on my mantle." "Really?" "No, I haven't gotten round to finding that one yet." "Honey, there's only room in this car for one wise-ass, and you’re lookin' in its direction." "You'll get little argument from me..." "Good. So, this little doo-dad...let me guess, the pieces are scattered all over the globe." "You've done this kind of work before?" "No, just an admirer." "I see my reputation precedes me." "Don't let it go to your head. I just kept an eye out for you because...I thought that we were sorta alike." A that comment Lara actually laughed - the very thought of that vulgar combat Paparazzi... For the briefest of moments, Max actually looked hurt. Realizing that his face was betraying his feelings, he quickly turned his head to the road - where it should have been in the first place. "So, I take it that you missed the piece up in the mines - how old a thing are we talkin'?" "The first piece has been carbon dated as being three thousand years old." "That would pre-date both the Incan and Mayan cultures - at least, before they organized into anything worth while..." "Good guess, pick that up on Final Jeopardy last week?" "Maybe it's just me, but I think that you should give the sarcasm thing a rest - you're not very good at it." "And I suppose you are?" "I wrote the book, babe." Lara's hand moved with blinding speed towards Max's face. When it arrived, there was nothing there to slap, save for the lip of the racing seat - which collided painfully with her wrist. Max smiled at her as she rubbed wounded limb. "Too slow..." Lara reeled back to strike at him again, but never got the chance because the Subaru was soon careening to the other side of the road, then back again. While this evasive maneuver was happening, Max repeated in a high-pitched voice, "Don't mess with the driver!" After a few seconds, Lara stopped trying to hit Max and vowed to get revenge later. In response, Max stopped yelling and brought the car back to its previous course and speed. "Anyway," Max tried to liven up the mood with a mock-aristocratic accent, "I believe, Miss Croft, the we were speaking of the artifact and its origins..." "Yes. Accounts state that there are five pieces of this device. The first piece was located in at a dig in Giza in the nineteen twenties. It was this piece that gave the clues to the others." "Why wait this long to investigate?" "That's one of the peculiar points here - after begin found, nineteen twenty-three is my closest estimate, this piece disappeared again for seventy years." "Where did it go?" "If I knew that, then there wouldn't be so much mystery." "Point taken. Go on." It was at this moment that it dawned on Lara that Max was taking their conversation very seriously - even more so than she. Why was Lara behaving in such a manner? Even she had no answers to that question. "So, the first piece showed up at a pawn shop in Denver - I believe that is your 'home turf.'" "A little west of my area, but I live a lot closer to there than you do..." "It was purchased for the sum of twenty-five dollars by a research assistant at the University of Colorado - intended as a joke to play on one of the professors. As a result, the item was carbon dated and its age discovered. I was contacted merely for help in deciphering the characters on the item, but then others learned of its existence and the item was stolen." "The super-blonde in the HUMMER?" "Exactly. This is not the first confrontation that Elder and I have had with one another. She stole the first piece, and all of my translation notes." "And those your translation led you to the mines here?" "Actually no, each piece has clues to the location of two others. I believe that all five were to be placed next to each other, and each piece has information about the two that border it. I beat them to the punch in Scandinavia, and was in Germany when Elder arrived first, getting the location of this piece and making arrangements to get it while en route." "So...you originally get your hands on One in Colorado. One tells you where Two and Three are. You grab Two in Scandinavia, which tells you where Five is, and where One is - but you already got that one. Then, Elder beats you to Three, which leads the both of you here to Four. How did you know it was here if Elder got Three?" "I stowed away on her ship a week ago." "Cool." "Yes...cool. I do need to make a call when we reach San Jose, I don't seem to have any money on me at the moment, I'll have my people wire me some cash." "No problem. So, you just hopped on a ship and crossed the Atlantic..." "A little like your ancestors, yes?" "Sure, just like Great Uncle Steve..."

