THE ANGEL RETURNS

This is not directly linked to The Angel of Darkness game. 
Places, times and events are also not directly linked.

any comments? bluekatfish@hotmail.com (also msn name) criticism welcome… though not really! Lol jokin. Enjoy!

The rain fell heavily against glass panes in Prague. The snow which had lain thick unfroze and became wet. The temperature had risen but spirits fallen. Lightning illuminated the sky and cracked splits into the image over the city though it was far away from a small dinky hotel which was really otel. The H had fallen into disrepair and broke free from its grasp. The light cast shadows over the objects strewn on the floor in the ‘otel room.
	Paper crumpled then thrown miserably to a wicker basket littered the draughty floorboards. Clothes spread across a sorry carpet. Tattered, frayed and faded beyond years. Objects resembling ammo clips, guns, a backpack hung on the bedpost, littered the opeck desk held correctly by a piece of cardboard in front of a cracking mirror pushed against the dry rot wall. A dusty 10 watt bulb lamp perched on the side of the desk lit part of the room, making shadows and light over a figure sprawled on a tired bed, The pale light highlighted the shadows under her eyes, made her skin glow and accented her curves, Dressed in denim once more, Lara Croft delved into the solitude of hiding. Swallowed up by the depths of the Prague underground she found the help of the unspoken. Meaning everyone that was here was hiding from the Law or an angry husband and they would not breathe a word to anyone about each other.
 
	Lara lay awake and still, listening to the thump of the rain outside, the footsteps above and the quietness below. She had not slept a good night’s sleep for months. Following the unruly business in Paris, Lara came to Prague to finish some unfinished business. But events led to the last part of the story and business remained unfinished. Kurtis Trent was missing. Not dead as Lara kept telling herself in the silent nights when tears came to her eyes and fear, torment, regret, frustration and anger flooded and clouded her usually rational and calm mind. This thought and false hope kept her going. She was searching. Maybe for something played by her mind, maybe for something gone from her life or maybe for something that meant and could be everything to her. 
	Walking away bruised yet unscathed from Eckhardts Lab, she began to follow Kurtis’s Chirugai. She had seen from when she was in the airlock that it had always returned to him obediently. Upon opening it, its strength pulled Lara onwards. And this memory kept Lara wondering after something that had its own mind. Determination filled her veins as she seeked its followings which had led to dead ends, dangerous outcomes and false hope again. The determination leaked from her as the blood brought on by a foolish policeman trying to capture her like an animal. Lara was still on the run from the authorities, falsely accused of murdering Werner Von Croy. She knew it was not her who committed the crime but Eckhardt. She also knew that the police would rather capture and lock her away than listen to the truth. 
	Drained, Lara refuged in a £10 a night otel, playing over her encounters with Kurtis in her mind and rationalising what he meant to her. He had only appeared in her life 3 months ago or so in Paris. His cocky, arrogant American attitude annoyed her and angered her extremely when he locked her in the airlock. But he did help her up the ledge when Boaz appeared as a mutated monster obeying Eckhardt’s commands to kill. Maybe Boaz was successful. Lara had returned to the site where she had seen him last even though the apparition of the Nephillim showed an image of Kurtis, claiming that it was him and Kurtis was not real. She didn’t believe such trickery and gone back to him. He wasn’t there. Nothing but a destroyed Boaz lying limp and lifeless in the middle of the arena. But she never got to say thank you for putting her first. For this reason she searched. She knew that he wouldn’t get up and leave without saying goodbye and closing the adventure. She didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him. 
	Lying on her back and staring at the Chirugai she flicked it open and like the last time and the time before that it pointed West to beyond the city. Afraid to leave incase he was there all along, Lara stayed put for a while. Afraid? Since when had the famous Lara Croft; adventurer, explorer, general ass-kicking role model ever been afraid? Could her feelings for Kurtis be more than regret of not saying ‘Goodbye and Thank You’? 
	Slightly exasperated, tired in more ways than one, Lara closed her eyes and waited for the morning. During her light sleep images of mutants, monsters, death, adventure, screams, hope, future outcomes, raced through her mind making her sweat. She rolled and twitched in her sleep until sitting bolt upright, gun armed and ready to fire she woke. Panting Lara disarmed the gun threw it upon the bed and calmed herself. The sun was shining a cold morning as Lara passed the window dropping her clothes on the floor and heading to the tiny bathroom for a cold shower. Dried, dressed and relaxed, Lara packed her backpack and made a move on the day.

	In the dreary open aired market people busied themselves gathering ingredients and items for the day. No one noticed one another so Lara would not be recognised from her image posted in the paper last weekend. They were after her. Counting her blessings she sighed relief that they had not posted an award as well for her whereabouts. No one would report her if there was no money involved so she was safe- for now. 
	Paying for her coffee and morning ‘eats’ as the specials read in yellow chalk outside a dingy café, Lara sat down wasting the time and wondering what she should do next. She had wondered about going home to England but ruled that out once the image appeared in the newspaper. They would be there and looking for her, expecting her to go home to her butler- Winston for refuge. Sitting with a local newspaper (in English) she became engrossed in an article about Egypt and how a break in and precious treasures had been stolen (kicking herself for not being there) and had not noticed a man sit on the chair opposite her. The café was crowded and she didn’t mind someone sitting opposite her for a rest. The man spoke deeply and quietly but Lara heard every word, every syllable with pricked up ears an racing heart and mind as he growled;
	“I know of whom you seek” Lara looked up and saw a man of a young age with a stubble chin, messy hair and a leather coat on. His face was hidden from the shadow of his blue NY baseball cap. He looked up and she could see his face- tanned, pierced upper lip and eyebrow and pale, serious, drug worn eyes. 
	“Follow the black bird.” He growled again and jumped out of his seat and left the café. Lara looked around puzzled. There were no black birds here. Nonsense/ Then she saw a crumpled piece of paper on the table. Written on it were the words ‘over there and a scratchy arrow pointing to the bar were people were sitting sipping their coffee. A woman in a black coat pushed high up on her stomach revealing her back and scrawny torso, faded jeans and white boots sat with her back to Lara. There a tattoo of a common black bird was set in the small of her back. Surely not! The woman paid for her coffee and began to walk out the café with her dyed blonde hair and thick dark roots bobbing as her heels clipped on the tiled floor. Lara followed.

