One-shot: Untitled

"No," she said to herself. A short breath was inhaled in the fraction of a second, as she realized that it was her fault she was seeing this. After believing her eyes, that the view in front of us was not at all a lie, a few moments of suspense invaded her mind that, will the weapon lying in the pool of fresh blood cut off her fingers. The thing that made her shriek, was the blood: So pure, so red, and so fresh. But the main question was, whom did this belong to. She slowly crouched, her knees giving a real loud crack in doing so. She was probably used to it. When she visited a doctor, he told her that this is natural, and happens with every person, especially girls who are taller than they should be. She did not care; she was used to it. It had been happening to her for more than twenty years. She, with a shaking hand, went out to reach the chirugaii. Just as her fingers connected with the golden metal of the dangerous circle, she felt a chill spreading out in her body: the blade was as cold as ice. Maybe, she felt it more, because she was almost drowned in her own sweat after the running she had done, and the tiring battle between good and evil. And that was the main reason. Then, she smelt it. A light fragrance, a very light one. It was not the smell of the blood that was leaking through the polka-holed, round metal floor. It was the smell of a perfume. She felt a déjà vu. But after recalling, she realized that this belonged to one man. The man, who had hypnotizing blue orbs. The man, who she first saw in a little café in Parisian Ghetto, the place known to many as Café Metro. That man, who helped her out in their mission: destroy Pieter Van Eckhradt. This man, was none other than her only-a-few-hours-old colleague:

"Kurtis," the tomb raider gasped, followed by a shout of regret. 'Why' a small voice inside her head asked. 'That was the friend I made. The only one, who didn't knew my past, so he can be free to talk to me about anything. Werner is dead, Kurtis didn't know anything about my experience in Egypt.' Tears welled up in her brown eyes. She very well remembered a quotation, 'The poorest person in the world is the one who doesn't have any friend' whoever said that, spoke the truth. Now, the famous adventurer, world's renowned archeologist, the one who nearly died fighting for the world, Lara Croft was among them. One of the tears flowed freely down her left cheek. She used her gloved hand to wipe it. With all the emotional power she had, she reluctantly put her fingers in the space made for them, and gently pulled forward the disk. It's razor sharp blades extended forward, like a whip. That almost made Lara Croft jump. The power of the magic disk, controlled by telekinesis, made her stand her up on her feet. Lara's hand trembled uncontrollably due to her effort of not letting the disk get away easily. The powerful object glowed a bright golden, and she had to squint her eyes to see it. Unknowingly, it forced her to turn around, and face the pillar next to the hole, from which the monster Kristina Boaz emerged, and took her friend away forever. But, her jaw dropped the cause of the man about twenty yards away from her. He was leaning against the pillar, his head bowed down to his chest, his arms stretched out on the sides, his legs opened wide. She rushed to him, dropping the chirugaii. Then at that moment, the blades retracted. "Kurtis. Kurtis wake up!" she said breathlessly, while shaking his shoulder. When she got no response, she still had hope. She gently pulled his face up to meet hers. His eyes were bloodshot, and blood on his thin lips. He was as cold as ice. Yet still he was alive. Unlike her former mentor, Werner Von Croy: Kurtis Trent was alive. "Y-yes?" he finally whispered after a few moments.

"Nothing," she responded back cheerfully.

"H-hosp-pital," he stammered. "W-wound."

"No worries."