Chapter Seven

As the city of San Jose approached them, Max noticed a new problem - they were nearly out of gas. Luckily, there was a station at the side of the road, and they pulled off to re-fuel. As Max was pumping, Lara approached. "I'm sorry...I don't wish to be a bother, but could I possibly borrow a little - I'm thirsty." "Sure, grab whatever you want, the guy inside has my card." Lara wandered into the store and soon emerged with a sack of items, and took her seat. When Max went inside to sign the receipt, his bill was almost double the price of the gasoline - he hoped Lara enjoyed whatever she had gotten.

Soon, they were back on the road; Lara raised the bottle of Scotch to her lips and drank deeply, swallowing without the slightest hint of discomfort. She was about to offer the bottle to Max when she caught his gaze... He was staring at her with eyes that might have devoured her, it was desire, plain and simple and oh-so powerful. His expression immediately changed and he returned to his normal half-smile. "Good stuff?" Lara was somewhat uncomfortable with him. While she was certainly no stranger to the desires of men, she thought that this was not something that she and Max would have to go through. In fact, she very must respected the fact that he had not tried anything with her - even his eyes remained trained on hers when he spoke to her, never wandering downwards. Knowing that there was some kind of libido inside of this man cheapened him - not that he had all that too far left to go in the realm of cheapness. She decided to pass his "transgression" off as him simply being a male - something that she had learned to deal with long ago... "Not bad, care for a wee nip?" Almost as she was saying the words, she realized that they were not the wisest choice she could have made at that moment, but Max did not seem to notice, his manner did not change as he replied. "I wouldn't touch that rot-gut in a million years..." "This was the best they had." "I know, I saw the bill..." "I'm good for it, you little Scrooge." "Sure, I turn my back for a second in San Jose, and you'll be half way to Tijuana." They both chuckled, more out of relief of tension than of Max's joke.

The lobby of the San Jose Hilton was fairly quiet on this particular Tuesday morning - but not too quiet that two people who had been in the jungle for a little too long would have gone unnoticed. Almost immediately, the Concierge tried to talk them out of entering, and after establishing that Max was a guest, they were encouraged to use the freight entrance in the rear. Max offered the use of the phone in his room, and the two made their way up the back stair well. Max showered while Lara made several maddening attempts to contact someone in England, but the time of night there made reaching someone who could authorize the wiring of funds to her difficult. She finally opted to leave a message with her bank for them to contact her at the hotel as soon as possible - before she found another place to keep her sizable savings With that issue unresolved, and her companion still washing the jungle off of himself, Lara set about taking in his room. Max's choice of accommodations seemed to value economy and privacy over elegance. The bed was neatly made - astonishing, considering that the "Do Not Disturb" sign was on the door as they arrived - could this man be a closeted neat freak? Max's clothes were all neatly hung in the closet, a little bit of the same military regalia he was wearing in the field and a good number of loud island shirts. Lara was amused at the collection of shirts that were stored in the closet - this man must constantly resemble the cliched American tourist. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, green leotard, khaki shorts; she decided to allow Max his little fashion rut to avoid the pangs of hypocrisy. The other half of the room was dominated by a series of monitors, video decks and a laptop - this must be where this man cuts together his little clips of death. Of course, the ash tray next to the computer was overflowing with cigarette butts. The sound of running water ceased, grabbing Lara's attention. A few moments later, Max appeared in a robe, and hurriedly started grabbing clothing out of the closet. "Shower's free - if you want." "Afraid I have nothing to wear." "Raid my closet - my stuff might be a little big on you, but I think that anything beats a weeks worth of sweat and crap all over you." "I think I'll be all right." "I'm more worried about me - you are a little ripe." "Really?" "Well, by a 'little ripe.' I mean that I can smell you over here, and it's not all that great. So, either take a shower here, or go and get your own room." "I can't get a hold of my bank." "Damn, I'd think, with a high-profile customer like you, they'd be jumping hoops just to take care of