	Weaving after the only lead that she had on Kurtis, she lost sight of the woman twice only to find her in the square beside the fountain that choked out brown liquid water pitifully. Lara approached her, feeling her 44mm semi automatic pistol rub against her side- a feeling of comfort.
	“So you took the hint.” The woman spoke to Lara with a thick accent as she leaned against one statue playing with a cheap bracelet that made a ring of green on her wrist.
	“How do you know who im looking for?” Lara asked calm and sturdy. The woman laughed a girlish laugh.
	“Attitude. That’s a good thing nowadays, everyone needs attitude, everyone needs a place to hide, and everyone needs a bullet in their gun eh Lady Croft? Especially a hunted woman. Tisk Tisk. Murdering a poor old man.”
	“Not that its any of your business but I never murdered him. How do you know my name?”
	“Sure. You didn’t kill him and im not cheap but I guess we can put that aside for now. Everyone knows your name darling. You are the most adventures woman in the world and was the most respected. And I also know because he told me.”
	“Who is he?”
	“That would be telling im afraid. Not allowed to tell. But he is dying to meet you. Has some information about a certain Mr Trent.” With this name Lara became angry. No more word games.
	“He’s alive?”
	“And kicking. Literally.” Lara pulled out her gun and held it to the woman.
	“Where is he?” she whispered in a cold, icy breath.
	“Calm my darling.” Not at all floundered by the fact a fully loaded gun was sticking into her skinny side. “Not here, not now. People are looking. They know you. You don’t fit in here.”
	“Just tell me where he is.”
	“I cannot tell you. But I can take you to someone who can. Follow me my darling. That denim is fascinating on you. Expensive I guess but never mind. I make my own clothes and one day I shall be on the catwalk in Paris. You should think of something like that. Just think- no more ghastly guns, grimy clothes, unearthly tombs. I hear you’re an expert in all weapons and defence. Martial arts no? Maybe you can teach me someday if you don’t rot in a cell for pointing guns at people.” The woman rambled on as she led Lara round a back alley and through another street. 
	“Could we not talk?” Lara sighed as she listened to her go on.
	“If you wish. Im Alana.” Lara followed Alana into a side door to a warehouse.

	“Lady Lara Croft.” Came a voice behind a crowded desk. Two henchmen were waiting by the door, armed to the teeth in military machine guns, most favoured by the SAS. German army deserters who reckoned that they could get more money working against their government than for them. Highly trained and egar to kill. The voice spoke again as it said “I was expecting you this afternoon, but the day is young and we have a lot to talk about.” The voice was husky, foreign, and full of calm. He turned round from facing the window and allowed his silhouette to dominate the room as he gestured for Lara to sit. This was how he greeted all his guests- allowing them to see how much power he was worth before they dared to make their first judgement. “I am of course…”
	“Andreas Gorevanya.” Lara cut in. She knew who he was. Everyone did. The founder of the world terrorist organisation X. 
	“You have heard of me? Why I am not surprised in your line of work. And I have been following you work for the past 2 months or so. Dear me Ms. Croft. Murdering poor Werner Von Croy. Although I cannot judge you for that, I too thought about it many a time. Breaking into the unbreakable Strahov Fortress here in Prague and into the Louvre Gallery in Paris. Then destroying my dear friend Eckhardt. That I was not so pleased about. I had my share in that little project of his.”
	“He was asking for it.” Lara murmured. 
	“I suspect he was.” Andreas Gorovanya opened his desk drawer and took out a fresh Cuban cigar and lit it round the edge making the smoke swirl and fill the room. “Onto a more pressing matter. Mr Kurtis Trent. I believe you know of him. I believe you are looking for him. I believe that you will do anything to get him.”
	“Where is he?” Lara growled. Mr Gorovanya chuckled slightly. 
	“A little love interest is it now? Why Ms. Croft I would never have known. He is alive, he is somewhere in this city. All I can give you is a clue. You know that Mr. Eckhardt could be turning in his grave if he heard me say this. West is the way. I shall make it interesting for you. A deal if you will.”
	“What sort of deal?” Lara asked crossing her legs and becoming irritated at all this time wasting.
	“You get me what I want; I get you what you want.”
	“Deal. What do you want?”
	“There is some instructions and some plans of what Eckhardt was doing. He never told any of us how he found the things he found. How he created the last remaining Nephillim to what it had become. Strung up and hung up as it were. There is something that made him great. That glove. I want that glove Ms. Croft. It belongs to me more than it belongs to anyone else. Someone- someone close to Eckhardt stole the glove and hid it. Fortunately I know where he hid it- I just need you to retrieve it. Get me that glove and you will get Mr Trent.”
	“Tell me where to start.”
	“I would think that was easy.”
	“Just tell me!” Lara scowled through gritted teeth as she pulled out her gun and clicked it into place. The bullet poised and ready, waiting to find its fleshy destination.
	“Where life began. Where this story began. Where it ALL began. Turkey.”

THE END

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