you." "I suppose not." "Just go ahead and clean up here. Hey, if I was pulling something underhanded, I would have done it long before now..." He did have a point, and Lara had been dreaming of cleaning up for several days now. "All right," Lara conceded, heading into the bathroom, "I may be a little while." "There should be plenty of the hotel soap and junk in there, I bring my own toiletries." "Thank you." Lara moved into the bathroom, making sure to secure the door. She quickly stripped off her clothing, noticing that she had acquired some fresh tan lines from her recent adventures - no worry though. She stepped into the shower and began to take the first layers of dirt and sweat that she had acquired over the past week, completely unmindful of Max's shaving kit that lay on a shelf above the towel rack. Even staring right at the small bag, she probably would not have noticed the small hole in it, much less the lens that rested inside. Chapter Eight

As Lara dried herself off, she remembered the look that Max had given her in the car - and part of her liked it very much. While Lara was no stranger to people yearning for her, it was usually the moment they saw her - not several hours and several possible opportunities later did they even attempt something. But then Max didn't try anything, did he? A knock on the door broke her train of thought. "Yes?" she answered. "It's me," Max replied, "I've got some clothes and same more towels, are you decent?" A devilish smile crossed her face and an impulse rose up from deep inside of her. Normally, such an impulse would never reach the controlled surface of Lara Croft, but this was not a normal situation. Part of her thought it would be a splendid joke on Max, and another part of her hoped that he would not find it funny in the least. "Yes." Max opened the door to find Lara facing him full in the nude. He barely had a moment to see her before flinching and placing one of the towels in front of his face. "Jesus! I'm sorry, here you go." He offered the contents of his hands to Lara. "You and you're European sensibility - when I ask if you are decent, that means 'are you covered up?'" "I know very well what it means." Lara took Max's offerings and found that his head was now behind the door, which he slowly closed. As his right hand moved to ease it shut, Lara noticed something that she had not seen due to the gloves that Max had been wearing since their meeting. A wedding ring. Several minutes later, Lara stepped from the room wearing one of Max's loud shirts, a pair of his long khaki slacks, and a dour expression that was all her own. Embarrassment was an emotion that Lara Croft dealt with about as often as she dealt with rejection. No longer having these feelings was a cost/benefit of her life as the Tomb Raider, and there was not much she could do to prepare herself for the awkwardness that was to follow. Max was seated in front of his editing station, but seemed to be paying much more attention to the cigarette that was burning away in his hand. He nodded in her direction as she entered the room, but did not look at her for fear that she was still naked. "I am decent." "Yeah..." Max's voice trailed off. Lara started to say something, but the words were not there for her. Max seemed to know, and offered to let them both down easily. "I've got that release for you to sign..." "Let's have it." Max passes a clip board over to Lara and she signed at the bottom without really reading the document, then handed it back to Max, who then offered her an American dollar bill. "What's this?" "Compensation for using your image, kind of a formality, but..." "Thank you." Lara looked at the monitor and saw, not a combat situation, but a peasant father and child. It seemed that the father was trying to teach his son how to dance, not having a great deal of success. "What is this?" she asked. "I managed to save some footage from the tape you shot." "You shot that?" "You know anyone else in that jungle with a digital video camera?" "It's very good." "Thanks, to bad it won't make the cut - old habits die hard." "And what habits are those?" "Shooting stuff that I can't sell..." Then they both just looked at the screen, the young boy continually stepping on his father's feet. Without looking at her, Max said to Lara. "In the bathroom, did what I thought happen, just happen?" "I believe so." "You know, I'm married." "I realized that a moment too late. I wish you had removed your gloves a bit sooner." "Dammit." "What?" "See, I can't even brag about this, 'cause no one will believe it. Just add that footage to the 'too real for real' pile." "The what?" "Oh, I have this little collection of footage that is just a little too much. Things that no one would believe, even if they saw it." "I've seen some pretty unbelievable things..." "I bet. You getting hungry?" "Famished actually." "Wanna grab a bite?" "I would love to." Max grabbed a black nylon satchel and the two wandered down to the lobby (taking the elevator this time) and into the hotel's main restaurant. They had missed the brunch crowd and were early for lunch, so the room was quite empty, save for a few groups talking amongst themselves. Unfortunately, the hostess stand was also vacant. As Lara and Max were debating hijacking one of the tables, an obviously American family rose and started to exit. Among the party were two young boys, one a litter younger than ten, the other a little older. Upon seeing Lara and Max at the hostess stand, they stopped and whispered to each other. Lara had seen this prelude before. The young boys would run up and fawn over her, telling her how they loved her books and the series of video games that had been loosely based on her adventures. There was a time in her life that she actually enjoyed such displays - that time had passed. The two boys tried to casually approach, gathering their courage, and then the younger one spoke. "Max Reynolds?" "Yeah?" Both of the boys produced napkins from the table they were sitting at. The older boy spoke next. "I...we were wondering...could we...get your autograph?" Lara was dumbstruck - who was this man? Max returned their awkwardness with a warm, artificial smile and produced a pen from his breast pocket. "Sure thing, what are your names?" The older boy looked at Max as though he had said nothing, the younger boy took his cue. "I'm Taylor, this is my brother, Zack." "Taylor and Zack, okay..." Lara was actually beginning to miss being fawned over as Max began writing on the napkins and the boys' mother backtracked to find them. "Zachary, Taylor-Dean, we do not speak to strangers." "But mom this is the guy from the video!" Their mother, who was pushing forty but wanted the rest of the world to think differently, looked Max up and down, trying to recognize the celebrity before her. "I'm sorry they bothered you. Boys, let's go." But the two were already re-enacting some past adventure of Max Reynolds, miming a camera in one hand, finger-pistol in the other. They began to blast away at imaginary bad-guys. Upon that display, their Mother seemed to realize something. "You are that man?" "Guilty as charged," Max replied, still keeping up his publicity face. "You sir, are what's wrong with this world. I bought them that horrible tape, and finally threw it away; you are a terrible, terrible man. Boys, now!" She beckoned to her children, and they grudgingly followed her - whining and heads lowered all the way. "Fans of yours?" Lara spoke before she looked at her new friend. The tops of his ears were actually turning red with rage - another new side of Max Reynolds that she had not expected. "You know what really pisses me off more than anything?" "No." "If had cold-cocked that bitch, I would be the jerk. If I tried to defend my work to her, I would be the jerk. As it stands now, I am the jerk - kinda' no-win, isn't it?" Lara searched herself for something consoling to say to Max, but there was nothing. She did not have enough information to piece together anything reassuring - she really knew very little about the man standing before her. At that moment she recalled his words in the car about her losing all respect for him if she knew what he did - was it just video tapes, or were the tapes more than she thought? A hostess appeared from the kitchen, and soon the two were seated in the "smoking" section. They were barely seated when their waitress appeared. "Can I get you two started off with anything to drink?" "Scotch, please, single-malt - neat," Lara ordered. "Whatever diet cola you have..." Lara shot Max a surprised look. "Please, have a drink with me," she plunked her dollar bill down on the table, "my treat." "Thanks, but I'll stick with the diet." "Great, I'll give you a few moments to decide," the server replied. Lara raised an eyebrow, "too good to drink with me?" "Naw, nothing like that," "Then please, on the odd occasion that I have some spirits, I hate to do it alone." "I'm gonna have to pass..." "Max, what is it?" "That's the first time you said my name - your accent makes it sound cool." "You're evading..." "Sorry. The old Maxi-Pad here...he's a alcoholic.' "I'm sorry." "Damn you Lara Croft - it's your 'odd occasion' of spirits that made me into the monster I am - arrrgh!" Max contorted his face into that of a menacing demon - or a reasonable facsimile there of. "I didn't mean that...I'm sorry that I tried to force you to drink..." "Apology accepted, but I'll tell you what, in my seven years of sobriety, not knocking back a few with you was one of the hardest decision I've ever made." The waitress then set down Lara's drink. Lara glanced briefly at the drink and then at Max, who was staring at the glass with the same intensity that he was looking at Lara earlier in the car - and then it all made sense. Max wanted her booze, not her. "I'm sorry, I've had a change of heart, I think I'll have a diet as well." "No," Max protested, "'I'll be just fine. Enjoy." To the server's delight, Lara kept her drink and began to sip at it - Max did likewise. "So," began, trying to divert Max's attention from her glass, "how is it that you are so well versed in Central American history?" "I did my master's thesis on the long-term significance of the fall of Tenoxtitian." "Really..." "Thought I was some under-educated vid-jockey?" "Well, no..." "It's cool, really. I have little use for Academia, and they have even less use for me." "I understand." "I thought you might." "Where did you study?" "Aw hell, undergrad work at OSU...then Masters of Cultural Anthropology from U of Chicago, then Doctorate work at USC." "I'm not very familiar with their program out there..." "Neither am I, my doctorate is in motion pictures." "Ah, with the camera..." "Exactly. You really need to be well-versed in a century of film history and theory to follow around 'freedom-fighters' and grab the action shots." "May I ask..." "Why I do this and am not teaching a class somewhere, or making Schwarzenegger's next movie, or, better yet, making documentaries about long-lost cultures?" "Something like that..." "There's a big gap between what you want to do and the cards that life deals you. All those degrees don't mean squat when you're wife tells you that the family is about to get larger by fifty percent and you aren't making the kind of money that it takes to start a family. So, you do what you have to, and I'm doing this now..." Lara could tell that Max's speech was well-rehearsed, she wondered how often he used it. "Not your ideal occupation then." "Hey, life sucks, get a helmet." "Interesting philosophy." "Yeah - stole it from Dennis Leary." "Who?" "Never mind." Their conversation continued for several hours. They spoke of ancient civilizations, modern adventures, and life in general. As they spoke, Lara began to see that this man before her was indeed a kindred spirit in more ways than she could count. She found herself telling things to this odd American that she had never told anyone before, there was something about him that made her trust him like no one she had ever met. It was not like Lara never had a connection to another person, she often ran into people who thought as she did - in certain ways. There were those that she met in the field who understood how to fight and survive as she had learned to do, but those people often knew little else. On the other hand, back in England, she often could exchange ideas with scholars, but they just could not comprehend an honest fight for one's life. But this man was different. At some point in the afternoon (they had been at the table for over five hours - much to their server's chagrin) the concierge informed Lara that her transfer had been completed and she had a suite waiting for her - along with a large sum of money and confirmation of a flight leaving early the next morning for London. Realizing the hour and the fact that they had not slept for any length of time that day, the two grudgingly parted company and went to their respective rooms and slept heavily.

Chapter Nine

The following morning, Lara rose early and made her way to Max's room, a spring in her step and a carton of cigarettes in each hand. She still wore the clothing that she had borrowed from Max, hoping to do a little shopping before riding to the airport. After repeated knocking, she 'convinced' one of the housekeeping employees to let her in. As the door opened, Lara knew Max was gone, his editing station and clothing were no where to be seen. The only indications of his stay were the stanch of his cigarettes and the over-flowing ashtrays. Lara was somewhat dejected as she was checking out, she still wanted more time with that man, she had been having fun last night - and could not remember the last time it had happened. As if in answer to her desires, the desk clerk presented her with an envelope bearing the hotel's crest with "Laura Croft" written on the front of it. Her right eyebrow raised just a little, and then she opened the note, which read:

Laura, Sorry to bail on you, but I've got a really long drive ahead of me - we're talkin' four days back to the land of the Buckeye. I did call to say 'good-bye' but guess you were sleeping the sleep of the dead, so I'll call this good enough. I just wanted to say that it was a real honor meeting you - I hope I didn't piss you off too bad - I know my social skills are not the best in the universe. Enclosed is my card. If you are ever back in the States, feel free to give me a ring, or just drop me an E-mail for the hell of it - but you are under no obligation whatsoever.

Talk to you later, Max

P.S. - You can keep the clothes - a memento. P.P.S. - Where in the hell are my cigarettes? Bust a deal - face the wheel! (Movie reference - don't worry about it.)

Lara stared at the note for several minutes. She was both overjoyed at receiving the note and angry at Max for leaving - but most of all she was amazed at the amount of emotion that she was feeling on the subject as a whole. On the taxi ride to the airport, Lara looked at a map of Central America, the crazy idea of intercepting Max to give him his cigarettes (which she still carried). She followed the series of roads that led north to the United States. Her zeal to pull off her little operation faded when she saw the mass tangle of options that presented themselves. That, with the idea that Max just might opt for the lesser-traveled thoroughfares, made her re-consider her plan. There was no one seated next to her on the flight home. In fact, there were as few as five people seated in first class. Normally, the isolation would have suited Lara perfectly, but there was just something inside of her that she needed to release. She slept fitfully on the thirteen hour journey, often dreaming of Max. There must have been five of them where she had given him his precious cigarettes. Finally giving up on sleep and ordering up some tea, Lara took the remainder of the flight for a little reflection. She knew that it was not uncommon to dream about someone who...yes, Lara did have strong feelings for that man, that married man. No, it was not even a question of that; it was merely the coming together of kindred spirits... ...The knowledge that she was not alone in the world. Of course, Lara was only truly alone when delving through some forgotten crypt - save for the odd thug, or tiger...or bat...or gorilla... The point was that Lara had not taken the time to reflect on her distaste for people in general until she had met someone whom she liked, and even someone who challenged her. With an hour before her landing, Lara retired to the water closet to freshen up. The face that stared back at her did not seem to be her own. It was soft, the recollection of an era that had passed. It was a face that was full of feeling. The Tomb Raider had no time for frivolous emotions - they only got in the way. However, Lara was feeling at that moment, and no amount of dismissing the feelings was going to make them go away... Vowing to deal with her state a little later, opting for a more appropriate location than the Lou of a 747, she got herself together and returned to her seat. Soon enough, the aircraft landed at Heathrow on schedule. Lara disembarked with the other passengers, but felt very strange among them. As the airline hosts and hostesses gave their plastic good-byes, Lara could barely understand them, and barely nodded her head in reply. Entering the line for customs, Lara (whose contacts usually allowed her to simply be ushered through with untold treasures) was stopped and questioned about the cartons of cigarettes she still carried in her left hand. After the customs clerk began a lecture about tobacco being a controlled substance and Lara needing to fill out forms and pay the appropriate taxes on the importation of the tobacco products - Lara handed over the cartons and just walked away Leaving customs and entering the terminal, Lara felt an utter stranger in a world that all knew each other. People wandered about with their significant others, friends, children, all in a common bond - one that Lara did not share. And they were all staring at her. Then she realized that she was still wearing the shirt that Max had given her - she must look like an American tourist who had lost her way. "Ms. Croft?" Lara turned at the mention of her name and saw Winston, her...servant? That wasn't the right word - he was much more than hired help, and right now he was approaching her and holding a small overnight bag. Lara returned his usual dour expression with a smile. "Headed out to holiday?" she asked him. "Of course not, Ms. Croft, I thought that you might want to a change of clothing after your trip, and I see that I have made the right decision. Shall I have those...things burned for you after you have changed?" "Certainly not, I shall wear these clothes home." "As you wish" Winston always agreed with his employer's (that word was wrong too) wishes, but always made sure that she knew his opinion in no uncertain terms. They made their way to the parking area, and Lara climbed behind the wheel of her Range Rover, Winston grunting his displeasure. Lara often wondered how a distinguished hero of two world wars and many other accomplishments could still be alive with all of the noise that he made. Tabling the thought for a later date, Lara started the engine and pulled the SUV into traffic, accelerating at a mad pace. Winston grumbled a disapproving mumble that was lost to all but himself and the two were off, Lara cursing the large vehicle for not having more acceleration. But she had an idea of how to fix that. Chapter Ten

Reaching her home in Surrey, Lara began her most hated ritual - getting back up to speed with her "normal" life. Luckily, she had only been gone for eight days, not enough time for too much to pile up. After showering and changing clothes (Winston was given specific orders not to burn the loud shirt) Lara grabbed the tub of mail that awaited her examination and headed upstairs, through the music room, and into the library. Attempting to remove a copy of Raise the Titanic caused a portion of the shelves to slide away and out, revealing a computer and a desk area (the trigger book used to be Madonna's Sex - but too many visitors discovered her secret work area). She plopped down and wondered again why she had not hired a personal assistant. First came the sorting out of the junk mail from the important material. Luckily, Lara's desire for privacy kept her address out of the hands of fans and other who just wanted to write her some drivel, or send her a parcel that she cared not for, but not even her beloved rocket launcher could stop the advertisers for letting her know that there was a sale at an electronics store or that she had been pre-approved for a credit card (thought a Visa tucked into her backpack might have helped in recent Central American adventure). After half an hour of opening mail, returning correspondence with colleagues and writing checks - Lara started up the computer. The mellow opening music of Windows 95 was disturbed by Winston entering the room with his obligatory tea service. He placed the service on a nearby table without comment, though the clanking of the tray and his wheezing and gurgling let Lara know his relative position since he had started up the stairs. "Thank you," Lara offered as he poured her a cup with the requisite amount of sugar. He handed it to her as he left the room. Lara smiled - it had taken years to get him to stop asking if "there was anything else she required," but Lara had finally won out. With Winston gone, Lara launched her Internet software and logged on. She had recently upgraded her connection and the speed with which she was on was truly amazing. She quickly browsed over her E-mail, finding that most of it was more of the junk variety. She would have to ask her computer advisor how to filter out these ruthless advertisers. After replying to a few of these messages, Lara activated her web browser and keyed in the address of Max's web sight from his card - there were a few questions that she wanted answered, and his own sight seemed as good a place as any to start. As the connection was made, Lara was startled to see her own name in big letters as the sight was loaded in. The whole banner read "Lara Croft - in action!" Under the headline there was a still picture of her in mid-firing of her pistols. She recognized that as the shot that had knocked down Max just fifty hours earlier. Under the picture were pre-ordering instructions for purchase of the full video tape. So, Max didn't sell his material to the networks, he made money from direct distribution. A quick glance over the on-line catalogue revealed over a dozen other tapes from all over the world, all dealing with some sort of combat. There were SWAT actions in the United States, in-depth coverage of the conflict in the former Yugoslavia, and even the liberation of a Vietnamese prison camp by American covert operatives. Material like this was nothing new, but Lara had always thought that the reporters were supposed to keep some king of distance, to document and not get involved, but many of the previews of the tapes depicted Max's pistol drawn and him taking part in the combat. In another area, Lara found a download entitled "The clip that started it all." It was a large file, and was going to take several minutes to complete, so Lara did a search under Max's name and business. Lara was shocked at the result - there we almost as many sights devoted to him as there were to her. Also amazing was the variety of sights - ranging from simple fan pages made by ten-year-old boys to highly intellectual sights sighting the work of Max as one of the causes of the downfall of western society. Many of the sights actually had links that referred to her. Clicking on one of them out of sheer curiosity brought up a falsified nude picture of her. Even worse, it was the still that had appeared on Max's site. Did these people work fast. She looked over the forged form that replaced her clothing and was amused by how incorrect the work was. Lara was half tempted to accept one of the many offers she had gotten to pose in the nude just for the sake of showing these people what the real thing looked like. But then, she got in enough trouble for the pictures that didn't show anything... Lara's computer then informed her that her download was complete. She opened up the small video window and played the clip. As the file began to play, a graphic displayed "August 21, 1993." The image was a shaky, hand-held bit about two police officers. Once, the camera got close enough to identify them as working for the American city of Los Angeles. A quick pan of the area revealed that they were in the rear of a convenience store, and were speaking softly about the clerk on duty. The officers were poking fun at this employee, as they felt that he took his job too seriously. As they were finishing their thought, a chime, signifying the opening of the front door, sounded, and two young black men entered. They looked around for a moment, then proceeded to draw pistols and begin to rob the store. It appeared that they had not seen the police officers, who drew their weapons as well and crept up to the front counter. The footage then got somewhat confusing. There was yelling, then the tell-tale crack of gunfire. One of the police officers fell right into the camera; an open head wound spilling blood on the lens. As the officer hit the ground, he dropped his weapon - a revolver. The camera then seemed to recover from the fall, then several more shots were heard, and one of the youths, bleeding from his shoulder, ran out of the front door. The camera raised over to see the other officer, applying direct pressure to his profusely bleeding knee. From behind a rack of smokeless tobacco, the other young man appeared. He walked up to the officer with his pistol trained at the constable's head. Their eyes met for a moment - and then it happened... The rear of a revolver entered the frame, and fired. The first shot caught the youth in the shoulder, spinning him backwards and towards the camera. He raised the weapon with his good arm, intending to shoot Max. He never got the chance. There were three bullets left in the revolver that Max had taken from the dead officer, and they all found their way into the young boy's chest. The emptied revolver then clicked empty six more times for good measure. He landed in a lump against the counter; his body still in a seated position. It was obvious that he had control over nothing but his eyes - which darted back and forth and finally came to rest on the camera. Then they moved no more. Lara had been in more than her fair share of combat situations, but this footage bothered her. Maybe it was the age of the boy, or the lack of hesitation on Max's part in dealing the final blow, or maybe she was torn over the unanswerable question of whether Max did the right thing, but Lara suddenly got a more three-dimensional picture of her new friend. She went on to see that this footage, when aired, started a national craze. Some were happy that Max had gone out on a limb to defend this police officer, others were appalled at the state of the world that the footage represented, and it all came together on one of the popular American talk shows where the mother of the fourteen-year-old slain robber confronted Max. As Lara watched the footage, she was amazed at how different Max looked just a few years earlier. He seemed so young and so full of pain. As was typical of the type of program, everything descended into violence and the child's mother attacked Max, who refused to defend himself against her. "If I had cold-cocked that bitch, I would be the jerk." Max's words replayed themselves in Lara's head as she watched a man with a cane try to defend Max. Lara realized that it was the officer whose execution Max had prevented... ...On national television. Lara continued on through Max's bio, but there was little else that surprised her. Max was only able to get work doing more of what he had been a part of in the convenience store incident, so he was shipped off to every hot spot in the world and turned loose with whatever side he could strike a deal with. The only thing in the remaining information that surprised Lara was information on Lands of Turpin, a documentary about a Native American Indian tribe in southern Ohio - long before Max's ancestors traversed the great ocean and settled there. Lara vowed to see his movie as soon as possible and was just about to E-mail him when... Sitting on her desk, under a small protective glass case was the Scandinavian piece of the device. Lara had spent hours transcribing the data that was carved on the surface. It was an ancient Egyptian form of what would best be compared to latitude and longitude. It had taken her quite a while to learn the symbols, and then to place them into reference with a modern coordinate system. Or, to put things simply - Lara was very familiar with what was written on the device, but those coordinates were not what was currently on her piece. The inscription had changed. As Lara stared at the new symbols before her, the soft look that she had noticed on the airplane began to vanish. In its place returned the face of the Tomb Raider. "Winston! I'll be leaving soon, would you please pack a bag?" There was a moment of silence, then a faint reply. "Cold climate or warm?" "I'll let you know in ten minutes." Lara closed out her internet connection and opened her translation package.

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